1:
In their rich, clean, luxurious apartment in the dirty, cramped factory town of Dzor, our boss's ugly, skinny, beloved daughter had a dream of a child's fairy tale, woke up, and told it to her all-powerful father. But it was also the dream of the father, also the dream of the hundred-year-old grandmother.
- So, a butterfly, said the girl, a butterfly.
- Is it the butterfly or the river bank, suggested the father, who also had not gotten out of bed yet. The girl was loved and knew she was loved.
- A real butterfly: red, green, said the girl.
- Alla butterfly is flying on the riverbank with a red butterfly, added the father.
- But you don't listen, said the girl, you don't listen.
- I hear, said the father, old apple trees...
- Why did she get old?
- Well, nice trees, then?
- So, a pond, fishes, flowers, the girl told.
- Bridge, his father used to throw.
- Bridge, the girl accepted the supplement. bridge over the river. But you won't make it, you won't make it, you won't make it.
- Ah, Alichka, you have no imagination. What do you want us to make?
Our leader's hundred-year-old mother was giving her child coffee, she was very surprised by the girl's dream. "Did this child see the dream himself or is he telling my old dream, said the old woman, wow, I saw it, my prince father fulfilled it."
- Let's see what the child tells. Tell me, our leader was directing the new dream of the child and the old dream of the old woman to a real goal.
- Butterfly, with bright eyes in the morning, still in a dream, said the girl, river, trees, me and Tuzik...
The old woman was given old memories.
- My father made it. If the beautiful people did not do anything to the enemy, they would burn it, the water, the tree, the rose and the nightingale were ours. the beauties would bring yogurt and honey.
- Their dog will bite our Tuzik, said the girl.
- They are homeless, and so are their dogs, said the old woman.
Our leader became serious, sharpened and saw with open eyes the most beloved corner of our country, where our grandfather's mill and garden were, now they were destroyed and abandoned.
2:
But we are also human and we have our dreams. lying half-asleep and half-awake, we saw the same river bank. as if we are still young, we take off our shirts and the sleeves of our shirts, we float the horse in the river, we become forgetful brides of the valley, they point to us by elbowing each other and shyly say: "Achchi, he is engaged", "look who the undeserving one has captured", and secretly laugh.
We woke up to the noise of the tractor-cars, jumped out of the room, looked - the small truck-carrier of the so-called head of the Hovti-Tsmakut joint farms was driving, followed by a truck full of people, and behind it, a bulldozer-tractor.
Choruk our lady was pouring tea on the balcony, she said.
- Not on the forest line, maybe they have something to do in the fields.
We got up and rushed inside to get dressed.
3:
That squad, which was called to build the riverside hermitage of our head of forestry, went up to the abandoned fields of this village of Tsmakut, went to stop at the doors of the big old cowshed-barn, got out of the cars. it was the head of the valley of the United Farms, whom we consider a secret brother, his driver, the head of the livestock farm, our sister's son, the boy from Muradents, whom the people secretly consider descended from us, the two brothers of the head of the farm, a saw master, a group of other working boys, and three incomprehensible existences in leather jackets, whom you don't know, whether you consider them criminals, secret militia or not. sportsman They came to demolish the old, large, empty barn, to provide the wood for the construction of the monastery. Heartless, soulless, indifferent and still practical, they climbed the ladder to the gabled roof, entered the barn, examined the men and the oak pillars, counted those men and pillars ("two hundred"), threw tiles from the gable, pulled out the holes, called "cuckoo head" and praised the construction material: "The building is fully secured", they were surprised at the number that is old the number of cattle in this poor village was: "Two hundred cows are tied here", there was a proposal not to take down the roof tile one by one ("Who needs it, there's a painted sheet there, right?"), but to throw the ropes and pull them with a tractor ("Ten days' work will be done in two days") and that America just blows up the old buildings ("I saw it in the cinema." "He takes it in steel and fucks it"). Our sister's son was not separated from the head of the economy for a second. things were bad, he willingly wanted to be liked and he, although he was from here, had no voice, no will and no sympathy for his dying village. And among those practical and soulless people, our steed was the only poor, old and living one. not far from the barn, in the abandoned fields, our steed stood watching the commotion. Gathering at the door of the barn, they opened a bottle of vodka on the occasion of starting the work, there was a little doubt only in the head of the economy, but it was not the doubt that could stop him from doing the work, he was just a little hesitant, but they gave him a glass and at that moment he noticed our horse, laughed and said:
- Our brother Rostom.
Our sister's child was not indifferent to that name - he said.
- The less name we give, it will be in our favor.
One of the men in leather jackets lit the other two with cigarettes, arranging the cigarettes in the pattern of a log cabin, explaining what the monastery should be like. It was interesting, others were also interested, there were those who understood that "only the head house of the monastery will carry thirty square meters of pure oak". "This will have" (the cowshed). Our sister's son had an answer to that. "He won't have it if he's standing alive."
"Standing Alive" was the age-old forest.
4:
We got out of the barn, snoring and choking, we said "it's you" about the horse that was looking at us, and we went to the barn. The barn had entrances from both ends, the cattle entrance, where the destroyers were clustered, and the other; a wooden shed was placed on this entrance, it was the accommodation of milkmen and cattle herders. it was locked, we took out the key with two fingers from the narrow crack, opened the lock, went inside. people lived there, were happy, sad, proud - now it was abandoned. a couple of signs of the old life still remained: the red flag of the corner and the honor board with milkmen, cows-milkmen, cows, a heavy Donbass bull and next to him our poor child-sized uncle with a child's sack in his hand. We closed our eyes against the reminders, approached the corner and took the wrapped flag from its place. "Hey, we said, is that it?" we approached to give back the doors that connected the outbuilding directly to the barn.
The row of windows provided light to all the departments. straight posts, straight stalls, planked floors and deep silence. The grave was eating us. we stopped, lowered our heavy eyelids, remained so, then went to the exit door, from which voices came and human figures appeared.
There was the old place of the flag on the door frame, we stood frozen for a minute against the light in the doors, then stuck the flag pole in its old place, pulled the double door behind us, stretched out our hand and demanded. "Give me the lock!" We waited to lower our heavy eyelids and said again.
- There was a lock on it, remove the lock.
Crushing their cigarette hut, we broke through the jackets, entered and stopped among the people whom we considered to be more or less local - our sister's son, the director who was considered our brother, his brothers, others. We looked at everyone one by one and said.
- You are a foreign people unfamiliar to this country, who brought you here?
The head of the economy, who is considered a brother to us, gave himself the right to be a mediator between us and the people, trying to make a fool of himself, he said.
- We didn't want to disturb you, we knew that we had to inform you about our decision.
We supported him and said.
- You are the first enemy of this country, let's not see you next time in our country. And we repeated. Who brought this enemy, this foreign people to this unknown country?
Our sister's child felt that we were going to explode on him and was preparing a response within himself. You, we said, then the ladder leading to the pole caught our attention. breaking through the jacketed men and this time receiving their bully sarcasm ("Who is this ox?"), we went and threw the ladder to the pole, we said to the Muradents boy standing there. "Get down. as you went up, so come down", we came back, as we passed, we answered the words and hostility of the jacketed men ("We are not oxen, we are bulls, know your herd well") and drove over our sister's child. beating our necks, we said: "You grew up on the shoulders of SS-SS-SS. we didn't know that we were raising a dog at someone else's door." It was the owner's anger, but he was putting us in the enemy's place, and yet our action was also a great owner - we pushed him aside holding the hood with one hand, we said: "Let my eyes not see you here, wrecker." We came back, while passing by we purposely and accidentally bumped into the head of farms, we said. "Tsmakut's fiery colt betrayed you undeservedly and got a farm. I appointed you a leader again, what did you promise from this poor cemetery?"
We went to the barn door and said: "We are dead, but not so dead - who are you?"
The so-called head of the economy tried to explain the situation with the heavy gesture of a leader: "There is a decision, it's a law, in this country there is no corresponding right...", but he was a drunkard and a joker, he was the one who provoked us the most.
- Come on, we shouted. you know that your appearance makes us crazy and every time you come, you are planted.
We turned to leather jackets.
- Who are you, sacrificer?
They had no voice, they had the quiet hostility of a murderer, only if there was a slight instruction from the side, we said.
- Did we enter your village to set fire to your house? Do you want to look at your mother, sacrificer? Why are you looking like an enemy?
The one born from us jumped from the pole, dropped in front of us, came out with proud dignity, measured us from head to toe, stood aside.
- You don't have a word anymore, said the one who was considered a brother. he is from your country and the son of Muradents Elya.
We had heavy memories of Muradents Elya, we shouted.
- Doesn't he have a name, doesn't he have a name? Have you come to laugh at our sadness? Two hundred cows were tied in this barn, two hundred calves left this door every May, there was life and joy here, what are you now like a predatory crow...
The so-called head of economy gave up hope, "Ah, well," he said, "two hundred", waved his hand, turned to leave, but his words made us furious.
- If you want the right one, two hundred and twenty. two hundred and twenty four, we found out, this flag will not be here forever.
5:00
Then we tied our naked steeds to the door of the old office, we ourselves went up to the balcony where the clerk of our age was, we muttered unrelated words and, thinking we had won, looked with hostility and disdain at the line of cars that crossed the ravine and reached the houses in front of us. In front of us was the bronze victory monument of the fallen boys at the door of the office, and we were facing the monument, and the similarity of our attitudes did not escape the sarcastic eye of the clerk. said:
- They were spinning the apparatus in their hands, can they take out your picture secretly? They made the statue from your picture.
We were modest, we said.
- No, huh... Forty-eight boys were killed, how could we have a part of one? They were saints, we concluded.
- They were sacrificed and sanctified, he said.
The cars stopped on the road, the people got off, talking and talking they went up to the old doors of Muradents. They walked around the house, opened the door and entered. We were tense and worried, the employee said.
- Are there any of them among the people?
The director's little truck came back towards the village, but we guessed their intention before he got there and heard the story. we whistled loudly and called with our ringing voice.
- What are you doing in that ruin, what do you want from that unfortunate ruin, hey!
They were talking among themselves, as if they were not going to answer, then the so-called director said among themselves. "Tell me, is this your question? What about you?" Frantically, we shouted, "Do it!" The director's car arrived. they were sent in a hurry. the driver, entering the store before the clerk, informed.
- They want to demolish. There are two good stones in the fireplace.
Facing the slope:
- Do you see us, we shouted. can you see well? this is our place. that house is our scene. It's our scene, not yours. We will stop here, and that house will be - get the passport out of this country.
The so-called director answered.
- The Lord is here, you are speechless.
- We will come and bring a black man to your head, we joked, the clerk and the driver in the store laughed, and we told the people in front of us again. we'll bring a black laugh to your head, get out of my sight and let's go...
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