Nadyn Bagout "Not fairy tales"

Hah!

There is nothing eternal inВ this world, only the stars that light up inВ the blackness ofВ the nights.

But they are there, far away, leading with their radiance to home – that’s all.

And there is no spring inВ his soul.

Her breath is all around… everywhere… everywhere…

Everything is blooming, everything is alive… Only it is as if he died inside on that shore, where she let out her last breath.

One step, one more step, and then crash down.

No, that’s something only they, the humans, can do. And they are horrified by it. And they marvel at it!

See, and now they’re looking up at him with all their eyes.

They’re watching, discussing something, gesticulating wildly. Waiting.

Yeah, it’s like they’re waiting for something…

The wind brings unlocal music. That is, their music, human music, just not typical ofВ this place: jagged, rough, sharp-cutting with the edges ofВ the words.

He doesn’t understand the meaning, but the rhythm is hammered into every bone in him.

…Und der Mob fängt an zu toben

Sie wollen seine Innereien

Und schreien

Spring*

A piercing cold and scalding heat. The blood roars. Painful and… cleansing. As if spring had washed over him with rain.

He shifts from foot toВ foot, swaying, then freezes again on the ridge ofВ green-painted wood. The bow-curved corner ofВ the roof is designed toВ prevent demons from sneaking into the house, toВ make them roll down this arc like aВ springboard and fly off into the sky, falling apart. Now the words roll down the curve.

Jetzt fängt der Mann zu weinen an

Fragt sich was hab ich getan

Ich wollte nur zur Aussicht gehen

Und inВ den Abendhimmel sehen

Und sie schreien

Spring**

Down below, people are waving and shouting something. Hundreds of sparks are flashed by the cameras: they are trying to capture him. Why? Or maybe it’s not about him? Maybe it’s the building, burrowed into the ground like a giant tree, that catches their attention. Maybe no one notices him at all.

He looks around, looking at the rugged silhouette ofВ the city, illuminated byВ the setting sun. It looks like the forest he encountered on his way back home. It is distantly similar, because the forest is much larger, more majestic, because the forest spreads so wide that at times it seems insurmountable.

And now he doesn’t even want to overcome it.

Although… it’s all his own. Maybe he could find solace there.

Many people there almost worship them like gods. They call them sacred. They celebrate approaching happiness if they see them.

There are no cities there that look like aВ bunch ofВ needles poking into the sky. Everything and everyone are closer toВ nature there, at least if you get toВ the right place.

So why did they come here? What called them toВ this distant land?

They came for warmth and sustenance. They came because they are used to coming. Because they didn’t know how to change, didn’t know how to seize new territory like humans. They came to the only place they knew.

On the shore ofВ aВ beautiful lake they found their shelter, as they had always found it. The place was still there. Worse was the food.

That’s why the two of them went on their way. That’s why they came here: to the city, to the man.

That’s why she died.

Randomness: life is aВ chain ofВ accidents.

Regularity: people trying toВ help inВ small things do not notice how they hurt inВ big things.

They cried when they found her. Dead. They cried. But do tears change anything?

Their fault.

Their fault!

Why does this world put up with what they do toВ it?!

The same song cuts through the crowd’s clamor again.

…tausend Sonnen brennen nur für dich…

Spring

Erlöse dich***

He’ll have to go, even if it’s without her.

Make their usual way for both ofВ them. ToВ worship the flourishing ofВ that land as bequeathed byВ their nature.

It’s time. It’s time.

He opens towards the wind, clinging toВ its flow.

The fall… and the rise.

He makes aВ sharp turn and crosses the river and heads north, away from the city, into the night that engulfs its silhouette.

***

В«Will he jump or not? Do you think he will?В» the guy tosses the empty cup into the trash. В«It should come out beautifully, IВ think.В»

«I guess. They’re rare around here. I mean, in the city. Usually they stick to the park, the lakes. They say it’s good luck to see one. Have you heard of it?»

He nods.

«Yes. It’s full of these symbols: posters, magnets, stamps,» he points the camera phone again at the green and red lights illuminated on the pavilion, the silhouette standing almost motionless on this man-made cliff. «They are weird, really: the proportions, the colors.»

В«But beautiful,В» objected his buddy. В«White always looks great.В»

«It’s a pity he’s alone. I think they usually travel in pairs. I’d love to see them dance! Oh! Look, look! He jumped!»

Above their heads, spreading its snowy wings, the Siberian Crane plummets from the roof and, with aВ long cooing sound that resonates throughout the neighborhood, flies north toВ catch up with the spring coming toВ its homeland.

* Here is an approximate translation. With great gratitude and respect:

* Rammstein, Spring
The crowd begins toВ rage,
They want his insides.
And they shout.
Jump

** Rammstein, Spring
The man begins toВ cry
He asks: В«What did IВ do?В»
IВ just wanted toВ look at theВ view
And the eveningВ sky.
And they shout.
Jump

*** Rammstein, Spring
…a thousand suns burn only for you…
Jump
Spare yourself

Down

Two pairs of eyes watched through the narrow pupil of the porthole as the thin cable unfolded in the darkness, stretching more and more, almost indistinguishable against the ghostly blue glow of Earth’s atmosphere. The graphite-gray strand emerging from the A-11 airlock had already gained full length, and the platform attached from below must have already reached the South American stratospheric port, flying a dozen kilometers above the planet’s surface. So, it would be no more than an hour or two before we descended.

«Has the guy changed his mind? Still want to risk it?» an elderly trembling voice cut through the quiet hum of the thirty-third compartment’s walkway zone.

«No. You can’t talk him out of it once he’s made up his mind,» the respondent said, not hiding a bit of regret. «You know… that’s why he’s here, if you think about it.»

«Yeah… What if… what if he makes it? After all, they do work on those costumes, Ars.»

His friend shrugged his shoulders. His cheekbone face, riddled with a mesh of wrinkles – the evidence of a tumultuous life – twisted into a grimace of doubt.

«Well, so far, none of them have been successful with that option. And anyway… Tell me, Charlie, how many people have gone back down? In your memory? Not just like that, almost directly, but through other experiments? How many have won their freedom?»

The old man scratched his bald head, sighed, and hunched over more than usual.

«Two…»

«Yeah! And how many people have tried? Two dozen? Three? Five? I’ve lost count.»

В«Actually, this guy seems toВ be on his game.В»

«Yep… But I don’t understand why he’s so eager to go back. What’s pulling him there? I mean, he’s struggled with this new system himself.»

«And he’s got it, isn’t he?» Ars grinned wryly, «no one chip here. Consider it the freedom he wanted.»

«Freedom?!» his interlocutor rounded his eyes, smiled, and laughed, clucking. «Freedom… oh, I can’t… Here on the „Daisy“? Hey! Freedom!»

Continuing toВ cheer, Charlie took aВ dozen steps toВ the right, bumped into aВ silvery wall, turned around, shuffling inВ an attempt toВ imitate running, and moved back. Another thirty steps and another obstacle inВ the way. The laughter broke off. The old man slammed his palm on the metal surface:

«Here it is, our freedom. Thirty meters across, and that’s it. Is this cage better than that one?»