Chapter 14 of the short novel of Holder Volcano "Falling leaves"
The long autumn night, the fog and the dead silence. The ghostly silhouettes of houses and trees dissolve in the mist, and the neighborhood slowly begins to float, as if in milk. Khurshida"s ear caught the distant roar of a lone tractor, deaf and distant dog barking. A long time she lay in her room, thinking about the tractor driver Sultan, and she wanted to get up and go to the field, to his beloved man, the tractor driver Sultan, who works in solitude on his tractor. She decided to read a book before bed and took a collection of short stories of the writer Abu Devar Darmeyan. His story "the Birdhouse" begins with these words.
From General round-up of the new government saved me my birdhouse. That is, seeing that I live in the birdhouse, people thought I was insane, and the authorities have released me from military service in the army, was then late in the fall. The day was frosty. The bare branches of trees were buzzing on the cold winds.
By evening, the smell of snow, and at midnight the large flakes began to fall snow. Snowflakes swirled lazily as down shot of white swans in a snowstorm. Then the snow gradually intensified and turned into a soft and silent snowfall. Deserted midnight streets, trees, rooftops, parks and boulevards, groves filled in the white silence, like a dream. The snow was falling, whispering mysterious prayer snowflakes swarms swirled around the street lights, who bowed, like a table lamp over white paper snow. Although he dominated the blue gloom, but there was light from snow as in the white nights of the Northern countries. This night reminded me of the Laundry of the hospital the beginning of the twentieth century, where nurses on the tense rope hung wash pillowcases, sheets and white coats. I was lying on a makeshift bed in my bedroom the birdhouse, looking through the window at the falling snow. I felt alone, the only living person in the world as people slept soundly this white silence, you could hear the whisper of falling snowflakes. Through snowflakes in a Blizzard, I saw the glowing Windows of the birdhouse, which housed the library, where worked a girl named Bahorshamol Oyshu"lanafis Guzalgultozan.I opened the hatch and walked out of the birdhouse. Down I went, stumbling in the snow, to the side of the birdhouse, where was located the library. I was walking up the stairs as it creaked; I knocked on the door, which was opened by a beautiful librarian named Bahorshamol Oyshu"lanafis Guzalgultozan.
-Hello, Bahorshamol Oyshu"lanafis Guzalgultozan! - I said, wiping and brushing boots at the door.
- Oh, it's your neighbor? Well, come in - said Mrs. Bahorshamol Oyshu"lanafis Guzalgultozan, smiling cheerfully.
Going to the birdhouse library, I immediately felt the smell of books and walked closer to the shelves. Bahorshamol Oyshu"lanafis Guzalgultozan sat down in her chair and began to write something in the card. Her thick black gentle hair fell from her delicate shoulders, touching the table.
- Well, what books we intend to read, dear neighbor? - she asked, not looking up from her work. In her gentle arm the handle was swaying like a drunk. Her long white smooth slim and delicate fingers, smooth neck and chins with infant skin, unpainted lips that resembled rose petals, cornflower eyes, white teeth, and charming smile drove me crazy.
-Dear neighbor Bahorshamol Oyshu"lanafis Guzalgultozan, do you have the novel writer of Cardinal Sharle Carboran "Silence in the mist"? - I asked.
- Yes, of course! Here it is on my Desk! Not only is Karon our library, but my favorite cookbook! I always carry with me clutching, I read again and again and did not read a lot. Read even when eating, leafing through its pages, and they rustle like fallen autumn leaves. If I do not read it at night before bed, I can't fall asleep. Every time I read this novel, I cry, shedding tears from the eyes into the pillow. And in some places laugh loud and long, putting a pillow to your mouth to neighbors in other birdhouses woke up at midnight when quietly roaming the sky lonely moon and fire of a distant star, to read these books for a night of fun. What novel, my God! What a great writer this with a well known name, Sharle Carboran! Characters I love: a poor shepherd, the protagonist of the novel, Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi and his beloved beauty Sabo Zulfiparishan! How they love each other, as they meet under the bright moon on the edge of the field and as they kiss, lying on the haystack, like a soft, squeaky, sleeping bed! Although the writer does not describe the romantic scenery, but I read it excitedly work, you begin to clearly perceive the monotonous chirping of crickets, a chorus of croaking frogs in a pond, distant and deaf dogs barking and, of course, to feel the heavenly aroma of sweet clover under the moonlight where lovers kiss haystack Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi and incomparable Sabo Zulfiparishan. With all this, I gaze into the star-strewn infinite, the Milky Way, which shimmers in the sleepy sky,
Like a baby in the cradle. The matter does not end there. I start to dream about the characters in the novel "Silence in the fog" my favorite writer Monsieur the Cardinal Sharle of Carboran. I see that as a reality, a solitary shepherd Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi, who is tending a herd of wild antelopes and tapirs in the desert, where the swaying sea of silky grasses. He sits on one of the tapirs and galloping across the steppe, driving long whip of a huge flock that's running, circling, and looks like a giant whirlpool. The lonely shepherd Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi continues to ride on the tapir, stubbornly and constantly thinking about his beloved Sabo Zulfiparishan and her words. Father of Sabo Zulfiparishan said, stroking her hair and being afraid to drop the trembling tears in her eyes:
- Daughter, I can't marry you to Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi. Because he is a shepherd and herding in the steppes of the vast herds of wild antelopes and Tapir free. I know a simple man who makes a Scarecrow for the vegetable gardens of old, ragged clothes. I know I sometimes bitterly cry alone, at the edge of autumn rice fields at the feet of the scarecrows, which he made out of rags and straw. Crying, saying to them:
- Oh, my Scarecrow, you never asked me! I know in the world you are a lot! But unlike the human made by the God Almighty, you will never cheat each other, not fighting each other and not kill anyone, even a fly, not destroy the city for the sake of gain, made a beautiful flag from false slogans! We, the people whom God has created, ask the Creator every day money, gold diamonds and power! Here I look at you and think about something else. On a political Scarecrow in the world, which is languishing in deep mines on the territory of all nuclear powers? Using nuclear power scared people. And your shepherd Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi has no idea about the Scarecrow. Chasing a crazy flock of antelopes, and tapirs in the boundless steppes with a long whistling whip.
Hearing these words, the poor clogs Sabo Zulfiparishan, cried and flew into the street. She ran, tightly clutching the novel-bestseller "Silence in the mist" great writer of our time of Cardinal Sharle Carboran and cried. She hurried towards the steppe, where he herded a herd of wild sagas and tapir his beloved Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi, sitting on the tapir, driving long whip humming and rotating, like a giant whirlpool, a herd of tapir steppe and saga. When they reached the steppe, saw from afar the shepherd Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi and rushed to her tapir. And they hugged each other.
- Come, my wonderful one! How I've missed you! - said the shepherd, Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi, kissing Sabo Zulfiparishan lips, eyes, chin and neck.
- I missed you too, my dear shepherd Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi! I can't live without you! I asked permission from my father, but my father refused. I cannot, says he, my child, you marry the shepherd Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi, who has no idea about the Scarecrow. He, says he, only knows how to drive a herd of antelopes and tapirs in the boundless steppes with a long and whistling of the whip. Tell me, my dear, Sahib Mustafa Suleiman Karbalayi, why the fate of the people in my life are not like the fate of the characters of the novel ""Silence in the mist"" our beloved writer Cardinal Sharle Carborane, because the novel is written? Why did you become a shepherd as a character of this novel, which I always carry with me and read to the holes? What do we do now? - cried Sabo Zulfiparishan.
I'm not a shepherd by profession - said Mustafa Suleiman Sahib Karbalayi.
-Who are you then? - surprised Sabo Zulfiparishan.
- I will not say, because you don't believe me - said Mustafa Suleiman Sahib Karbalayi.
- No, you tell me - insisted Sabo Zulfiparishan.
- Well,- said Mustafa Suleiman Sahib Karbalayi and continued - just promise me you won't faint.
- Agreed - said Sabo Zulfiparishan.
- Then listen. I am the same writer who wrote the novel "Silence in the mist" under the pen name of Cardinal Sharle Corburan! That is, I'm your favorite writer, who wrote the book you always carry with you and read to holes. Give me that book, I'll write you an autograph for memory - said the shepherd of the steppe antelopes and tapirs Mustafa Sahib Suleiman Karbalayi. From this news, poor Sabo Zulfiparishan dizzy, and she fainted. Here's an interesting book, a novel by my favorite author Cardinal Sharle Carboran - said the librarian Bahorshamol Oyshu"lanafis Guzalgultozan.
- Yeah-aah, really, a novel, exciting and breathtaking ' I said, glancing furtively glance on an elastic half-naked breast of librarian Bahorshamol Oyshu"lanafis Guzalgultozan. These are the things I love. I put on this point, to new writing meetings.
The most interesting part of the story of Cardinal Sharle Carborane,Khurshida fell asleep.
It woke Raheela and began to speak.
Oh, I have, among other things, a unique idea - Raheela smiled.
- What is the idea? - Asked Khurshida.
Rahila, in a low voice, whispered in the ears of Khurshida.
- What if I, too, run away with you huh? The three of us would live happily and freely, where we can't find your father she said.
- Yeah, not a bad idea. Brilliantly! Why we previously didn't think about that, Yeah, run away, the three of us said Khurshida rejoicing. After that, they spent the night preparing to escape, by collecting the right things in the hay bales. In the morning departure of Abduljabbar to work with Raheela Khurshida closed the building of the castle and cautiously went outside. The street was still hazy, and this weather condition just contributed to them. They quickly walked through the fog towards the field, hiding from the strangers eyes.
- Learning about our plan, Sultan will be happy - said Khurshida, walking briskly.
- Yes, I think so too, said Raheela and continued:
- I'm not running away from your father, no, I have long ceased to fear him. I think only of you, daughter. I'm ready to die, seeing that the day you'll find happiness. Why would I want to become close with the rich officials, if you don't like the guy getting married? It is not in money and not in luxury - she said.
Now Raheela with Khurshida barely walked in a furrow among the layers. They walked for a long time, then stopped and listened carefully to the silence. If any of the silent fog they could see the tractor driver Sultan, even if he was fixing it somewhere. And then they went blind.
- Oh, my God, there's no Sultan, or today for his day off, and suddenly he... God Forbid he got sick - said Khurshida.
- Can he repair his tractor? Sitting or sleeping in the cab of the tractor, hard man all night to work but still in a dense fog, alone. Even the robot, and then breaks down at such hellish work. You call him sweetheart. If he hears your voice, it will respond - advised Raheela.
- What is possible and to call, as these fields right now nobody but us no -said Khurshida and started screaming, calling her beloved kid.
-Sultaaaaaaaan! Ahh, Sultaaaaaaan! Where Are You?! Respond, my mother came! We have a very good idea! - she screamed, but the tractor driver Sultan did not respond.
Finally, they understood that the tractor driver Sultan is not in the field there. Khurshida, after losing all hope, threw herself into the arms of his mother and again wept bitterly. Raheela too.