Book -11 Aliens novella

Speys V.

Loneliness was sweeping the wave, suppressing the spiritual impulses to the beautiful vision of the World. Everything seemed gloomy, unfriendly, and hostile. It is especially painful in the moments of not understanding by children, relatives and relatives, and I have invented loyal friends for myself. So my friend became a penknife, which helped to create from cut twigs real "swords" or "guns", which I fought with evil nettles, feeling at this moment strong and brave.

Perovny knife gave me a cousin of Volodya. He was the son of Aunt Kelly, my mother's sister. He graduated from an agricultural technical school in the field of horticulture, and his mother invited him to clip the apple trees in our garden. The knife was horticultural for cutting cuttings when chips were sliced. At the end of the blade there was a special protrusion for opening the incision of the bark, and very sharp. I also had a colored glass, blue – blue, in which the world appeared in such blue colors as in a movie, and the birds, and leaves in it, and grass and sky, everything was blue. And the sky during the day seemed as it was at night. Only the sun, as bright as ever, and look at it through the blue glass is as painful as without a glass. Still my friend was a cockerel. He walked proudly around the yard. His multi- colored tail developed in the wind, attracting the attention of layers. Cocky had a good fight. And although I was rather afraid of him, I considered the cockerel to be my friend, because he was never gentle and was always bullying me. Sometimes, spread the wing, and sideways – sideways approaching, bellicose crying like a turkey. I scare the bully with a "saber", but it's all in vain. With a wild clucking, the cock jumps to me on the head, beak on the head and forces me to flee. I hide behind the massive door of a wooden corridor. A cockerel with a view of the winner, pacing, decorously turning the sides of the layers, they say, look what kind of hero I am. Bitter moments of loneliness…

The last year before the school was particularly difficult. A summer kindergarten for the children of collective farm workers "Bolshevik" was opened, in the winter Shpitkovsky kindergarten did not work. Grandma was going to take me away.

"Are you lying down again?" She called out to me. I had already dozed off, lying on the stove, dreaming of my friends. "Come on, get down, otherwise it will be nine o'clock soon," Grandmother insisted inexorably.

I reluctantly got off the stove. I took off the long saurian sisters, who served me as a nightdress. He put on his pants, shorts on single harness- suspender pants, sleeveless and ran out barefoot in the yard. There was already waiting for me cockerel. The bird, seeing its enemy, glanced sideways at the eye, and went on the offensive, trotting violently from foot to foot, as if imitating a heavy goose. But the grandmother creaked openly, opening the corridor door and a grandmother appeared on the threshold. The rooster reluctantly retreated, pretending that he was collecting grain, and he had no business for the boy. Grandmother, being entangled at the stove, was late with her grandson. But, nevertheless, my grandmother took my hand, and we set off. I had no choice but to follow the grumbling grandmother. We went out into the street. Then the road stretched along the avenue of century- old lime trees, the remains of an ancient landowner's park, the violent bloom that greeted me and my grandmother. Suddenly my grandmother stopped and looked me over:

"Well, you are mine, to whom do you seem like, eh?" She clasped, and grabbed me firmly by the shoulders, pulled me to her. I shook my head, but my grandmother inexorably began to lick the grimy cheeks, spitting at the dirty saliva. "Washing", thus, my face, she led me to the kindergarten. And, me, I did not want to go there. I did not want to part with my friends the Knife, Blue Glass, and Cock; they were not allowed to take them with me. I unwillingly trailed behind, deliberately lagged behind the hurrying grandmother. And the chestnut trees greeted with green leaves. The park was full of friendly hymns.

"Yes, go faster!" She urged me. And I added a step, but as soon as my grandmother turned away, walked a little forward, again lagged behind, and finally decided to hide behind the trunk of a spreading chestnut.

– You see what a child, hid! From the scoundrel! Come on, come out! "Grandmother, grumbling, thus, came back, passed by, and I ran out of the home and mockingly said to her in the back:

– B- ah- babushka, and who are you calling there?!

"Well, wait, I'll tell Aunt Ole, she'll give you nettles, she'll treat you!" Now will you know how to mock the old people?!

That's kindergarten. The teacher full, round- faced, met us at the gate.

"I will not accept you." The children have already been in the dining room for a long time.

– Yes, he does not need to eat. Let it go to play! Retorted the grandmother.

"We cannot do this." – And, addressing me, – And you will be punished for being late. The last time I receive you. – And already to the grandmother, – It is more that not late! She ordered severely. To which grandmother waved her hand grumbling:

– A- ah! – We know you!

I followed the teacher after him.

In the dining room it was warm and hot, the wooden tables were already removed.

– Sit down at the table! The teacher ordered.

I sat down and began to talk with my feet. Suddenly, a long thin boy grew up beside him. It was late for the kindergarten of Jester Kolya. I considered him my friend. He also did not have a father and he, too, like me, was late for the kindergarten today. Our friendship began even from last year, when my grandmother's sister's father came to our house to measure my mother with Albert, my father. Her name was Aunt Zina, and she lived in Moscow, and worked as a stenographer in the office of the government of the USSR. Mother said that she had stenographer various meetings of government meetings and even attended the visits of foreign delegations at the invitation of the government. She brought a whole lot of chocolate sweets with cherry liqueur, cognac, well, I was allowed to take two pockets in my jacket. And Aunt Zina, and my mother strictly ordered me not to call her grandmother, to call only Aunt Zina, although in fact she was my great- aunt. Aunt Zina volunteered to take me to the kindergarten, but my mother did not allow, as it turned out, my mother was afraid that my father would take me to Moscow and give it to Aunt Zina. That's why I, with stuffed pockets of chocolate sweets, my mother and Aunt Zina together led me to a kindergarten. This is where the Jester Kohl appeared, who did not pay any attention to me before attention, since he was a whole year older and had his own circle of friends of the same age. He timidly approached me and asked: – Valik, and give me a candy? – He appeared next to us and did not leave until Aunt Zina put a candy in his hand in a red wrap. He took a treat and said to me: "Give me, for the guys." And I'll tell them not to offend you. And if someone will pick you up then you just tell me. – He stood and did not go, pulling the wrapper from the candy in his hand. Aunt Zina said to me: – Valik, do not give these candies to anyone. They cannot be given with alcohol and children of these sweets.

I felt my importance and importance at these moments and turned to Aunt Zina:

– Can give one. With one, nothing bad will happen. – Mother looked at me and said, – Well, give him one. And let him go to treat his comrades.

I thrust Kolya two canteens and he happily ran off to friends, popping into his mouth all at once. There two more boys began to look in my direction. It was not difficult to guess what they learned from Kolya. After a short meeting, Kolya came again, and so it was repeated until all my sweets were over. After that, Kolya forgot about my existence …

"Oh, it's you, Kolya?" Sit next to Valik. – Gently, almost affectionately addressed to him, the teacher Aunt Olya, swinging her weighty body, went to the dispenser window.

The dining room was built in the form of a canopy. The difference in the treatment of the teacher to me and Kolya was noticeable. Kolya too late, even for a longer time. But he was treated with particular affection when he was near me. Of course, I did not understand such treatment, somewhere subconsciously feeling like an outcast.

Before us appeared plates with soup with fresh peas and pieces of meat.

Kolya looked into my plate and said:

"Give me your fat piece, I'll give you this piece of meat."

Kolya's plate had a large white cousin.

"It's not meat!" – I retorted.

– Meat! Meat! It is so white and there is no fat.

Before I could answer, as Kolya threw a white piece of boiled bacon, like a jelly, in my plate, and from my plate scooped up an appetizing rib with meat.

A lump of sorrow came to my throat, and I stopped eating offense.

"Take it, eat it, try it, it's meat." Kolya persuaded me, not far behind me.

And believing it, I took a piece in my mouth.

"Only you swallow it right away." It's meat! – Looking wide- eyed at his friend, continued Kolya.

I made an effort and swallowed a boiled piece of pencil lard. Again, it hurt my heart to deceive Kolya, who was considered a friend. I could hardly restrain tears and nausea coming closer to my throat. I did not want to eat. A piece of fat was stuck in the throat with a nauseating obstacle. But such a fragrant fresh pea, green dill and cow's home oil from above in the soup. Favorite soup, now it seemed tasteless. And then the cook hooked: