Tales of Ghosts. Playing Another Reality. Edgar Allan Poe award

5. Cranberries

I loved my Mummy and cranberries in the swamp, and Masha adored Lapland deer fillet and French snails in a cafe on Rublyovka. How didn’t I guess right away that nothing good would come of it again?

I was ten years older than her, not a bad age difference to make a girl obedient in everything, but I was awfully mistaken! Masha didn’t consider me a genius, and, even worse, she turned out to be completely unlike Mummy, although I checked their birthdays in advance before going on ‘the offensive’, that is, to get acquainted!

Why not? At that time, I was an enviable groom! – unburdened by children and free of alimony, with real estate in a swamp! A handsome man in his prime! Mummy had just died, so our meeting with Masha seemed very appropriate!

As for my ex-wife, everything had gone wrong immediately, because my parents, especially Mummy, didn’t like her. However, we had lived together for several years. Yes, we’d got a son, but I never considered him as my child! Not because I wasn’t his father (unimaginable!), I just didn’t feel anything for him, whether he was or not.

Thank God, I quickly got rid of them both, my wife and my son, and life returned to its previous course… with Mummy! Well, with dad also.

I lived in a beautiful swamp and picked up cranberries. When there were no cranberries in the swamp, I got them out of our fridges, picked in season. If you eat cranberries all the time, you will never get sick! That’s what Mummy said. It’s an axiom! What is life without cranberries?

Masha seemed to be so quiet, so obedient, so … like Mummy! For some reason, she loved Lapland deer fillet and French snails! I couldn’t understand why! And, apparently, I will never do. Why should I sponsor a cafe on Rublyovka? After all, one needs, at least, to work for this. Was I a fool, or what, to work? I had never worked. As soon as I graduated from the institute, or rather dropped out, I never worked! Are you still plowing?

I was a free artist. I created pictures and poems. Like Mummy! Yes, she always wrote something at night in her diary. I used to show her my poems. And she liked them. She always praised me. And once she said that I became a poet. So, I was a poet. Did Pushkin really work? No, he was creating! And so did I! To create poetry, one needs peace, no other work. Therefore, I quit the aviation institute as soon as Mummy considered me as a poet, and bought myself a disability!

My ex-wife, like most people, ‘plowed for her boss’, while I wondered, why the Muse visited me so rarely. However, it would be a sin to complain! In thirty-odd years I had written as many as 200 poems, but, of course, that’s nothing compared to the quantity of cranberries I’d picked up, measured in kilograms or in fridges where they were stored off-season.

So, one day I met Masha. In the swamp. Picking cranberries. I had a house in the swamp. There, you know, it was a huge no one’s land. Well… not no one’s, but wanted by nobody. Mummy was born in those swamps, however, their house hadn’t survived. I decided to make a gift to Mummy, so I built a small house on the no one’s land, almost a hut, but with a stove! For my Mummy and me. Well, for dad also. And when Mummy died, a place for Masha was vacated in the hut. Or rather, for someone who would be like Mummy and love cranberries. So, one day I was picking cranberries and noticed Masha.

I could see through people and immediately realized that Masha was also a poet. She was looking for her Muse in my swamp! I came up to her, we got talking. I suggested picking cranberries together. In cranberry season. And out of season, getting berries from my fridge. Rather, I had several refrigerators, hidden in the swamp, I think I’ve already told you, I’d got them specifically for cranberries.

Masha laughed for some reason. Did I say something funny?! It was the first sign from Heaven that she was not like Mummy! Mummy had never laughed at me! Okay, I supposed that Masha was flirting with me like that and forgave her for the first time.

However, Masha really wrote poetry! I’ve told you I could see right through people! And she gave me her book. About ghosts! Wow! And I immediately passed it to my dad for verification… whether he would like her poetry or not. As a result, dad blessed me, and I went on the offensive!

Masha lived in the city. Sometimes in summer she stopped at a cafe on Rublyovka to eat a fillet of Lapland deer or French snails, and she came to my swamp by chance, while visiting distant relatives.

So… I accomplished a feat! I had to come to the city from my swamp in order to walk Masha along Tverskaya street in the evening. You see, in winter, Masha was ‘plowing for her boss’ in a bookstore… to eat Lapland deer fillets and French snails occasionally in summer!

I remember we walked from Mayakovskaya to the Kremlin, discussing many details important to me. I asked where her mother had been buried and told about Mummy’s funeral. On the stretch from Mayakovskaya to Pushkinskaya, we discussed cemeteries, where the Muses were found, like in swamps, and from Pushkinskaya to the Kremlin, we talked about cranberries.

I must have awakened Masha’s appetite, but – God forgive me! – I didn’t pay much attention to the second sign from Heaven, I mean, Masha hinted that it would be nice to go to a cafe! To eat near the Kremlin or even on Tverskaya?! Thank you! Mummy had never eaten outside at all, not to mention Tverskaya or near the Kremlin! However, instead of saying goodbye to Masha immediately and forever, I pretended not to notice her desire to have a bite. I brought her to the subway and returned to my swamp. By the way, I drive an antique parent’s car! Mummy loved it very much, so do I!

The cranberry season was still far away… and I felt sad. I sent Masha a letter from the swamp. And she dared to write me back… nothing!!! Then I got angry and sent her a postscript, “And just dare to say something bad about my mother! I will kill you!”

Okay, Masha hadn’t said anything bad about Mummy at that time, but I decided to warn her in advance, just to let her know! I hadn’t warned my ex-wife. And when, after several years of our life together, she dared to say that Mummy should finally let us live separately… Imagine! Who would have thought! How many years I had endured her!

However, Masha was silent again! I saw that she had received and read my message and the postscript to it!

I got furious!!! Mummy had reacted to all my messages with lightning speed! So I decided, knowing where and until what hour Masha worked, to secretly follow her in the evenings – from her office to her home – to see if my passion had anyone to eat together Lapland deer fillets and French snails!

Thank God, Masha and I had nothing special at that time, I mean, I hadn’t even touched her with a finger, not to mention all sorts of snails tenderness. Anyway, I had accomplished a whole step, driving Mummy’s favorite car from the swamp to the city and back only to walk Masha along Tverskaya that evening!

I settled in with some homeless bums in the basement opposite Masha’s house. Well, it was okay, I could bear it, since I started it for a good cause, to get know what to do with Masha… I told my dad that I was on a secret mission of special services, so I would be absent in our swamp for a while.

And so… a week later… I noticed that Masha met some sort of a girl of her age!.. And they went to a cafe… near the Kremlin!!!

“What a shit?! How did she dare to change me for a girl??? Mummy! Forgive me! Sorry! I dared to imagine that Masha is like you!!!”

I returned to the swamp and wept! The bright memory of my holy Mummy was instantly desecrated by the mere thought of a possible connection with such a dirty and vicious Masha! How could I have allowed such a sacrilegious black stain to appear?! Shit! It needed to be removed immediately! Once and forever!!!

That evening I went to the city and ambushed Masha, who was returning home from work, at the entrance to her house. She even smiled at seeing me and said “Hi”, as if we had seen each other the day before. I suggested talking in Mummy’s car. And – how lucky I was! – she agreed.

Of course, Masha said I was crazy, because that girl of her age had been just her cousin. But did Masha’s words give a 100% guarantee that there had been nothing between them – well, you know, what I mean! – when I returned to the swamp out of grief…

I didn’t go to a cafe even with my brother! I hadn’t seen him in ages. Since he got married. Yes, he was a traitor! Left Mummy! Swapped her for some…

Sorry, I was distracted from Masha!

She could tell me anything just to escape, as I had caught her like a bird in a cage, locking in Mummy’s favorite car, but Masha was completely different from Mummy! And I couldn’t… just couldn’t do otherwise! After all, Mummy had promised to watch over me from Heaven and to be always nearby! So, she knew that I… fell for Masha and imagined her in the place of Mummy!!! Oh, my God!!! Just the thought of it drove me crazy!

I took Masha to the swamp (naturally, we didn’t go into our family hut, so as not to desecrate it!), and then, when that disgustingly vicious woman was already dead, I got myself cranberries from the fridge and ate, and ate, and ate them so that not to catch a cold after another stress! – as Mummy had always advised…

April 02, 2021

6. Coffee

I was composing an important letter in the office, when the phone rang again. An excited female voice asked for Vladislav.

“Excuse me, could you introduce yourself?” I asked.

“His wife…”

I tried not to show up my surprise and keep calm at least outwardly. Firstly, she used to call him on his mobile, never to the office. Secondly, Vlad planned to spend that day negotiating at the bank since morning. Didn’t she know? But there was no time to think.

“Hello, Marina! It’s Vika. Vladislav is at the bank. I’m not sure he’ll show up in the office. Can I help you?”

“Yes,” she said, still excited. “I called on his mobile, it’s switched off, I left him a message. The alarm went off in our flat. I’m scared!”

“The negotiations won’t be over until lunchtime. Anyway, Vladislav will certainly listen to your message. Of course, I can call him too, but if the phone is switched off …”

“I’m so scared, Vika! Could you come over right now? Please!”

“Okay,” I reluctantly agreed, since they lived a couple of minutes from the office, and it would be more expensive to resist.

“I am waiting for you at the entrance! Thanks!” Marina breathed a sigh of relief.

I called Vlad, but the answering machine turned on.

“Your wife’s called. She’s asked me to come to your house immediately. Well, I’m going…”

***

“Hello, Vika! I’m very embarrassed! I met our neighbor, and he helped me with this damn alarm! So, everything is fine, it just went off by accident! Sorry for disturbing you!”

“Not a big deal! I am glad that’s all right! To be honest, I understand nothing in alarm systems,” I exhaled and was about to turn back and leave, as Marina stopped me.

“Vika, I don’t feel comfortable! Come in for a while! Let’s drink coffee! I’ll treat you to something delicious!” she offered smiling.

“No, no, I have to go back to the office!” I said, squeezing out a smile in return.

“Your office can wait! Moreover, your boss is at the bank! Let’s go, come on! I won’t let you off so easily now!”

I wasn’t too keen on going into their flat, although I had never been there before. I was even more embarrassed by the prospect of the upcoming conversation. A couple of years ago, when Marina and I had got acquainted, I tried to chat with her on general topics, but, as it turned out, we had really not much to talk about, besides, I was afraid to say something extra, so we ended up drinking coffee in silence.

However, she almost dragged me into the entrance.

We got up to their flat. Marina invited me into the kitchen. I was looking at the collection of souvenirs on the open shelves without much interest, while she brewed coffee.

“How are you?” Marina suddenly broke the silence.

“I wonder who she means saying ‘you’? ” flashed through my head, but I tried to respond neutrally, “Everything is just as usual.”

“Vlad said that a business trip to Finland is planned.”

“Yes, but no dates have been set yet.”

We sat down at the kitchen table. Marina silently offered to clink the cups. I didn’t resist.

“When are the negotiations supposed to be over?” she asked, taking her first sip and glancing at her watch.

“I don’t know, probably soon,” I answered and felt a sharp pain in my stomach, once again remembering the doctors’ advice to forget about such a wonderful drink.

“Vika, do you believe in life after death?” Marina suddenly asked and picked me up, as I was losing consciousness from pain. “Come with me!”

The pain left me as abruptly as it had appeared. I got up from the floor and followed Marina into the living room. She stopped by the window.

“Now there is nothing to fear and lose,” she said without looking into my eyes. “Why did you need him?”

“I don’t know what to answer you…”

I knew what to answer her. I loved Vlad. Not for anything. And that’s why I didn’t care what status to be next to him. Did Vlad love me? A great question. Anyway, I had never asked him to divorce his wife, realizing that he got used to her. I didn’t wish them any harm.

“God sees everything, Vika. He should have punished you both. You can’t imagine how much I hate you! However, God will forgive me for what I’ve done,” Marina began to sob like a kid.

“What have you done?” I got surprised and, from a bad feeling, I immediately turned to Vlad mentally, “Please, come here quickly! Your Marina is going to eat me now!”

“I know he wouldn’t leave you! Yes, I’ve never loved him, since it was a marriage of convenience, but he had no right! No right!!!”

“Calm down, please!” I didn’t know what to say in such cases.

“I couldn’t live like this! Could not! He had to lose us both!!!”

Suddenly we heard rushing footsteps on the stairs, and the front door slammed.

“Marina! Vika!” Vlad shouted out of breath, “are you there?”

Marina froze in silence, turning to the window, and I ran out into the corridor.

“It’s nice of you to come!” I exclaimed.

Vlad didn’t seem to hear me, heading for the kitchen quickly.

“We are here!” I shouted again. However, frozen at the ajar door, Vlad didn’t even turn around.

“Marina!!! No, you couldn’t!” he exclaimed without turning to me.

“God must forgive me!” she said coldly, approaching us.

I stood between them, trying in vain to figure out what had happened. Vlad turned around, slammed the kitchen door in my face, and, not paying any attention to us, started pacing back and forth down the corridor, frantically dialing someone’s number on his phone.

“Vlad, what’s wrong?!” I wondered.

“I’ve calculated everything,” Marina said, patting her husband on the shoulder. “It’s too late!”

“Ambulance?” shouted Vlad, getting through.

“What damn ambulance?! What’s wrong with you?” I screamed in his ear.

“He doesn’t hear us,” Marina stated. “However, life after death exists indeed.”

May, 2002

7. Intergalactic Union of Writers

The path to my glory was easy enough, since I was incredibly lucky!

However, it all started with the fact that I was born exceptionally ugly and short. My twin sister, Maya, on the contrary, turned out to be pretty, and short stature for a girl is more of a plus than a minus. Everyone liked Maya and turned up their noses at me. No matter how much I tried to please people, to get their attention, it was all in vain. Even heavy shoes with thick soles didn’t add to my weight or height.

That’s the way I became a writer. I got myself a vest in the form of a diary, to which I trusted my intimate sufferings from non-reciprocity, but after the first rhyme that came to mind, I changed my shoes into a poet. Soon I discovered plenty of websites where one could post one’s masterpieces. As a result, after painful swings between pros and cons, because at that time I wasn’t sure yet of the excellence of my works, I nevertheless registered the profile, uploaded a picture of a handsome man and my first verse, the “Unrecognized Genius, or The Rejected”.

Incredibly, I was instantly hit by a flurry of positive responses, including declarations of love from women of all ages, suits and calibers!

They began to invite me to events at literary associations and circles, to performances in museums, libraries, schools and even kindergartens, which at first I was naturally embarrassed, because the picture of a nameless handsome man, posted by me on the Internet, was radically different from my reflection in the mirror.

However, Pushkin, you know, was outwardly also for an amateur…

So, I got onto stage! I was applauded by the arenas! Women asked for an autographed book, composed and sang songs based on my poems, snuggled up to me in collective photos and hinted in every possible way that they wouldn’t mind getting to know me better. Anyway, there were no men in literary units, with the exception of a few pensioners and chronic alcoholics, against the background of which I looked like a fairy-tale prince. And yes, I enjoyed it! That was something quite different from being home, among relatives, or in the office at work…

Soon, a retired lady in love with me gave me a recommendation to join the Union of Writers of the City, I printed two books of the ‘chosen lyrics’, submitted them with the recommendation, to the admission committee, and… was accepted! Wow! Accepted! They said that my lyrics shocked them to the core, especially the poem “Unrecognized Genius”.

However, the second old woman in love with me was jealous of the first one and invited me to join the City Union of Writers. You may ask, what’s the difference between the Union of Writers of the City and the City Union of Writers? I still don’t understand that myself, but the old lady said that the City Union of Writers was quoted higher. So I deserved the best!

Within five years, I was accepted into all the existing literary associations and Writers’ Unions, which headquarters were located in our city and on its outskirts, each of them considered itself much cooler than all the others put together.

I dutifully paid my annual dues. And more and more often, I received letters with nominations for numerous competitions, in which I always… won! Traditionally, each selection of my poems for any competition began with the “Unrecognized Genius”, already a 100% verified masterpiece, my calling card in contemporary poetry. And rather, in literature in general, what is there to hide, since my “Unrecognized Genius” was awarded not only the Alexander Pushkin Prize, but also won the Leo Tolstoy, Nikolai Gogol and Anton Pavlovich Chekhov competitions! Of course, I asked the organizers of the competitions to take into consideration for prose writers’ awards my diary prose instead of poetry, but I was immediately assured that my poetry was so large-scale and profound that the greatest prose masters of the world would have been happy to give me all their orders and medals!

And after these words, I finally discarded the last doubts in myself!

After five years of rotation in literary circles, there was no free space left on my jacket! It glistened with gold, pleasantly rang with glory and, like a magnet, attracted almost every literary woman without exception. And once I wore this jacket to an office party. And – wow, yes! It was my ‘minute of glory’!

Only stupid Maya laughed at me! She considered my poems worthless in meaning and ugly in rhymes! She said that Tolstoy, Gogol and Chekhov, together with Pushkin and others like them, had long dreamed of meeting me in the Other World in order to send me to Hell for a frying pan, because all my awards were given not for the quality of works and not for me alone, but for money to everyone.

I tried to explain to my sister that we lived in a commercial society, the writers’ unions had not been funded by the state for a long time, so they were forced to encourage authors at the expense of the very same authors. Victories in national competitions and government awards were given only to “their own”, and, for sure, they cost much more. However, Maya wasn’t lazy to calculate how much money I had spent on my literary activities in five years, and assured me that a cottage by the sea in Europe cost much cheaper!

Oh, Europe… Okay, Maya was right: it was time to conquer Europe, and then Asia, and … the whole world! And – unbelievable! – I found out the Union of European Writers, and then the Union of Writers of Asia, the Union of Writers of Eurasia, and later the Union of Writers of North and South America, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Peru, Easter Island and the Fiji Islands, Papua and New Guinea, Antarctica and Arctic…

I ended up reaching the North and South Poles in the next five years!

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