SYMBOL OF ETERNITY

«– Tell me who hurt you? I will give reward ruble!»

Chapter First

Shpitki. The name of the village, located on the twenty- eighth kilometer of the Brest- Litovsk highway from Kiev to the West.

At the twenty- eighth kilometer of the highway, the road turns to the left and, on the stone- paved roadway, rushing towards the village. Until the seventeenth year in Shpitki manor was famous Tereshchenko sugar manufacturer.

A rich landowner laid out a beautiful manor park, dug a cascade of ponds. He built a church, a replica of the Kiev Vladimir Cathedral.

Inside, the church was painted with images of saints. Above the painting of the students worked Vasnetsov. After the revolution, before the events described in the book, the church has been preserved, and even service was conducted.

In the fifties, the only brick house was my mother’s house Zimoglyad Olga Andreevna that it is built on a bank loan. In fact, the post- war time, not everyone was given a bank loan. Since Olga Andreevna was elected deputy of the Supreme Rada of Ukraine of the 4th convocation, she was given a bank loan in the amount of 10 000 rubles for construction. The building materials were no problems, as the deputy of the Supreme Council was supposed to ensure first of all with the guarantee of payment. And the house was built.

Inside the house it was lovely in the summer. Cool refreshing when the heat was on the outside. And it was cold and damp in winter. Stoves ever smoked, and was a pungent smell of briquette (a mixture of coal dust with a resin).

At home, my grandmother, a wrinkled old woman with a trembling chin in a long skirt and apron, stood by the stove and heat prevented. Her name was Eugenia Lavrentevna, Zimoglyad married name and her maiden name was Sribnaya. My grandmother was from Pereyaslav- Khmelnytskyi, and long winter evenings are often thought of his home and siblings, unfortunately I can not remember his name, I only know that he lived his whole life in Pereyaslav- Khmelnytskyi. That he was a fanatical supporter of the pigeons. In a private house in his attic he was equipped with a dovecote, where reigned strict order and cleanliness.

The house smelled of Olga Andreevna soup and a delicious aroma of stew. The village lived in abundance, as do all grown – and vegetables, and meat.

I always hovering near the grandmother inadvertently interfering with a pitchfork to cast furnace. To which my grandmother was angry and grumbled:

– You would be better drowned in the toilet, and would not have suffered! – She said, looking at me. I never took offense at my grandmother’s, and now just do not pay attention to her words.

I just asked:

– Grandma, and what is for dinner tonight?

– What is it, you see! – Said the grandmother with displeasure – You just have to eat!

– I’ll eat only meat, – I answered, – Eat fat itself.

– You is a pest, a nasty little soul, a crust of bread will be pleased.

I felt the pain. I puffed out his cheeks and did not ask any questions grandmother. In my hands was a penknife, which I carried in his pocket corduroy dark brown shorts to the knees. He began tinkering screw. I like it when the wind turned my product, and it seemed that I was in the airplane flying over the vast fields of the village, above the trees, and snow- covered park.

Evening. Twilight of the window. Grandma lit the lamp by pressing the switch. In the hallway, he heard footsteps, and the door opened.

On the threshold in a green scarf and a sweater were bright and very thin, my mother’s features. Her bright eyes ran across the room, found a chair. She was tired, sat down, and began to take off boots.

– It’s cold outside. Frost. – She said, without looking at me. – Valik eating, or not?! – She asked his grandmother.

– Let him speak. – Disaffectedly grandmother said, taking the pot from the stove.

I started telling that gave lunch grandmother, and mother commented:

– And the milk, why do not you drink it?

– I do not drum, to burst?

At the same time, on the table next to the window were a steaming bowl of soup and two slices of pork with a delicious aroma.

Mother interrupted clove of garlic and dipping it in salt, he began to eat.

I watched the food the mother, wincing in dissatisfaction. Represented as stuffy and disgusting to be saturated with the smell bedroom. And how hard it will be a headache and chest from the stench of garlic in an unventilated room, where he slept in the same room with her mother. It so happened that my mother ate once a day, and it was night.

In the morning she was in a hurry to work before dawn and returned when it was already quite dark.

The farm, where she worked, she was known, loved and respected for its hard work, selflessness and simplicity. Workmates with her was difficult and easy at the same time. Her nervous temperament and character forced to reckon with it. But truth and justice with which she spoke out loud and all in all, evoked the sympathy of all the workers and the latent hatred of the leadership. She feared. We try not to admit to the top of the managerial staff and endured, mindful of the links which has kept since the days of work in government with himself Nikita Khrushchev.

Khrushchev in his time served as secretary of the Communist Party of Ukraine, and now he is the head of the Soviet Union. Many villagers remembered as drinking cups of brew at home housewarming Zimoglyad Olga Andreevna KGB colonel, now Attorney General of the USSR Roman Rudenko. And what only frontline fearlessly telling jokes about Stalin, Zhukov, Lenin and Krupskaya. Even Khrushchev thaw, tell one of them a mere mortal, not pat on the head.

Once there, my mother Olga Andreevna. lonely she has. Been married four sisters. And my cousins and sisters of different ages. None of them did not like me. Everyone thought I bastard, since I was born, though in a legal marriage, but from the dissolute drunkard Alberta.

Friendship with peers did not work. The village together envious of my mother, and silently despised for without fathers. Good food is well- fed, extreme living conditions in an isolated «cocoon» quenched. I like the wolf, has learned to snap, hit back…

Chapter Two

The air was filled with the spicy scent of the flowers. Gentle breeze in July, almost touching, stirred the tops of tall and lush grass, turning over the leaves and stems from this, it seems that grass whispering among themselves about the fabulous, intimate secrets hidden in their impenetrable thickets.

That would get there in the foliage of the jungle to become at least for a moment such as a hard worker ant, help him drag a huge three ant mote growth. Then climb up the slippery, shiny, and lacquered like a pole, to the luxurious flower stalk of clover and drink, like a bee, nectar.

– Zhu- Ju- ju- ju- at- Well! – Deep voice buzzing bumble bee.

Black ball spinning for a while over the flower, as if taking aim, and finally sits down heavily on a pink velvet bud. Effectively, with ease, moving awkwardly hairy body from flower to flower, with obvious pleasure, he relishes the sweet nectar, completely ignoring the curious glance, given breakfast in a hornet. Do you think there is time to look around, when there are so many colors, let’s quickly collect juicy fragrant nectar. Yes, if you notice on the background of the sea of fragrant multicolored buds head, but noticed that the eyes of the boys to watch the sky itself. They are blue, blue. Or maybe, he thought, that two bumblebee cornflower turned heads in a light summer breathing.

My blond head stuck in the overgrown grasses. Fascinated by what he saw the mystery of nature, I looked wide- eyed at the pristine beauty of the grass, on the scurrying with concern fussiness, insects buzzing, rustling, pulsating in the grass. In the old orchard trees and my eyes finally met the sky. I look into his bottomless blue, lying on his back. How do you want to fly in the vast expanse of alluring, float in it, and look, and look down upon the native village? In the garden, where I am lying. On an apiary. In the old park. At his home, which is near here, is to climb over the fence and cross the road.

The sun rises higher and higher. Paints gradually lose their transparency, turning in faded colors. Day flares. In the sun gets hot, this sun. A hot breeze brings the smell of pine resin. With difficulty, she broke away from the inviting cool grass, I went on the fleecy green carpet of grass pulp aside little white houses, beehives lined up in neat rows of mesh fence apiary…

Through the glass, a single large, the windows on the wooden floor of the room falls sheaf of sunlight outlining a neat square with shadows of leaves stirring in him. Close to the windowsill lined with straight lines (sundial), the charge of the table, at the same time it is a workbench for carpentry work. It smells pungent resinous aroma. Fresh chips and spicy smell of wax coming from the framework, completely hung on the walls of the little room, creating this amazing flavor of the honey wax and pine shavings.

The situation storeroom beekeeper adds oven lined almost to the ceiling. In the corner of the room, facing the window on the left is a metal barrel with a centrifuge inside. From large handle through gear meshing rotation is transferred to the centrifuge.

For table- bench elderly man is sitting. He is holding a thick book and read carefully. Through lowered to nose round glasses in the book look brown eyes focused from under bushy gray eyebrows. The old man suddenly looked up from reading, listening. Behind the door, the sound of footsteps. He turned his head and looked at the door. On the threshold appeared the boy:

– Hello Grandfather!

– Ah, it’s you, Valik. Come in, – Said the old man, gentle and kind voice.

– Grandpa, and honey it is time to look at?

– It’s time. It has long been conducted. Oh- ho- ho. Where were you yesterday?

– So I came and so early. Just have been the cases. – Contrite I replied…

– Well, – he smiles slyly, – beekeeper.

He got up heavily and went to the centrifuge:

– Here’s your honey. – And, groaning, he pulled out of the barrel with a heavy frame,

full of amber honey, honeycomb.

– Take a mug and pick up the faster water.

Honey mixed with wax honeycombs, melted in the mouth, and was much more delicious honey that eating just a spoon. I took out of his mouth neat Chewed lumps and throwing them into a bucket where the beekeeper dropped pieces of wax, then to fuse the wax ingot. These bars he swapped the wax screen within a tagged them neat Allen, a future bee masonry. Full of honey, I sipped two to three sips of water from heavy copper mugs and taken again juicy chew honeycomb. And so, savoring ate and ate until the beekeeper did not stop me:

– Show the stomach?

I pulled up his shirt, revealing a swollen like a drum and round belly.

– Wow! – Consciously, carefully, and the feeling of rough skin on the abdomen. – There have already appeared on the skin drops of honey!

– «Maybe I ate too much, and volvulus?» – Thought whit apprehension. And ask cunning beekeeper was hesitant, he asked instead:

– Grandpa, what have you got for this mug?

– What, this?

– Well, this here, though, and small and heavy. – I, twisting in the hands of a copper mug, – The houses and a larges and light.

– So there you have it, and that we have.

The conversation usually ends. But I wanted to talk more. I peered searchingly at the old man’s gray shaggy eyebrows, and continued:

– What are you reading?

– What are you reading? Uh, it’s still too early to know you.

He closed a massive hardcover and pushed aside the thick volume. Then he got up from his chair, carefully considering any line inscribed in pencil on the windowsill. Shadow of a window frame coincided with one of them. As a satisfied grunt, the old man said:

– Well, it’s time, and return home.

It’s a shame; it was in the heart of the old man. And the fact that he is silent, afraid of honey, speaking on his stomach. Yes, apparently, does not like guest’s beekeeper. On the way home I stopped in front of the garden fence. Furtively looked around, and then hastily pulled coats the stomach and examined carefully. Belly glittering beads of sweat, said on its entire surface, and these drops are so similar to a drop of honey that the finger itself involuntarily reached for the sticky balls and collect some beam on the finger. Flavor drops are the most common were salty bitter. Now, if in the act of the boy he noticed his friends. Forever rest run away from him. But their next and the boy continued to study the bulging belly. He even turned to the sun, but all in vain, but small sparkles of sweat drops of honey anywhere debts. So beekeeper deceived him? Again irritation coming right up to the throat treacherous lumpy. I frowned, shirt tucked in his pants. Put on the right shoulder suspenders, pants will not fall. And jumped over the fence…

Summer is hot time for rural laborers working in the field. Summer day passes fast as one minute. For children, running around in kindergartens and schoolchildren, tourists on vacation, summer day suddenly rushes, replacing morning to noon, noon to evening. And it roaring herd, returning from the pastures, in the copper sunset. We hear vociferous appeals to mothers of calling home playing children.

In the evening, at dinner, I asked my mother:

– Mom, who is a beekeeper?

The mother did not quite answer:

– You better ask grandmother?

I frowned again:

– «Well, what, why do not they talk to me in a kind way? Eh, that’s

Vali father all the time with a smile, all the time, all about everything.»

But curiosity got the better. And I went to my grandmother, who was busy at this time, as always, by the stove. Grandma turned to my face, all pitted with deep fine wrinkles, with the ever- trembling chin:

– You jumped off the table? Sit back,. – I sat down again at the table – I’ll get potatoes with meat.

Grandmother, deftly wielding pitchforks furnace, pulled out of the pot with a hot stove.

– Ba- A, a, Grandma?

Ta hear, hear. What do you want?

– And who is a beekeeper? – I did not give up.

– This Is Fedos Kuzmovich, Diaconal!

– Ba- A, a, a grandmother, and that such Diaconal?

– This is the one who in the church hymns. Here come with me there and hallow see.

Chapter Three

My grandmother was my best friend. Always protected always – another word. The mother, busy working the farm, practically engaged me – once. And I grew up without proper maternal affection by itself. Father, I have debts. Who is the father? His appointment in his family knows. But the unconscious feeling drew me to foreign fathers. And visiting his friends, sometimes do not want to leave home, such confidence exuded by his father’s friend. This filial atmosphere surrounded by his father’s children, that I always regret returning home. What can I say, I secretly envied neighbor girl Vale and her brother Volodya Senilovym.

One day, I’ll remember for a lifetime, the father took the children to the store. And I, like a stray dog, had come with the neighbors. There are something just debts. And the gun, firing plugs and balls, and even a scooter. His father bought the children toys to choose from. Volodya got a gun and scooter. Valya, ball and a doll. I, of course, nothing…

It’s the Easter holiday. Grandma wore festive clothes clean; I issued a new white shirt and breeches, just below the knee. On the bridge were his pants buttoned at the knees. And my grandmother went to church. From the basket, which was carrying grandmother proceeded spicy aroma of Easter cakes, cakes with cottage cheese and baked in the bread cakes crosses and colored eggs.

At the iconostasis pop in a long robe to toe standing with his back to the congregation, and bass intoned a prayer book read:

– Father Our, Who art Thou, in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy will be done…

The church choir of pious old ladies, sonorous voices echoed him. In a black suit and highly polished boots, leaning on the narrow platform, he stood facing the chorus Fedos Kuzmovich. His long nose sitting round glasses. Through them he considered the text of the Bible and tenor sang along with the chorus. The church hall crowded mob of parishioners quickly baptized in the pauses of the choir. And the sign of the cross, and the choir and the solemn silence of parishioners filled the church hall space and the feeling of my imagination of a sacrament. And yielding to the universal impulse of piety, I put three big finger of the right hand in a «bundle» as my grandmother taught me, and with a sinking heart – baptized. Offense gesture aroused a feeling of anxious expectation of a miracle. I suddenly thought that this is what is going to happen. The choir sang at that time:

– Lord, have mercy, Lord have mercy. Have mercy on- a- c…

From the church of high and long windows on the iconostasis fallen sheaves sunlight, clearly looming in the dust particles of the church. It seemed that just about one more moment, and formed the rays come Archangel Saint Michael and Gabriel and sanctify his presence the whole congregation and parishioners Easter.

But in addition to the votes of the choir, but the rustling of clothes being baptized nothing unusual had happened. But the grandmother looked at his grandson with tears of emotion, heat gently and kindly.

I felt that from her eyes so much self- confidence, their mental forces that are now no obstacles in the world that I can not overcome. No black evil forces, which I no longer beat. Sighing at the full breasts, soaking up the atmosphere of solemnity and significance of what is happening, I am confident baptized and heard a prayer and the singing of the choir…

Home from the church back fun. Devout grandmother grandson praised my grandmother. And I felt at that moment is not alone.

Chapter Four

I am five years old. One morning, my grandmother said:

– You Have not been in kindergarten. Get ready, let’s go now!

– Where Mom? – I rubbed my eyes const.

She’s in Kiev, at the meeting. So my grandmother called farmers conference, where my mother was sent. Oh, how I did not like to go to the kindergarten, only God knows. In the kindergarten children are often teased me the nickname «diputat» as the son of the mother of the former deputy of the Supreme Council of Ukraine, and now the deputy village council Shpitki village. I was upset by this and unpleasant. I’m for it, sometimes even angry at her mother for an MP. All of the mother as a mother, and I have some kind of different from all. Always she was doing. Everywhere it is necessary to have time, to go and work, and on fees and on the farm, and at the exhibition. Well, it is not a man, and the case. Of course I do not understand the mother has integrity, has long earned her respect. Her love of the farm workers, the villagers. But their children are almost hated her son. I rarely saw my mother. However, there were moments when she appeared at home and not in a hurry to listen to his son, and his cousin Nyusyu. Sister often speculated his position in the family and complained of my innocent pranks. And instead of the long- awaited kiss mom often accrue to slap. I became a shame to his mother on the pernicious sister, children, teasing me offensive word «diputat», and finally for the whole world, because it is such a beautiful and friendly, admits the existence of grievances. Once receiving a portion of hysterical attacks from the mother relish flavored with cane, under the snide giggles Nyuska I can not hold back from undeserved insults, ran into the street. At this moment I firmly decided to leave home and never return. The road ran to the center of the village, where there were shops and a pharmacy. Having twenty meters, to the center, I began to think, and that if you go to a pharmacy and ask for a medicine which may be, to not take offense so badly and not be angry. This thought insistently crashed into me and really motivated to act when I caught up with a pharmacy. Not daring to go inside, I walked past. Then He came back strongly and went into a spacious hallway with a large window. After standing for a moment firmly he pushed the door open and entered. The apothecary was behind the counter. Saw logged familiar boy asked:

– You know what, tell me all about it. Maybe some medicine you need, I will give you, and then bring the money. Good?

I nodded in agreement, he said:

– A Cure for the evil you have? – And questioningly looked at the pharmacist.

At first he did not understand what I said. Then he jumped to his feet, turning away from me, obviously hiding a smile, quickly became the counter pharmacy, pretending to be looking for a cure for evil. A little later, looked up from the glass shelf with medicines, said:

– And what is happened that cure for evil?

– What’s the entire evil mother, Nyuska. And even my grandmother can not protect me. My mother, like a madman, he always sets Nyuska against me, that bitch, that’s all. – Tears again welled up in eyes, breath has filched. Pharmacist to hide the smile quickly turned to the back of the room, said:

– Wait, I soon bring a cure for evil. – And he disappeared behind the door of the back room. After a while he came back, holding two round tablets packet.

– At this is a tablet from evil. You will be taken after meals three times a day.

I was delighted and gratefully took the medicine. In my heart I felt warm and happy, so just let me escape from the house, and have no desire to run anywhere, I jumped out of the pharmacy. I was passing Lenya Ochkolyas. Twenty meters behind it from his mother, who was walking ahead?

– What are you Valik? You’re not you see that it’s me? – I told him.

– What are you doing in the pharmacy?

– Here bought medicine from evil.

– So there is no cure. – Authoritatively declared Ochkolyas.

– Here look! – Celebrations I showed him two packages.

– So it’s glucose. – Without batting an eye, said Lenya.

I do not yet know what the glucose. But retreat was not much, and I asked:

– What are it, gluon, and glucose?

– And Let me I will show.

– On. – I gave Lena a bag. He busily unfolded it, took one big pill and put it in his mouth. Then he took another. Stretching me and said:

– Take, Try. They are sweet and very tasty.

– Lonka – Called Lenya mother. – For a long time, I’ll wait for you. Ran to me? That’ll take a cudgel; I’ll give you a soft spot for.

Ochkolyas half- eaten bag of rushed to his mother, forgetting to return it to me. But I did not care. Again deception and disappointment. Pharmacist issued ordinary glucose for medicine. But where I understand the trick pharmacist, because this glucose, as a remedy for the evil, helped me to recover from insults and put him back to normal. It gave new impetus to the training of self- control in stressful situations in the future and helped me to realize that it is necessary to weigh their deeds and actions, in order to remain calm and self- control…

Chapter Five

I desperately needed a friend, sincere, strong advisers, who replaced his father- be. Being with a friend is always and everywhere together, to feel his protection and support, is not happiness? A wave of loneliness overwhelmed, suppressed emotional impulses to the beautiful vision of the world. Everything seemed bleak, inhospitable, and hostile. Especially painful it in the minutes does not understand children, kith and kin people, and I invented a true friend. So my friend was a penknife, which helped create the cut twigs from the real «sword» or «gun» that I fought with an evil nettle, feeling at that moment, strong and brave. Colored glass, blue – the blue, in which the world appeared in such blue colors, like in the movies, and the birds, and leaves in it, and the grass and the sky was all blue. And the sky in the afternoon seemed to be what it was at night. Only the sun is as bright as ever, and looks at it through a blue piece of glass as painful as without the glass. Another friend of mine was a rooster. He proudly strutted around the yard. His colorful tail developed in the wind, attracting the attention of hens. Cock cool knew how to fight. And although I am a little afraid of him, but he felt his cock friend, because he was never still and always bullied me. Sometimes, his wings spread, and sideways – sideways looms, shouting aggressively, like a turkey. I am a «saber» deters bully, but all in vain. With a wild cackle rooster jumps up to me on the head, hit on the head with its beak and forcing to flee. I hide behind a massive wooden door of the corridor. A cockerel with a view of the winner, paces, turning ceremoniously sides laying hens, they say, look how I’m a hero. Bitter moments of loneliness. Last year before school turned out to be particularly difficult. Opened old kindergarten for children of the collective farm «Bolshevik» workers winter Shpitkovsky kindergarten did not work. Grandma was going to take me.