Татьяна Трубникова - Disrupted Breath

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What are the things experienced by the human soul on the sharpest edge of death or life? Isn't this nothing but revealing of the personality's true essence? The story «Shahid» is an attempt to look «beyond»… Breathing is so rapid that it is impossible to breathe in… The heart breaks into pieces of horror. The fate of an ordinary boy viewed through the crushed crooked mirrors of war in the conflict of East and West.
The search, the slow clarification of the one's his true path, the lessons taught by life and love, are in the stories «Lollipops», «Christmas Jam», «Chestnuts», «At the Donskoy Monastery».
«The Weird Man» is the strangest of all stories in this book. The title of it appeared in my dream. Entire epochs of Soviet life are seen through the story of my heroes. The invention, artfully connected with another invention… You would never guess what happened for real truth in it, in this story. I wish you a risky and unpredictable journey to other people's stories – in my book «Disrupted Breath».

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He got tired and simply kept lying naked looking at the sky.

Patimat was praying. Shamil said her:

– Well we will lose a couple of sheep instead a man will return home.

– Why don't you understand that he will not be able to do this?

– He will do this. He has no choice.

– Never. Never.

Patimat cried. She said:

– He will do everything you ask him. You say die – he will die. Ahmet will think about. Will ask – what for? But Aslanbek will die if you want it… Just in case he thinks you want his last?!

– Shut up!!! Or… Talaq!

Patimat threw herself down on knees.

If he said it two times more they would be divorced and she would be dishonored…

Only Aslanbek knew how he survived the third day. He couldn't sleep. Although a dream could save him. He clearly recognized that he would die soon. Such an insight happened not so often. But, as usual, unmistakably. There was no pain except his back. But there was an awful lack of energy. He should put tremendous efforts to move his hand or leg. But he didn't let the knife out of his hands. He was looking at sheep and saw there only the vessel with saving liquid. He desired their blood. He was persistently imagining himself drinking this blood. He couldn't divest himself of this idea as he couldn't make desperate efforts. By noonday he saw nothing around but sheep. He didn't think that there he couldn't have enough force to kill a sheep. He knew he could do this. He would win in the last spirt for the life. But he continued laying and losing strength. He didn't have any soft feeling for sheep. He didn't pity them. But he knew: Shamil was waiting him to drink their blood. And it was quite enough. Aslanbek was ready to die but not to do that.

The sun was already setting down to the top of mountains in the west. Aslanbek recognized that if he didn't get on his legs now he would die till morning. He spent few minutes to rise up. He felt so giddy that could lose conscience. That would be the end. He came through this sickness. His first few steps were terrible. He was simply staying for a long time. There was no force to flap the whip. Luckily for him the sheep were grazing united and didn't disperse.

The more steps he did the easier it was to do. Sometime later he was able to drive the stock. Sheep were running together.

«They know we are going home», – thought the boy.

They had a distant trip. Aslanbek tried to rate his strength. Now back pain added blade-bone pain. He didn't know his heart was sore. There was absolutely overpowering stench coming from his mouth and skin. He was going with hunched back as he couldn't unbend to the full. His walking looked like old aged one.

He fell not far from aul. Near his favorite place on the hillside. He lost conscience.

Sheep were running on the well-known way alone. At once they were seen by everyone. Was made a hustle, fuss. Patimat run out of home. Shamil stepped out calmly and with dignity.

– Sheep returned alone! – Patimat cried. – Find our son!!!

Instead Shamil was counting sheep.

– All! – he said growing dark and fierce.

Patimat run farther. She found son on «his» place. She made an effort to raise him up. Neighbor women came to her aid and helped to bring the boy. The sheep were lapping down from drinking bowl, knocking and bleating.

Aslanbek was lying in the bed. Patimat tried to pour water into his mouth. But drops were running by his mouth. Shamil came from behind. He broke up bazalay from the belt. He looked it over. There were no blood marks on it. Only ground remains. He flipped it, spread with fingers.

– He will never be a soldier.

… When Aslanbek woke up it was morning again. First of all, he caught his knife. It was gone. Then he looked around. He was at home. Woke up. He was so dizzy of sickness but there was no back pain. He drank. Found his bazalay. And hanged it up on the belt.

… Relationship with father was screwed. But not in such a context which could be known by European. As was right and proper they were based on absolute subjection and respect by the youngest, i. e. Aslanbek, to the elder, i. e. Shamil. But Aslanbek remembered that father had taken everywhere Ahmet, his elder brother, when the last one was at his age. They went to hunting, to neighboring auls… And of what could they be silent for hours? But both understood each other without words. While speaking with Aslanbek father was like discharging duties and no more. Aslanbek felt this. Shamil didn't trust him. And didn't believe he would make good. Aslanbek was ready to die as to prove him the contrary. But he wasn't ready to subordinate for these reasons. Shamil thought that if you couldn't become a reflection of father's will you wouldn't be able to execute the will of Allah.

While Aslanbek was gasping for a drink it seemed he thought only about how to survive. But in fact somewhere deep in his unconscious the brain was working. And absolutely unexpected some things popped to his head when he recovered himself after that three days. That were adult ideas but not such of a ten-years-old boy.

He could die. He knew it exactly because he couldn't forget such a feeling of death which he felt unmistakably on the third day. What then?! Why somebody die being a child and others – being respected old people, wok stags? Maybe elder knew some secret how to survive? But he was sure they wouldn't give the secret away. Not for any price. Least of all to a kid. And if at last he asks wok stag Rashid? Aslanbek imagined that one laughing wisely in his beard but not answering anything…

One more thing. Ahmet had never been hungry and thirsty for three days. But the father trusts him. And Aslanbek – not. In his spirit woke up jealousy and anger but right then Aslanbek thought he should be proud of that testing. In no case of overpassing it, but because of it happened to him. Ahmet didn't have such a fear and pain. Thank you father! Anyhow he would try to prove himself. Worse than that. For sure he would climb that mountain. And would get down without knife.

He was thinking about all this sitting at his favorite place. All the aul got accustomed to his freak. The only his friend Salman understood him. It was a pity he didn't hear mountains moaning and breathing more clearly and heavily…

Salman suggested him to learn shooting. He said:

– It's time.

Aslanbek also felt that it was about time. But from where came such insight he didn't know. Shamil wasn't surprised when had heard his desire to give him a gun. There was almost no improvised weapon for which these mountains were well-known. A great part of it came up here from northern and southern neighbors. Only noble sword-blades were forged here. Aslanbek's bazalay was a local one. Shamil brought for son an old «Makarov» gun. He handed it over and said he wouldn't teach him shooting because Aslanbek was clever and would get it himself.

Now two friends – Aslanbek and Salman – spent time disassembling and assembling their weapons. It took some time before the boy recognized the existence and assignment of the weapon's safety lock.

One week later after he took a gun into the hands, mountains gave back an echo of the first shoots. In this echo the boy heard something that mountains were warning of. But he couldn't make sense of these words. Wok stag Rashid always said that their mountains were more open space than a flat land. One wrong word would reflect enmity and enmity – blood. For which you should pay with blood. And he told. Once a man had been lost in the mountains. He was mortally hungry. That's why he had stolen a chicken in the strange aul. He had eaten it and survived. But the offended man found him. He knew adat very well. He had taken a sheep instead of his chicken. Not to be in debt the other one had stolen a horse. A horse in mountains was like a man. A keeper of chicken and horse had come back and killed the offender. Then a family of the killed man had destroyed the whole family of the killer. Blood vengeance – kanly. Now they say kir. All the aul in which such a disaster happened, got up as this was one folk though distantly related. Two auls had gathered. Nobody had left alive…

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