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  Copyright 2014 George Kavsekhornak

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One – The First Day

  Chapter Two – The Second Day

  Chapter Three – The Third Day

  Chapter Four – The Fourth Day

  Chapter Five – The Fifth Day

  Chapter One – The First Day

  Why do I always have a bad luck?

  How could I lose it?

  What had happened to it?

  And what if was it stolen? It couldn’t disappear just like that, from the clasped pocket. The jacket should be looked.

  But I sought a hundred times already. I probed all my clothes and myself too.

  Tomorrow Leshka will have a Birthday (TN: hereinafter all friend’s names are in pet form). He invited me. But how could I come to him? Leshka has moved. So enjoyable housewarming was … that I even didn’t remember the name of the street where it was.

  Calm down. Maybe Slavka could help. Oh, he went to the Crimea to visit his aunt. He shouted: "The Crimea is ours now, hooray!" He’s so patriot.

  Leshka`s Birthday …

  What about the gift? The main thing is a presence. Friends will always understand and will assist.

  But how could I find you, my friends? Possibly they suddenly remember and will come to me.

  What is to be done? What is to be done?

  And what are you looking at? … There’s my old black phone look at me reproachfully. Old, however it’s so native. But I didn’t pay for you a couple of years, buddy. Come on! No … a silence … handset is so dusty. "Miss, two - six - three, please."

  Could I call from a payphone? And where are those payphones? I saw the last one about five years ago. It was installed in such place, that it’s scare to go there on daytime and now evening already. It isn’t there or it’s broken for sure!

  Probably I could call from my neighbors. Yes, they remember me from my childhood, should give me a call, no doubt.

  Ah! And where can I get phone numbers? Uh-huh!

  Everything … everything was on my mobile.

  Would be Valerka here, he would think up something! I could come to him?

  But where should I go at nighttime … to the other side of the city. And he’s a wife; children; the mother-in-law there … Inconveniently.

  Have to think, think … engineer, you son of a …

  As was earlier well! I remembered all phone numbers by heart. So, you take a heavy black handset. Your finger is inserted into phone disk and you dial a phone number, spinning. And phone clicks … clicks. You’re listening beeps on note "A".

  And we remembered where someone lived too, even addresses no needed. And agreed about the meetings, and no one was late.

  Oh, where are all gone?

  It’s time to sleep. Tomorrow will be another day!

  And to you, to my little unforgettable mobile, wish you good night. Where are you now?

  Chapter Two – The Second Day

  What time is it now? Wow! And my alarm ... yes, my alarm clock was left in my mobile phone.

  I overslept an interview. Work is not going anywhere... But I don’t have any work now. What was past was past. I hadn't a congenial relationship with management. We had different methods in work as well as in the archiving of goals. And goals were different - I thought that I’ve been working for the good of the country, but had to work for an "uncle".

  There was a hope for this interview. It’s a big production electronic company. But they asked to call first. How? The address also was on my mobile phone. The interview went kaput.

  Yes, a mobile phone is a necessity to me, to everyone. Perhaps I could buy one, the old one. And where is my money? Money seems to have been stolen too. Here you are - a handsome man, poor like a church mouse, without work, without money. It’s not a big deal! Think of something. No need to get discouraged.

  Need to block my SIM card and take a new one with the same phone number. I’ll have to walk in a mobile office’s operator. And what else could I do?

  What kind of people at my door? What do you want? Who are you? What is this?

  As if there were not troubling enough! The bailiffs came. They had shaken papers. What interesting word is "sudoproizvodstvo" (TN: the pun - "legal proceedings" and also could have meant "production of marine ships"). Do they produce ships?

  They took away my notebook. It’s now useless - I’ve not paid for the internet.

  Good that Ksyusha has a car. If she hasn’t changed it. Although, it was my gift.

  That time I wanted very much to show Ksyusha how I love. So, I presented her … a car of sky-blue color.

  I was forced to take a loan, of course. But she was so happy. I saw it in her eyes. Sure enough I was happy with her too. It was a good time. Where’s she now? With whom? Is she with the same guy with brilliantine on hair and in the car without top? Yes … a cabriolet. Some stupid melody creeps into my head (TN: refer to Russian pop-song "A Cabriolet" with text: "I get to a cabriolet, and will drive to somewhere …"). That is why I forgot this word. I want to call Ksyusha? Ah-ah-ah ... my mobile.

  Good that I still have something to eat. And how long can I hold out? Thank God, my father and my mother don’t see me, how I reached the end of a line. I’m without a girlfriend, job, money... No question - I’m even without a mobile phone!

  It’s necessary to distract. Thank you, dad to the library … sincere. Is something to read? So … Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Edgar Allan Poe, Guy de Maupassant … Oh! Here it is - "The Scarlet Plague" by Jack London. There everything was really bad!

  What is it? Seems like the sound of a phone call! In my dream ... and it isn’t my ringtone. Good that’s not the nightmare of "the scarlet plague" at least.

  Chapter Three – The Third Day

  The freedom. I’m sorry individual, pipsqueak, but free!

  I walk a lot today. People are fussy. They ride on the trams, trolley buses. They run, and the green signaling light flashes to their backs. They are in traffic jams. They think about something, nervous. They are waiting for phone calls, each his own one. And I am not waiting.

  And I’m free! I just walk, I enjoy an autumn wind. I tousle the fallen-down yellow leaves by my feet. And I know that nobody will disturb me.

  I smile. Passersby do not understand. So let them!

  Infrequent, strange words come to mind - harmony, pacification, serenity, tranquility, grace...

  And for what is this progress to me? Does to go with the times? Is to be in a stream? Sounds like "to be in a system". And I don’t want; it’s so good to me. I smile.

  There’s no rage to this world at me. Let it be in itself, let it exists. And I shall live! Of course, isn’t like love in a cottage, though...

  So you live, you live, and then once ... it was all over ... or was it just started?

  Also there’s no wish for anything of modern, progressive. "This is the new model! Now is with new features! On credit it’s cheaper!" - advertizing shouts. This is really "scarlet plague" for mankind. Here is what can ruin us...

  There are only leaves, only the wind ... is it rain? And here’s the rain, drizzling, but nice. I love it. People are hiding under their umbrellas, hoods. But I feel good.

  I’ll find a work, even ready to be a janitor, why not? Besides there will be a heap of free time. The head is not burdened with thoughts. Unconcernedly, to rake up leaves and to work in the fresh air. I will start to write the book "A Life Without a Mobile". I’ll write using a simple ball pen on sheets of real paper, and it’s better to use a feather and ink, I think.

  Or I might write the poem:

  "I’m glad that I’m burning not for you. And you alas are burning not for me …" (TN: rephrased fragment from the poem "I like it that you're burning not for me" by Marina Ts
vetaeva).

  It seems that something similar has already been. It was a romance song even. Marina Tsvetaeva. Yes, exactly!

  It’s essentially to re-read.

  Chapter Four – The Fourth Day

  Food comes to an end. Yes, this is the property of any food staples.

  It’s good to wander, to read ads "Are required …" It’s possible to starve to death this way. On a tombstone it will be carved "Perished from lack of food". I want to eat.

  All ads are with phone numbers, so even with the e-mails. There are no addresses, nothing...

  Letters absolutely will sink into oblivion soon. But so beautiful letters were written in the past! Now those letters are published in book form. "... correspondence between Engels and ... what's the blighter's name ... Kautsky ... into the fire with it!" (TN: fragment of a story "The Heart of a Dog" by Mikhail Bulgakov, translated by Avril Pyman). This is unhealthy laughter. Its exact because of hunger.

  I should distract myself. Can descend in ZhEK or how this office now is called? ZhKU? ZhKKh? (TN: ZhEK - using Maintenance Office; ZhKU - Housing and Utility Services; ZhKKh - Housing and Utility Sector). Maybe they have a work for strong, vigorous man, knowing what he wants and with the higher technical education. And this man wants to eat.

  It’s not working; it appeared to TSZh (TN: TSZh - Homeowners Association). Today is Saturday. No matter will be Friday. "Reception of citizens on Thursdays is from 12.00 p.m. to 16.00 p.m." Yuk.

  So, don’t be nervous. Relax. Think about the good, and succeed.

  The despair. What’s a word? Sounds! But it sounds bad.

  Three eggs left, small pieces of chicken leg - are for tomorrow. Two crusts of bread are for today. How did I become so mercantile? I’ll scrape the cupboard, sweep the flour bin, and I’ll find enough flour to bake a Bun (TN: rephrased fragment from the fairy tale "The Round Little Bun").

  And the Bun rolled away from me, singing a funny song. And I’ll not try a bite, and all will get to greedy, and most importantly, to a sly fox.

  The loneliness. Yes, what do I forgot in this society? The hell do I need? When you’re alone ingenious thoughts could be born! Oh! Really?

  Here we take Franz Kafka. He was sick, lonely person. Yes, but satiated! Well, history is silent on this point. He died, presumably from exhaustion. So, he was not satiated. Need to re-read "A Hunger Artist".

  I have the supper dish - scrambled three eggs that can be tastier!

  Somehow at once it drives me in a dream. New day, new troubles! Or maybe not! Let's see.

  Chapter Five – The Fifth Day

  I don’t want to get up. For what? What to expect?

  Again this melancholy coupled with despair and loneliness. I will have a sleep still.

  I was riding in the car. The car was sky-blue color. I was on the front passenger seat. The sun stopped blind me and moved sideways. We raced on mountain serpentine. Behind there was conversation, the voices of my friends - Leshka, Slavka, Valerka was behind audible. They laughed.

  At a wheel … Ksyusha was. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders. She’s focused on driving, but also smiling. It was summer.

  On the right in a window below there was a blue sea. And what sea we have? The Black Sea? But it’s also blue. What a grace.

  I won't wake up.

  Someone's cell phone rang. What a creepy ringtone, like the old doorbell. Nasty. Bing... Bing. Pick up the phone at least!

  What did happen with Valerka? He was always so thoughtful, but shoved me into the back seat with his foot. So rhythmically! Now my head would break up from this noise. Hey you, stop it!

  Open my eyes.

  In reality my doorbell is ringing. It’s not a simple ring. Someone tries to beat out my door by hands and kicks.

  Bailiffs? They come for another "payment"? I won't open. After all, I also have some rights. And legal proceedings should wait. Impacts at a door are very persistent. Maybe they are not the bailiffs?

  I’ll open. A man can only die once!

  I'm glad to see you all! My friends!

  Leshka! With a past you! I’m sorry, rolled up absolutely. Yes I know that you didn't take offense!

  Slavka! You must be in the Crimea, at your aunt. She showed the door back home! Here is the hospitable Crimea!

  Valerka! But what about your family? In Mariupol? Everything is okay? They are having a rest. I'm elated.

  I’m so glad to see all of you!

  Ksyusha? You! Come to me! To congratulate me! Happy Birthday! Who’s? Mine? I forgot completely. Thank you! As I’m happy to see you! And what about him? Separated. Yes … it happens …

  Is it a gift to me? Well, what’s a birthday party without a gift? My gratitude to you, my friends!

  The new model! Now is with new features! I hope isn’t on credit?

  You brought both food and a pie? Champagne! Here good fellows! But I’m here ... just ... to me ... doesn’t matter...

  Now I insert my SIM card. I turn it on. Oh! I got two SMS! There’s an invitation to a new interview. They apologize that couldn't phone me. They apologize, wow!

  Am I in a fairy tale?

  Well, friends, let me add your phones, because all has lost in fact.

  Just wouldn’t wake up.

  The End.

  About the Author

  George Kavsekhornak was born in Leningrad. Now he lives in Saint-Petersburg (Russia). He writes stories in the style of "urban fantasy" when a number of amazing and necessarily things want to be shared. He writes, on the one hand in the style of openly expressing respect for images created by the classics of Russian literature and the legacy of the plot metamorphosis foreign fiction, on the other hand.

  Connect with George Kavsekhornak

  I really appreciate you reading my book! Here are my social media coordinates:

  Visit my website:https://vk.com/kavsekhornak

  E-mail:[email protected]