The Checkup

            His work day had finished and Latchezar was walking home. He had nowhere to hurry for and wanted to move somewhat after the long hours behind the desk. There were quite many people in the street and nevertheless the city noisiness, the chaotic movement around made him feel a pleasant sense of vitality. He was gazing at the shop windows absent-mindedly, almost without paying attention to the goods on them and kept an eye on the passers-by.
            He remembered he had nothing to eat at home but decided to order a pizza and watch some movie. He had almost reached his home when his attention was dragged by the conversation between a young couple he had overtaken.
            “Of course, it is important for two people to get along” – the man was speaking in a response of the girl’s catchword.
            “I mean that the most important thing is to show interest to each other,” – she said. – “to feel the person by their side, his or her moods...”
            “Sure!”
            “...and if they lose this relationship, sooner or later, everything between them will die. I even don’t mention the care...”
            “The care is something important.”
            “...and that’s why they have to hear each other, not only to listen when they speak but really to hear what the other one says...”
            “It should be so.”
            “...because if this relationship between them doesn’t exist, they are going to lose each other from their sight, they are going to drift apart...”
            “Naturally” – the man interrupted her again and waved his hand. – “When there’s a problem, it should be confronted directly, they both should sit down and eliminate it otherwise, nothing will work. Everyone thinks about something, just supposing what the other one thinks, however quite often they are wrong and it gets messed-up.”
            Latchezar was watching the man’s curtly gesturing and almost bumped into the woman who had slowed her pace down.
            “Excuse me.”
            She only nodded, stopped at one place and gazed ahead where the man whom she was with kept walking, waving his arms confidently.
            “If the things do not become clear on time, the misunderstandings occur...”
            A step, two, three... the man was walking and talking without turning back. Latchezar had stopped and looked at the woman who was staying without moving. He smiled.
            Four, five...
            “...and then the scandals begin” – the man kept babbling.
            Six, seven...
            The woman noticed his smile and felt embarrassed for a while. Latchezar raised his eyebrows and stretched his arms to her crossing fingers.
            Eight...
            “Come on! Where have you gone?”
            “I’m coming” – the woman smiled sadly. – “Something... the shoe...”
            Latchezar hardly helped laughing after them. “People” – he laughed silently, turned back and went into his entrance.

~~~~~~~~~
Translated by: Vessislava Savova

The Demiurge

The Demiurge was looking carefully at the world he had created. That fabulous world, born by his mind and will, sculpted pedantically till the least possible details, with an endless love and diligence. Vast plains, yellowing fields, lush valleys through which sparkling streams that started from the bowels of the high mountains and their hackly rocky spires to gather together into abounding rivers were spread in front of him. He was staggering the world around and watching his creatures: people who had settled it thinking their cities were built by them without having any idea that all those things were his deed. Everything, till the last grain of sand: the roads, the automobiles that they drove, the different installations that improved their lives. Little ones, fragile and defenseless, depending completely on his will. They did not realize that he was above them, taking care for each one of them and it was in his power without any effort to mow down as a separate human, as the whole that small, refined universe. They were walking, rushing to and fro, staying at a place, sitting in the sun, meeting each other, talking to each other.

The Demiurge remembered the difficulties he had had while he was sculpting that world, the problems he had met, the ways he had solved them in, so everything to be at its place, to be separate and meanwhile inseparably connected with everything else and to be realized as a whole, complete creation. Of course, the Demiurge was able to see the small bugs he had not avoided, discovered some imperfections, trying to eliminate them; he exulted when he managed to do it and suffered when it did not work but he realized that those small imperfections were too exiguous to be noticed by the people, by those ones who did not have his eyes.

He was observing the movement in this world of his. The perfect dance of that amalgam of organisms and mechanisms; he was amazed by the beauty he discovered even into the machines which people rarely paid attention to as if they were some kind of granted thing. He was admiring the automobiles and airplanes, that gave them freedom but mostly to the beautiful trains that were curving around valleys and hills. He had been shivering in front of the ebullience at the railway stations – one of his most favorite places – that were holding into them both history and modern time, journeys to the new places and coming home still since the time of the steam engines far to the slim, drafting high-speed trains. He was enjoying the travelers who were getting on and off them, some of them indifferent by the gathered habit, others, still joyful because of the travelling, the welcoming people who were running to their closest ones, the people, accompanying the departures, waving with a bit of sadness. He was keeping an eye whether everything was alright though people thought they ruled over.

A sudden rumble sniffed him out of his contemplation. The error in the system had missed a freight train running over the passing counter express-train through the railroad switch. He switched the power off instantly but the inertia of the heavy cistern cut the diesel locomotive into the long passenger carriages. The first ones had derailed, the third and the fourth were inverted by the machine which had hit them and the rest of them were stacking up one above another, the cisterns were turning over. The Demiurge shuddered. He was looking at the descended chaos and was checking for damages.

“Daddy, what happened?” – his curious son, who always helped him with an interest, shouted.

“Don’t ask!”

“Is anything broken?”

The Demiurge was looking carefully at the layout.

“Fortunately, there’s nothing damaged” – he sighed.

He started arranging the wagons carefully without paying any attention to his wife who had peeped behind the door and ticking her tongue graciously:

“Are you playing model trains? Kid stuff...”

He was amused but did not answer: she could not, she would never realize the beauty of his hobby. The Demiurge reversed the time, arranged the two compositions again and let them move so that to pass along each other and he did not feel that somewhere above him God was looking at him, smiling and remembering: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

~~~~~~~~~
Dedicated to all the railway nerds :)

Translated by: Vessislava Savova

The Gift

            He had not gone out for a lunch-break because he had been waiting for her telephone call. He was sitting in front of the computer and though he had a pile of work to do, the man was smirking while imagining her reaction of the surprise which he had prepared for her. He had put the flash drive into the computer, his email was open, and he was only waiting for her to call him.
            He was happy to know her. She was an incredible person; such he had never met before and he liked observing people and knew his estimate was real. They had established a common ground in a big number of topics, they had gotten to know each other in a large degree and they had helped to each other not only once. He felt flattered that she had let him enter her world that seemed not to have many people been allowed to: probably just a few were able to realize its beauty. And it was colorful and refined, full of different, motley people, each of them with their own dreams, problems and pains; of people who walked together but being a scream match because did not hear from each other; of people who had been arguing stubbornly for weeks about if the zero was nothing; of such who had been discovering the inner beauty of the rest at some fancy-dress-ball or sunk in some card-game to folly in order to rediscover the friendship; some of them risked everything and let their hairs down, exhausted of questions; others were running to the moon frantically by the music of a fiddle that was their anguish, or were playing chess with their pet of boredom... She had been thought the magic of the Ursa Major by an old woman, the hope which the constellation had been hiding and devoting and she had never forgotten about it since then...
            The man was smiling and waiting for the call which – he was sure about that – was about to follow. She was far and he could not gift her for her birthday and he had been wondering for a long time what to do in order to surprise her; she deserved it. Actually, it seemed to him that whatever he would do, she would always deserve something more.
            The idea that had come to his mind was good, he found it fresh and hoped he would make her happy in this way. “After all, if we, people, do not delight each other, even in this modest way, what’s the reason to live this life for?” – he was thinking and that was why he had gotten into its realization.
            “Wow, it’s a wonderful bouquet, thank you, I have not expected it” – he could feel the smile in her voice.
            He immediately sent her the ready message by email.
            “Did you think that I could miss to surprise you?” – he laughed. – “I hope it had arrived safely and the flowers are not ready for a salad.”
            “In contrary, it is perfect. It’s very nice...”
            “Great! I was afraid they would resemble nothing sent in this way – in a box, by a courier.”
            “No, they’re perfect but... ha... you’re writing about some present in the card?”
            “Yep...” – he grinned.
            “And what is it?”
            “Obviously, you haven’t opened your email yet.”
            “Why?”
            “Ha-ha-ha... well, I don’t know, you’ll have to find out by yourself.”
            His phone rang again ten minutes later.
            “A great greeting” – she was laughing. – “You managed well.”
            “Well? Just well?” – he pretended to be offended. – “I thought I had managed perfectly and that Mark Knopfler could easily eat his heart out.”
            “Sure, he could, he should throw his guitar away and never sing anymore. How did you do it?”
            “Well, I just recorded myself and installed my voice to the melody with a program. If only you knew how much I wondered which song to choose... it wasn’t the best one, which I wanted but I managed to find just a few instrumentals that I liked. I wanted it to be some tender, fresh... well, some just for you – a cool one. However, you should know how much I laughed while I was recording it!”
            “I can imagine. Surely, it was a big game?”
            “Not so much. I’m going to come to your office for your name day and to sing it personally.”
            “Don’t you dare!” – she burst out laughing.
            “Why not? I’ll even be in a bigger hat and who knows – we might earn some money for dinner.”
            “And then everybody in the office will prying into me?”
            “You just point me that one who dares joke with you and I’m going to sing some metal song to him. He won’t dare utter anymore.”
            “And I’ll be unemployed...”
            “Are they crazy? Even if you don’t do anything, it’s enough to beautify their office and they should keep you and even pay double to you!”
            “Flatterer!” – she was laughing. – “I’ll have to hang up. No way, work...”
            “It’s pity. I wish I was closer to you to bring the flowers by myself and to hug you...”
            “Hey, stop daydreaming” – she chuckled.
            “Why not? I’ll daydream!” – he laughed in an answer.
            When they hung up, he stood up and gazed through the window. He kept smiling satisfied with the fact that he had made her feel special what she in fact was. They were in different cities and rarely had the opportunity to see each other but he would always be grateful to the destiny that he had met her. 

~~~~~~~~~
Translated by: Vessislava Savova

Madness

The young woman was stepping tiredly through the thick fog that made the dry, grey trees merge with the pewter sky. The man was looking at her sadly, with his lips split. She was scratched, bruised, with a crumpled, dirty dress.

“Didn’t you make it?” – he asked silently when she stood in front of him and looked at him.

She shook her head, without answering. The man sighed and put his hand on her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what you had expected but… you’ve always been a daredevil. Come on, come here.”

He snapped his fingers and they found themselves into a vast room in which a few lost in patina candlesticks and the blaze in the big stone fireplace were throwing glares and penumbras on an antique bookcase, pictures with mythological scenes, carved desk. Two glasses appeared in his hands, he nodded at a massive armchair and leaned back on the other one by it.

“That will warm you up” – he passed one of the glasses at her.

“I’m not cold” – the woman murmured.

“I know it. It’s just a habit” – the man shrugged and waved in the air. – “Just as all of that here.”

“I’m not cold, it doesn’t hurt” – she kept speaking as if she had not heard him. – “Or, rather, it hurts because people are so blind!”

“I told you but you didn’t believe me.”

“I had to convince myself” – the woman answered.

A dull roar came from outside, the windows jingled silently in the night and the woman startled.

“The rock” – the man said blankly. – “It collapsed again.”

“What’d we do wrong?” – she looked at him.         

“I don’t know… I don’t know if we’re wrong at all or we don’t have any chance fundamentally.”

“Did you give up?” – she stretched out. – “Could you give up?”

“You heard the rock, didn’t you? I didn’t give up but sometimes even I lose hope.”

“We shouldn’t, dad. You can’t afford it! I’m sure there’s a way!”

The woods in the fireplace were cracking silently.  

“What happened down there?” – he turned to her a little.

“Nothing” – the woman sat more comfortably and sighed. – “Or, to be more punctual, I achieved nothing.”

The man was looking at her in silence.

“I tried to make people go out of their lethargy” – she started speaking. – “I saw no another way and used all of my skills to provoke different situations, different events which could make them move, see through the truth how much they’ve gone with the flow but whatever I did, everything went wrong. Or not.. it did not go wrong but people reacted so unexpectedly that the result was terrifying…”

Her eyes were gazing at the flames in the fireplace.

“I suggested them they should change the order they have created by themselves and which had put chains on them though they had never made an use of them; to find a way to build a new life which could give them more freedom but everything, absolutely everything I achieved every time was anarchy… I suggested them a sense of goodness to each other but they turned it into a fight; I wanted to help them live together but they found a reason for struggle…”

The man shook his head.

“Some of them realized that life could be better but they were just a few. The rest either denied everything and dedicated themselves to depravity or sunk into despair because they did not understand how to achieve it, or they started wars with those who did not understand them and everything led to troubles, conflicts, riots…” – the young woman leaned back and took a sip. – “Everybody who was able to hear me was announced to be mad… and that… that was a real madness..”

“And what did you expect?” – the man raised his eyebrows. – “As if you don’t know that I’ve ever tried whatnot. As if I haven’t told you how I wanted to give them life that could rationalize the knowledge and they accepted the knowledge but got afraid of life; they said I was a snake, they blamed me for their own sins and figured out their own usurpers they filled the sky with and chased me away of there by chained me to a cliff. After that they sent that eagle to chew my flesh. It was good I got rid of it…”

The man laughed at himself.

“And with all the ignorance of theirs, they called me, who gave them fire, Lucifer – The Light-Bringer!”

The young woman was nodding thoughtfully while the man kept speaking:

“I told you how I wanted to give them life I had thought they deserved. I descended again among them, destroyed death and in result – here, you heard it by yourself, the cliff outside…I should push it up again tomorrow. And I went back one more time to tell them that the Kingdom was inside them, that they were free but they distorted everything and crucified me because I had broken the laws of their God and afterwards turned me into God just not to be responsible for their lives, purging with me…”

            “Stop it” – she interrupted him. – “I believe they deserve it. There’s got to be a way.”

“Maybe but they are not ready yet, my girl. You can’t give, you can’t teach people to something they’re not ready to hear, to accept it.”

The young woman kept gazing at the fire but suddenly she winced and turned to him sharply.

“And maybe that’s where we both are wrong: people! We always think about people but we miss the person!”

The man looked at her in surprise.

“You see, dad, we want to help people just like that, at once” – she kept speaking excitedly. – “And maybe we should help to a certain person.”

“A person by person? And how do you imagine it?”

“I don’t know but I feel like… no, I’m sure that’s the way!”

“That would already be a madness” – the man tightened his lips but saw that there was no trace of her scratches and bruises.

“Madness or not, I’ll try it!”

The young woman clapped her hands, the fire flashed for the last time, the furniture dissolved in smoke, the stone walls spilled into a vanishing dust.

A young man was looking tiredly at the sunset behind his desk at the end of the work day and asked himself what had happened to his dreams. He had wanted to travel all over the world, to see unknown lands and eventually he turned out to be dozed off with accounts, reports, and statistical data. The sun was going down behind the distant mountain picks and something forgotten stung him. Suddenly he turned around to the computer, wrote an email and while he was gathering his things, his supervisor busted into the room.

“What does it mean?”

“I quit.”

“But how’s that … overnight?” – the supervisor roared, putting his fists on the desk. – “How can you imagine it? There’s a period of notice!”

“I haven’t used my annual leave and if you want, you might put me on disciplinary leave” – the man answered calmly.

“And you’ll give up your salary? Did you go crazy? What are you going to do unemployed?”

The man was going downstairs without hearing his supervisor’s fading voice. He took his necktie off still while he was going into the street where he bypassed a bright girl. He did not know that she had just finished her first painting after she had postponed her dream to draw for a long time. She had always found some excuses and hardly now she realized they were just such. The girl smiled at a woman who was pleased that finally she signed up for an Argentinean Tango Lessons. The woman knew it she had lost her youth grace but though everybody at home had accused her that she was mad, she was about to make her dream true – to learn at least a few steps of that refined dance.

The fog had lifted and a few green blades, stretching to the sky, could be seen among the dry grass. The father was observing the invisible shadow of the wings flying from a person to a person from above and was murmuring:

“Madness! It will take her centuries but maybe she will turn out to be right…”

He kept observing a while more, scratched the healed scar by the eagle’s beak and laughed:

“Mine is madness, either but let’s see which and what.

He rolled his sleeves up and started for the cliff that had rolled down the hill.

~~~~~~~~~
Translated by: Vessislava Savova

Theseus

Theseus was stepping slowly ahead through the narrow, dark, stone corridors. He was walking as if of habit, as if he was wakeful. He remembered he had to kill Asterius, Pasiphaë’s spawn – she was Minos’ wife – but he ain’t seem to care if he would fulfil the task he had taken on willingly. He was squeezing the sword – that sharp sword that was his power, his victorious flag, his thirsty for blood gonfalon and that had turned into a fond relic, the only warm reminder about his happiness.

He was walking and harking, stumbling over his countrymen’s skulls, the ones he had not managed to save. He had been walking for a long time – a whole eternity – and could not remember when he had started off. The thread in Theseus’ hands was hanging sluggishly, dragging behind him, dead like his thoughts. He kept repeating to himself that he had chosen his destiny when he had left Athens, without expecting anything else but to find his end, though the king – his father, the old Aegean – had bid if he turned alive to put up white sails on his ship. But the sword he had taken from two flattering hands, that cord that was connecting him with the only two warm eyes in Crete through the covered in mold corridors, in this unfamiliar island land, in this world, that sword and that cord had given him the enormous will to win and the confidence that he would overcome the taken with ease ordeal. But the hope had left him at the moment when he felt that the cord, secured by his only daydream’s hands, tensioned by the one who had stayed to wait for him, whom he had trusted to, had hung in the wet, trampled dust and had turned into a simple muddy fiber.

Theseus was walking at random. He did not try to remember the road – it was meaningless. He stepped carefully, almost gropingly through the black corridors of the endless stone Labyrinth in which here and there, too rarely, some crack, some batter between two stones, squeezed the daily skylight. “Shame on Daedalus!” – Theseus whispered to himself. – “They have overpraised his mastery. Both his and Icarus one!” Just the quiet slow steps responded to his thoughts. He felt the tiredness, his dry tongue stuck on his droughty palate, the sword was too heavy in his sweat palm, the scratched by the roughly hewn stones feet hurt at each step. His eyes, gone blind by the oppressive darkness, almost could not tell apart the corridors in front of him, when after the next turn in a raw it seemed to him that the echo of his steps changed, becoming more distant. Theseus stopped and carefully reached out his hands. He found a wall neither from one side nor from the other one. He froze immovably and listened at the distance carefully.

He heard a quiet but deep breathing. His back shivered. His tense look started distinguish unclear outlines, chiaroscuros, drawn by the little light squeezing through a slight gap. He felt the fear like a stone. He could not swallow but his power had come back again. He felt each muscle of his body tight. There was no escape out. He could not run away. He made a step ahead, then one more and the powerful figure, the terrifying torso of the fierce monster raised in front of his eyes.

“Minotaur!” – Theseus pronounced deafly.

“Never call me like this!” – the monster growled. – “I am Asterius!”

“I know it.”

“You know nothing!” – his throaty roar thundered.

They had been looking at each other for a while without moving: the tense eyes of the man, who had gained back his daring shine and the deep hatred pushing to go out from the abysmal pupils of Minotaur.

“Why are you with a sword?” – his voice spread around.

“To stop this nonsense” – Theseus answered firmly.

The monster against him, tight and ready to attack, did not move.

“Why didn’t you kill Minos, the king, the great, because of whose greediness Poseidon drove my mother crazy and she gave her away to the sacrificial bull; because of whose greediness I live like that?”

“Another one will come to the throne and nothing will change, only your death is going to save my people.”

Asterius was looking at him with his shiny eyes.

 “It would be a benefaction for the evil that the cursed Poseidon damaged me with.”

“Do not curse the gods!”

“Do not tell me what to do!” – Minotaur roared. – “They cannot harm me more than this. You will have to fight my death!”

“Your brutish life is precious to you, right?”

“If you beat me out, at least I will die honorably as I have not lived” – the mighty torso raised suddenly, the horns flashed creepily and the degenerate monster rushed over the Athenian.

That was the last thing the man could remember from the struggle.

 

Theseus was stepping slowly ahead through the narrow, dark, stone corridors. He did not know where he was moving to but he felt inside of him the road to the exit. He had finished his mission but that had not made him happy. He was dragging back through the tunnels and kept thinking about the woman who had left the cord she had given to him with love. He felt himself heavy, massive, clumsy, the time had vanished, maybe he had stayed in these dungeons a day or maybe a week. He had thrown the sword away – unneeded, needless. He felt nothing, he thought about nothing. An enormous emptiness was growing up inside of him – the same emptiness that the struck monster had felt all his life long. Gradually, as if he had gotten to know Asterius in those corridors, he started understanding the endless grief gathered in his fierce temperament, the loneliness of the rejected one, he felt him close as if he was his brother, as if they were a whole, as if he was Minotaur himself.

Suddenly he felt a fresh whiff, the stench of the tunnels descended and not long time after, the stars flashed above him. Theseus took a deep breath but did not feel any relief. He stopped at the entrance where she had promised to wait for him till he did not come back, where she had given him the braveness to fight and where he had entrusted her his life. He was alone. He was staying there trying to understand, when the bushes aside started moving.

“Ariadne?”

She went closer and smiled at him.

“What happened? Why did you abandon me?”

“I didn’t. I have heard that the Labyrinth is enormous and the cord would never be long enough.”

“And me? What if I had not found the way back?”

“I knew it you would find it. I left another, a true cord that would always lead you to the exit.” – Ariadne answered and touched his chest. – “Over here.”

~~~~~~~~~
Translated by: Vessislava Savova

Expectation

        He was sitting in his towel at the edge of the bed, looking at the flame of the cigarette in his hand. It was still for the very first time. He usually needed to make quite of efforts to overpower the feeling of tension – somehow numbing but very pleasant – that took him over when he was about to see her or when he was with her. He was supposed to have gained that maturity which makes a man feel stable and confident at that adulthood. And he really possessed it but not when he was about to meet her: he was walking up and down, sitting, settling at a place or another, drumming with fingers, leaning back, stretching legs, again putting elbows on knees, standing up. But then he was calm.
        He noticed that the cigarette ash had grown up, he tapped it off and gazed at the bluish arabesque interweaving in the calm air. He knew she was able to feel his tension. She was smart, had an extreme flair and he was afraid that made him look ridiculous to her. He made efforts to control himself but he could not mislead her. And who needed that? He did not want to put masques on, he did not want to cheat on her, he did not want to pretend to be great. He did not want to do anything that could throw a shadow of insincerity between them even that could make him look immature to her. He put his cigarette out and listened to the music from the speakers. He wanted to change the CD but gave up and put the remote control back on the nightstand trying not to push the tea-lights. He liked the fire, the light, the play of the shadows on the wall and had always enough of them. His eyes passed through the rest of the flames climbing in a row by the wall.

        They had met accidentally and started seeing each other somehow half-jokingly – just friends. They met to have a cappuccino, juice or bourbon and he had never had any intention for a more serious relationship. And here, he could not understand when his thoughts started going back to her and at which moment he had started to wake up with a memory of her perfume, of the quiet jingle in her voice. He had tried to convince himself that was something fleeting, that it was a joke of his imagination but her hazel eyes did not leave him alone. They both kept meeting from time to time and they were joyful, they felt comfortably and one day their lips touched in a refined, enchanting kiss.

        Both of them reacted calmly. They liked it, the magic had happened and after that day, they started dating more and more often. They chatted about themselves, their lives, the things they liked. They had magical, turquoise nights, refined and glowing, fire-breathing and light. He felt more and more attracted and when he stayed alone tried to make it clear if what he felt was not only a superficial attraction. He did not want to let her or himself down. He had always wanted the person by him – and he himself – to know that when he spoke about the feelings, those feelings were sincere. He had overcome the time when the excellent behavior, the deliberated actions and all the possible games thrilled him for a long time. He had learned that they always led to misunderstandings and there were always sufferings and he did not want to hurt anybody.

        The shower stopped, a thin triangle of light flashed on the floor, lit the wall in the hall and her dark silhouette had stood out a while before she turned the bathroom lights off. She was in a big towel and slid by him on the bed. She kissed him, put the pillow up, leaned on it and reached for a cigarette. The man rolled over, leaned on his elbow, slowly ran his hand over her feet, up on her leg, bent and touched her with lips above her knee to the end of the towel making her close her eyes and smile. He put the ashtray on the bed, between them, took her cigarette, lit it and passed it to her.

        “I can only imagine how many women were made feel really wanted by you.”

        “You know they aren’t many. I have never chased the women at any price but only the ones who deserved it to be appreciated and they are not as many as you think.”

        “It is true but you cannot live like that... you cannot stay alone.”

        “It’s better to be alone than to jump from a bed to a bed, and to wonder what I do there. I don’t need it to prove myself in this way.”

        “But I am not enough to you, it is impossible to be enough...”

        “It is. I have you. What more could I want? I love you.”

        She raised her eyebrows, there was a surprise in her eyes, but a kind of a sad smile slid on her lips.

        “I cannot be with you as often as you want it. I still cannot be with you... I had told you...”

        “I know it” – the man said.

        He sat up by her. He could feel the touch of her still wet shoulder by his. He caressed her palm and took it between his.

        “It happened so. I liked you at the very first beginning but I have never expected that I would fall in love with you. I haven’t wanted it, I haven’t aimed it but it happened.”

        She bent her head:

        “I’m sorry.”

        “Don’t. I’m not sorry.”

        “But it is not good to you” – she looked at him. – “I like you, but just my last parting was too hard and too recently...”

        “Why isn’t it good to me? I had been living without having someone to love by my side for many years. Some women appeared, I used to love one of them many years before that but everything fell apart and I could feel nothing to the rest of them. I was alone, I had been used to this, I had locked myself into my world which was cozy but somehow artificial. I had forgotten those sensations when you brought them back to me. It is good and I am grateful to you.”

        “I know it, you have told me about this. Though, I don’t think it is not good... you will suffer and I don’t want it. I still cannot rush into... it is hard to explain it... sex is great, it is nice to be with you but I did not expect it to happen like this either, I haven’t looked for it, but... it happened so.”

        “There’s no need to explain it, to look for reasons, to analyze. The things are such as they are and they are great.”

        “But I’m not in love with you... Doesn’t it bother you?”

        The man turned around, sat against her, and carefully slid his fingers into her hair, brushed the bang behind her ear and slowly ran his fingers down her neck. He moved back and looked at her eyes.

        “Keeping hope alive. I cannot make you love me. I know you’ve been hurt, you have suffered, that you still suffer... it doesn’t make sense to convince you that it won’t happen, to tell you I won’t hurt you, to tell you I’ll do everything in order to make you feel better but you can trust me... those are clichés. Just words, uttered by so many men to so many women and those words turned out to be so empty that they have lost their meanings. Nothing has left from these meanings. It is stupid to repeat them. I’d rather prove them to you but we need time for this and it’s only up to you if you’ll give me that time.”

        “I don’t know...” – she looked through the window, through the narrow slit of curtains and turned to him again. – “Some of my last feelings still exist; though they’re old, though they’re hidden somewhere deep into myself, they’re still alive, I haven’t overcome them...”

        “It is so, I can see. You’ve suffered, you’ve been badly hurt” – he took her hand. – “You behave bravely and nobody could say it was so, you have friends but whatever you do, wherever you go, at nights, you’re home alone. You’re endlessly lonely deep into yourself. I also come here, play some loud music in order not to hear the silence of my own steps, of my own breath. I’m used to this but life is short though it could be lived like that.”

        “Don’t, I’ve promised nothing... I haven’t lied to you” – she caressed him. – “Please, don’t push me.”

        “But you’re not a woman who will stand to be pushed. I don’t want you to feel like this but I cannot stay completely passive as if you are indifferent to me, as if there’s nothing.”

        “I’ve experienced that and I understand you but I can do nothing... I need time to get rid of this.”

        He pulled her to himself, embraced her and leaned on his back. He could feel her body by his, her head on his chest, the split hair on his shoulder.

        “Time is mine. I will wait for you.”

        ~~~~~~~~~

            Translated by: Vessislava Savova

The Battle

            Flags flapping, gun carriage chattering and gunpowder smell were floating in the air. The general was conducting with his eyes the both armies tensely form the high hill. The powers were almost equal. The weather was clear, the terrene – flat, there were no clogs that could be used strategically form any of both sides. At the distance, on the other eminence the general could see the opposing commander-in-chief’s camp. They had known each other for a long time, they had led not one or two heavy battles in which the victory was flying from a camp to a camp. He knew his long-standing enemy’s strategy very well but he knew also that his enemy knew his own tactics as well. They were completely equivalent in their art and they had turned into two old fellows full of respect but with no mercy to each other during the long war. “Hi, pal, here, we are meeting again. You have your chances but don’t think I will go down easily”, he welcomed the general who was staring beyond the field in his mind and as if he was feeling that the opposing commander-in-chief was welcoming him too with a tiny smile, tense with excitement before the coming battle.
            His eyes glided again along his lined up velites, the dragoons on both flanks, the feathers of the grenadiers, staying by their cannons, the guards of the second line. He had chosen the classic strategy with the central strike in which he would to unleash his full might. He decided that there was nothing more to wait for. He reached his arm ahead and the bugle signal spread above the field, the drum rumble led the infantry ahead, followed by the guards and opening space for cavalry expand.
            The general was monitoring the rival lines movement – they tried to avoid the collision – tensely. They opened the flanks and brought ahead the artillery brigade. The general kept the attack to the middle of the enemy army and threw the cavalry into attack when the enemy threw the whole infantry ahead and the lines met in a heavy impact. A whole mess happened along the wide field; powder smoke was spread above the field. The general was monitoring closely the movement of each unit from the highland. When he noticed a gap in the enemy’s army, he used it immediately by breaking enemy’s resistance. The battle was his from now on but he did not let his attention weaken.
            An hour later, his zeal was awarded by the view of the retreating and fragmented rival army.
            “This time luck was by your side, Tony!”
            “Come on, it was not luck but a natural result!” – Tony stroked his belly satisfied.
            “A pattern, no way! If I hadn’t let you take my rook with that bishop, you would have realized what a natural result was but it isn’t my day today” – Daniel stretched, scratched his stubble and called out to the café:
            “Ilya, bring us two mastic-brandies!” – and then added silently. – “The deal is a deal but next two will be your treat, you have to know it.”
            “One more game?”
            “Sure!” – Daniel answered and they put the chess pieces on the board.
            Flags flapping, gun carriage chattering and gunpowder smell were floating in the air again... 

~~~~~~~~~
Translated by: Vessislava Savova