Yes! I became a world famous poet! The number of decorations as orders and medals didn’t fit even on ten jackets, nothing to say about diplomas! I posted each new award on my pages in social networks and got more and more likes from other poets and writers, who, following me, conquered the peaks that I had already conquered. I felt like a pioneer! The first one! The commander of contemporary poetry and – let’s face it! – the real God of the Literary Olympus.

At the same time, I was keeping track of my competitors’ diplomas and awards, and as soon as I found something new, I immediately sent the “Unrecognized Genius” to the next competition and… won it!

The whole world lay at my verses!

At that time, I had already published more than a hundred books and continued to write more and more! Every day – a few poems! Yes, inspiration had nothing to do with it! The Creator must create constantly, non-stop! Poetry is work! Daily. Persistent. Like the work of a miner or a teacher. Or a doctor. You don’t want to write? You have to, my friend! Sit down and write! That’s your mission on Earth. Choose a time, for example, every day from 10:00 p.m. to midnight, and knock yourself out! ‘Not a day without a line!’ that’s the motto of a true poet and writer!

Maya was the only one who didn’t recognize my greatness. She didn’t even laugh anymore, she just stopped communicating with me… Well, it’s a pity! Of course, envy is a bad feeling, but I forgave Maya in advance. She is my sister. Let her envy for health! Maya, however, bought herself a flat in Miami. Anyway, as for me, recognition is more important! I’m a genius, and she’s just Maya, and her name, by the way, in Sanskrit means “illusion”!

While I was thinking about where to go now, to conquer Mars or Venus, an event occurred in my life that I didn’t attach any importance to it. At the next party in the Central House of Writers, where I had been invited to read poetry by two charming ladies of the literary association ‘God’s dandelion’, a certain Ilya Bookfondoff appeared. He came to the microphone, introduced himself as the head of the Readers (!) Union just registered, and invited everyone to apply for membership. No dues were required to be paid, but the obligatory condition for a member of the Union was to read at least one book a year and write a review of no more than one page on it.

Wow! What the audacity! I went to the microphone and expressed my ‘boo’ to Mr. Bookfondoff. We, poets and writers, gathered there, were born to write and not to read! While all the rest, not present in that hall people, must learn us, the honored and awarded, the greatest and decorated with orders and medals, the winners and laureates! After all, at literary unions’ meetings, performances in libraries and schools, at concerts of poets and writers in our times, there were only poets and writers like ourselves! Readers and ordinary listeners had been sitting at home for ages!

The audience supported my ‘boo’ with thunderous applause and shouts of “Bravo!”, but Mr. Bookfondoff tried to object that such an incredible number of Writers’ Unions had bred, since everyone who had a social network page and knew to write at least their full name, considered oneself a writer. However, judging by the reports of publishers, people had stopped buying books, and, therefore, reading them. That was why, in order to maintain interest in books, he, Mr. Bookfondoff, had decided to create the first and the only one in the world Union of Readers.

The discussion threatened to escalate into a sharp conflict. I offered Mr. Bookfondoff to read my books first and defiantly left the Central House of Writers. Everyone else followed me, except for Mr. Bookfondoff.

A year passed. At another evening at the “Lyrics of Cuckoo’s kids” Literary League, I learned that no one had joined the Readers’ Union, apart from Mr. Bookfondoff, meanwhile another Writers’ Union appeared in social networks!

And that time… an Intergalactic one!

Wow! I rejoiced! “Hang on, Maya! Now you just have to die of envy!”

I was told its website where I got acquainted with the conditions for admission to the Union and with the list of competitions for the coming decade. So every year was run by its own Intergalactic Commission, issuing awards named after one of the planets of the Solar System, nearby Constellations, satellites and not only.

During the night, I prepared a selection of my poems, the “Unrecognized Genius” came first, of course, and sent it to the Intergalactic Commission for consideration. At the same time, I applied to join the Union.

Imagine my surprise when I received the reply revealing that my poems were not subject even for a prize nomination, and I had been refused admission to the Union!

“Oh, no! I won’t leave it like that!” I decided, and instead of continuing our correspondence, I went straight to their office.

The secretary politely listened to my demand for a face-to-face meeting with the most important person in the Intergalactic Union and escorted me to the meeting room.

A few minutes later, the door swung open, and…

“Mr. Bookfondoff! You?!” I was surprised.

“Hello!” Mr. Bookfondoff said calmly. “What brings you here?”

I handed him a printout of my works, beginning with my masterpiece, the “Unrecognized Genius”, and said that I had been refused not only the Sun Prize, but also the nomination itself, as well as the admission to the Intergalactic Union.

“By what right? To deal with me! That way!” I exclaimed in conclusion. “Have you ever read my poetry?”

“Of course,” Mr. Bookfondoff replied suddenly. “I have read your book. Back when you invited me to get acquainted with your lyrics at the Central House of Writers.”

“AND?!” I was expecting admiration.

“You are a common graphomaniac.”

“Are you out of your mind?” I shouted, jumping up from the table. “How dare you insult me?! My ‘Unrecognized Genius’ got a billion awards from all the Writers’ Unions existing today!”

Mr. Bookfondoff took a printout of the “Unrecognized Genius” to read it aloud in full.

“…‘I am Eugenius, unrecognized genius, rejected by all. Be calm! My turn is about to come! And my Sun will rise to fit! And I, in love, will shine you with it!’ I’m sorry, but…”

“HOW MUCH?!” I yelled. “How much should I pay to you?”

“You should have realized a long time ago that I am not a businessman. Having failed with the Readers’ Union, I created the Writers’ Union to please my soul, not for a fee. You have probably read the terms of membership on the site, no money is required here, because I am interested in separating the wheat from the chaff, creating a unique association of truly talented people who are lost in the crowd of ‘genius’ today. I want to help them leave their mark for the memory of those who will come after us.”

Mr. Bookfondoff put the printout on the table, sighed and left the meeting room. I don’t remember how I got home.

“What to do? What to do then?”

After all, on every corner, in all literary associations, on all kinds of pages in the social networks, I had already announced my application to the Intergalactic Union of Writers and the poems submitted to the Sun Prize contest! Fans terrorized me, asking to show them the next – already intergalactic – order or medal. And for sure, all the pen colleagues, who had learned about the appearance of the Intergalactic, had immediately sent their own applications! What if they had been accepted?

“No, no, no!” My whole life was put on the line! And what would Maya say?! My intergalactic failure meant her ultimate victory! How many years had I spend climbing? How much effort? And money, after all! To let everything go down the drain a step away from Eternity, just because of Mr. Bookfondoff materialized out of nowhere?

“Who is he to decide the fate of my ‘Unrecognized Genius’? ! Who is worthy of ‘the memory of those who will come after us’, but me?..”

I had to urgently take advantage of my official position. At that time, I headed the Writers’ Union of the Asphalt Pavers and the private security company ‘No Problems!’. Already on Friday, I made a post on social networks about the sudden disappearance of Mr. Bookfondoff, and a week later I was happy to head the Intergalactic Union of Writers. It is still open to everyone. For a fee, of course. And yes, sorry, I’ve almost forgotten: every member of the Union must learn my “Unrecognized Genius” by heart! However, as you have already seen, it’s easy enough, because brevity is the sister of talent!

Welcome!

2021

8. Stillborn

“I will do it instead of her!” Tanya said, stopping me with a gesture. She turned twelve years old that day.

***

We got acquainted in the bakery across from our office, where Nastya baked amazing buns. That evening, as usual, she knocked on the door and entered my office.

“Hello!” I said automatically, continuing to leaf through the mail, and Nastya silently stood at the table with the hope that I would honor her with a look after all.

She was unusually beautiful that day. Something seemed to have changed in her.

“What’s happened, darling?”

Nastya smiled enigmatically, nodded and, coming closer to me, sat down on the edge of the table. I frantically ran through the options in my head. A new dress? No. Had she changed hairstyle? Makeup? What was the difference?

“Don’t torture me, I’m tired, give me a hint!”

Nastya took my hand and ran it over her tummy.

“We love you!”

I was breathless with joy. Finally!

***

Tanya was always a joy to us, she grew up in front of our eyes, being a beautiful, cheerful and smart, albeit wayward girl. She drew wonderful pictures, played music and figure skating, studied foreign languages. We loved her, spoiling in every possible way. My long-awaited child, she knew no refusal in anything.

***

Nastya came to the window. It was pouring rain outside.

“You know, Boris… I dreamed about my mother last night. She said that we would have a girl, and she would look like me. For some reason, my mother began to cry, then she added something, something important, but I didn’t catch it. She was called somewhere, and I woke up.”

“Darling,” I went up to Nastya and hugged her tightly, “you have no right to think about anything bad! My daughter will be the most beautiful, the smartest, the happiest, the richest! All the required of you now is to take care of yourself! My baby is supposed to be born healthy, so you have no right to worry! You have to live for her now!”

“Yes, okay,” Nastya said, turning to face me.

She loved me too much to think about our future, “It would work out by itself somehow.”

All that time I was extremely affectionate and caring with Nastya, turning the months of waiting for my daughter into a real fairy tale. Nastya dreamed of my coming to the hospital and taking Tanya in my arms, of going for walks in the park, and then… Nastya adored the sea, she wished one day I would take them to have a rest on a distant island where the three of us would be together… and happy, of course…

***

Tanya adored the sea, so we always took her with us on vacation to exotic islands. It was there, on a distant island, during celebration of another Tanya’s birthday, the 10th one, that she first had the dream, which she never told us about. I remember my daughter looked depressed. I should have paid attention and asked her about it after all…

***

I placed Nastya at an expensive maternity hospital. The doctor, a friend of mine, after numerous examinations, considered a caesarean section necessary to be performed. I held Nastya’s hand, saying goodbye.

“Everything will be fine! You’ll see! You don’t have to worry! I’ll stay by your side during the operation and after it… Don’t worry, honey! I’ll do everything to make my girl happy!”

“I dreamed about my mother again,” Nastya said thoughtfully. “She said it was already too late, everything had been decided.”

I felt uncomfortable.

“It’s time for you to go!” I said. “My daughter will never need anything! I promise, remember these words! And… thank you!”

I remember Nastya walking away from me along a long, long corridor…

***

The guests had already left, thank God! Tanya behaved ugly!

She called a ‘fat swine’ one of the oligarchs, on whom at that moment my financial stability depended as well as, in fact, Tanya’s future, and the future of her children and grandchildren! And it would have been okay, being pronounced jokingly or childlike, but no! – the intonation showed out her evident anger and hatred, not even hinted before!

With all her might, Tanya kicked the son of a famous politician with a book on his head, when he said laughing that ghosts didn’t exist!

And then, during a casual conversation by the fireplace, I don’t even remember what exactly we were talking about, since we all had already drunk pretty much, Tanya suddenly changed her face and, turning to me, stated loudly and distinctly,

“You’ve never loved my mother!”

My wife, who entered the room at that moment, heard the phrase. In order to somehow justify us to the guests for such tactless behavior of Tanya, she shook her head, squeezed out a smile and spread her hands,

“Awkward age.”

***

That evening, the phone rang in Nastya’s flat.

“Good evening, Mister…” said a steely voice on the receiver. “I have to inform you… I don’t even know how to say this. Your wife died on the operating table.”

“And the baby?”

“We did our best, but… the baby turned out to be stillborn.”

***

We lived in an elite penthouse of an expensive skyscraper. After the guests left, my wife went to the kitchen, and I came up to Tanya’s room on the second floor. The door to the balcony, or rather, ‘to the roof’, as Tanya used to say, was ajar. It was pouring rain outside. She was standing in the far corner.

“Tanya!” I called out to her.

She turned and stopped me with a gesture.

“Stay away from me, dad! I’ve dreamed about her today again!”

“Who?” I asked, still not understanding anything.

“Mom… MY mother. She told me the truth! How much did you pay your friend, the doctor, to kill her and declare me ‘dead’? And who was killed and buried then instead of me? You didn’t even show up for the funeral, daddy, while her husband, every year on my birthday, orders a prayer for the repose of my soul in Heaven as for the dead! If she had known what you would do, she would have jump out of the window. I will do it instead of her!”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Примечания

https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Рейн,_Евгений_Борисович

https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ерофеев,_Виктор_Владимирович

https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Карпенко,_Александр_Николаевич

The newspaper “LITERARY NEWS” (“Literaturnye Izvestia”) No. 11—12 (197—198), 2021, “The results of the literary awards 2021” by the press-secretary of Moscow City Organization of the Union of Writers of Russia http://www.litiz.ru/arch.html https://reading-hall.ru/publication.php?id=30044

The newspaper “POETOGRAD” No. 1 (397), 2022 “The results of the Open Literary Club 2021” by L. Koroleva. https://reading-hall.ru/publication.php?id=30303 http://www.poetograd.ru/arch.html

https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Карпенко,_Александр_Николаевич

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента

Купить и скачать всю книгу

<1...5 6 7

На страницу:

Перейти

7 из 7