monochrome-story

Latest Posts by monochrome-story

Hello, dear traveller. It's not a big story (but I'm making a small sequel for it) , but it's important to me, because this time I translated it by myself. So if you see the mistake, please tell me about it. I really want to improve my language skills and this will help me a lot. Have a good reading!

- ... Hello?

- You're gonna die soon

- Oh, and that's why you called me? Awww, you're so worried about me? Glad to hear

- Hold on, I never care about anybody, including you. I just don't like the deaths afterwards

(Whistling) - Do you have a plan?

- What do you think?

- Obviously

- Congrats! I'll send you an email. Be prepared

- Am I again the pawn?

- Maybe, this time you're the queen

- Thanks

And I don't get the answer. The blue screen of the phone went out. What's going on this time?

Click

White laptop screen makes a window in the shade. On second after that I got an email. I'm pushing buttons and open the email.

"Here we go again" - I rolled my eyes. This will be very fun.

As usual, he made a note for an "unplanned incident". Like he might not anticipate something. It says:

"Document for Salvatore Pellegrini. Please, if you're not him, delete this message without reading it. If you're him, then write the password to open the document.

12 a. m. xx. xx. xxxx"

A little expressive sketch, enjoy your reading. And as usual, I apologise for the incorrect translation.

Laughter. Irritating, rude, vulgar laughter. Crowd laughter.

I bite the bullet. And they're baring their teeth. Just a little more, just a little more, and I'll be in their hands.

A mindless mob. Their smiles are predation and you're the prey.

Hit or run.

"Well, laugh, laugh," I baring my teeth in response, taking away the trembling. I don't want to disappear or sink into the ground. I want to tear.

Tear myself to pieces.

For the public's amusement.

For my own amusement.

The last thing I hear is "look" and a snide laugh. I open the door, I walk away.

Hit or run.

Run.

It's really

funny

I wanted to post something on Goethe's Faust, but I remembered that all my thoughts were formed in the context of the translation into my native language. And in the original/other translation, phrases can (and probably will) have ABSOLUTELY different meanings, which makes all my judgements either completely untenable or superficially related to the topic

I mean

It's hard

I hope you don't think I'm dead yet. As usual, sorry for the incorrect translation and enjoy your reading!

Weeper

When I looked out the window, I was blinded by the rising sun. I see her. She's smiling, weaving a wreath of young willow branches, silly. Who else would choose to weave willow wreaths?

I think she's calling me, waving her hand. I don't want to go out and spoil the fun, but something is starting to worry me. I take another look at her. Her feet. Why are they all muddy? Did she go down to the river?

Stepping out the door, all I could see was a willow tree. The spreading branches of the weeper cast a shadow on the murky water of the river. Where are you, sister? You were here only a moment ago. Where have you gone? Not to the village?

An early morning reddish haze covered the village. No one. Almost no one. By one yellow-roofed house stood an old man and a girl.

- Uncle Zhenya! - I called out to him, coming closer. - Hello. Have you seen Sashenka? She was playing by the willow tree, but she's gone somewhere. Probably playing hide-and-seek.

- By the willow tree, you say? - sighed the old man - The devil is calling you to the willow again, and you're still looking for Sasha. Go back home and go back to sleep

- But how can there be a devil if I've seen my sister?! - Uncle Zhenya grinned bitterly - So what if you have seen her? The willow is fooling you, the blind weeper. Do you want to know the history of this curse again?

- Again? Why "again"? I never asked about it, I never cared. Now you do, since you call my sister a devil. -The old man crossed himself - God be with you, you wretch. Listen to your story!

And the old man began his story:

"About eleven years ago a family came to our village. A family like a family. Father, mother and two children. The girl was five years old, the boy nine. They settled in the house where you live now. But the willow tree was very young then... I should have cut it down back then... It doesn't matter now.

At first they lived as they usually lived here, even better. Quiet, peaceful, friendly to everyone. Especially their youngest daughter - frisky, cheerful. Just an angel. We helped them as much as we could, and they helped us. Only on one of the godparents' evenings the women predicted bad luck to Marina, the mother of the family. It always happens when people are careless about the Conduct. True, in time everyone forgot about the prediction, but, apparently, Marina did not forget her fate......

When did it all start? Oh, on the fourth year after they came to us. The quarrels became almost constant, and why? Grigory, the father of the family, told me that his wife behaves more and more strangely. She is afraid of something and looks at the willow tree. And he gets angry and asks: "What are you hiding from me? What's bothering you?" He swore and swore, but he never found out.

The day began as usual, but there was silence in the house, a rare silence. It was a holiday, people were busy all day. And then their son came up and asked: "What is that willow tree growing on the shore? Has anyone seen my little sister?"

The people replied, "No one has seen your sister," but they were worried. The boy seemed strange to them. They asked him where his father was and where his mother was. He replied that his father had gone to a neighbouring village to get presents, and he had not seen his mother, only his sister. They went to look round the house - there was no one there.

And then Grigory appeared. What a fuss!

It turned out that Marinka completely lost her mind and threw herself and her daughter into the river. From the very place where the willow tree grew. They didn't even bury them, because that's a terrible sin! Time passed, the father died, and the son.....

But what is there to say about him?"

Grandpa finished his story. The guy standing in front of us turned pale and walked away.

- Grandpa, Grandpa, tell me, is the story true? And what happened to the son? - Wrapping my arms around the hand of a dear man begged me. Grandpa shook his head. - There is no fiction in the story, because the son was standing in front of you. So he did not accept the death of his sister, Sashenka. God knows he knew what the women had predicted to Marinka....

- What did they predict, Grandpa?

- That she and her son would drown by carelessness. And Marinka decided to give her daughter to Providence instead of her son. The girl was terribly ill anyway. I don't think she'd have lived to be your age. But you can't cheat fate.

I mean

Yes

Just yes

more "wisdom"

a piece of writing isn't truly done until you're so sick of looking at it that you're ready to delete the file out of spite

Can't post much at the moment. Here's an excerpt from a short story. I apologise in advance for the incorrect translation

"About eleven years ago a family came to our village. A family like a family. Father, mother and two children. The girl was five years old, the boy nine. They settled in the house where you live now. But the willow tree was very young then... I should have cut it down back then... It doesn't matter now.

And the old man began his story:

At first they lived as they usually lived here, even better. Quiet, peaceful, friendly to everyone. Especially their youngest daughter - frisky, cheerful. Just an angel. We helped them as much as we could, and they helped us. Only on one of the godparents' evenings the women predicted bad luck to Marina, the mother of the family. It always happens when people are careless about the Conduct. True, in time everyone forgot about the prediction, but, apparently, Marina did not forget her fate......

When did it all start? Oh, on the fourth year after they came to us. The quarrels became almost constant, and why? Grigory, the father of the family, told me that his wife behaves more and more strangely. She is afraid of something and looks at the willow tree. And he gets angry and asks: "What are you hiding from me? What's bothering you?" He swore and swore, but he never found out.

The day began as usual, but there was silence in the house, a rare silence. It was a holiday, people were busy all day. And then their son came up and asked: "What is that willow tree growing on the shore? Has anyone seen my little sister?"

The people replied, "No one has seen your sister," but they were worried. The boy seemed strange to them. They asked him where his father was and where his mother was. He replied that his father had gone to a neighbouring village to get presents, and he had not seen his mother, only his sister. They went to look round the house - there was no one there.

And then Grigory appeared. What a fuss!

It turned out that Marinka completely lost her mind and threw herself and her daughter into the river. From the very place where the willow tree grew. They didn't even bury them, because that's a terrible sin! Time passed, the father died, and the son.....

But what is there to say about him?"

The Last Portrait of the Whitshlir Dynasty

When a new empress ascended to the throne of the Osalti Empire, everyone expected her to end the oppression and wars. And the wars did end, and the empire began to flourish. As if her rule was illuminated by the sun. But every sun sets.

Now it has been 20 years, and everyone watches with fondness the empress's family. On her beautiful daughter. Unaware of how the queen becomes more absorbed in beliefs and predictions. Ah, could the people's faith have been the cause of tragedy?

That day was one of the few sunny days in the capital. It's a pity that the little girl will never see the sun again. Empress, can you wash away the blood of your own child?

Unfortunately, no. She was convinced that her sacrifice would safe the empire, even if it meant her and her family paying the price. But what she did will go down in history as 'The Day the Sky Fell'

It is said that in the gardens of the old palace, you can still see a girl collecting flowers. And in the long gallery, you can hear the quiet song of the woman in the veil:

Sleep, my little girl, sleep

The sun has set time ago,

It's a pity that only the flowers

Could hear my song

I own the text and the rights to it. The image was made in AI and you can safely use it. Also apologise for any mistakes in translation, English is not my native language