A fragmented Tale.., an old..Rp/story Of mine

[Eon Night]

THE AK-47 has its own, typical rumor. You would never mistakenly assign that noise to any other machine gun, if you ever had the luck of hearing it shoot even once!

It was February the sixteenth when Grigory Petrov saw that huge shadow for the first time. Standing there, in the darkness, far away in the wide open sea, the first thing it brought in mind was a big swimming coffin, rather than a white winged horse of hope.

-Shut up!! You moron, I said you don’t have to push like that! You want me to blow you away?-

Gregory looked curious around, it was dusk. The disappointed sun had gone down, for it didn’t want to see anymore.

No, it didn’t want to see anymore kids tossing grenades around as if they were baseballs
Teenagers with semi-automatic machine guns, robbing old women-- which until yesterday had filled their very stomachs with all sorts of sweets and food lovely prepared with low quality ingredients, the best you can find in such poor countries –and shamelessly laughing while they did that.

He looked around again, it was dark, the tired sun had gone to sleep and I bet that its nightmares would be even more tonight

Their amount should be around eight hundred. Eight hundred in a small and abandoned bay, almost one above the other. Eight hundred, but they would have to pay even for the unborn children! Yes the price was the same, whole year’s earnings for a place in that Ship. That ship would bring ‘em in the Promised Land.
The price was the same, be that that you had seen the daylight a thousand times, or not even once.

And their white winged horse waited patiently, hidden from the night’s mantel. A white winged horse with a black aura
..But it would bring ‘em in the Promised Land.

Where there was no hunger. Where people were all for the liberty of speech and thought. Where people were sensible and comprehensive, where the politicians were all honest, where there was no oppression of thoughts, and where no one tried to bring others down with used and abused excuses...

Gregory, the fifteen years Old Russian felt happy …a new life was about to start, freedom and no pain

And while he was dreaming, with his eyes wide open , the strong slap of reality brought him back in that small and abandoned bay with other eight hundred people . Gregory fell on the ground with an intense pain growing stronger on the right side of his head

-Moron, I told you not to push like that –

Weapons are only as evil as the man that uses ‘em. Weapons are only as precise as the man that shoots with ‘em .
The Ak-47, Russian production, has a very characteristic rumor when it shoots in the air without reaching anyone!

Voices from somewhere
Song pieces …

When dreaming I'm guided to another world
Time and time again
At sunrise I fight to stay asleep
'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place
'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape
From the life I live when I'm awake
So let's go there …
Let's make our escape

He opened slowly his eyes; his hand searched instinctively for his the usual cigarette. Lighter noise and a small flame, and after that a deep drag. He looked indifferently around, not out of curiosity but out of boredom. A small sort of room filled with dry, yellow, hay. In front of him a bunch of people, they were the responsible for that boring noise they called a song.

Grigory: All you fly mothers. Can’t you do anything besides complaining?

The four men stopped for an instant--- they were gypsies, those life and nature loving vagabonds that refuse to live in the hypocrisy of the modern life and choose to be free in the spirit and mind— than ignored the expressionless young man with white hair , and continued their song…

Can you take me Higher?
To a place where blind men see
Can you take me Higher?
To a place with golden streets..

Up high I feel like I'm alive for the very first time
Set up high I'm strong enough to take these dreams
And make them mine

The russian shook his head and looked around, there he was that curious young man he wanted to follow, the Young wanderer. He was training, his feet hung out of the wide opened “door” , he lifted his upper body up with his hands behind the neck , when he was in the sitting position he would stop for some instants and watch , lost in thoughts , out of the door .

Grigory threw an indifferent look outside; they were running through a wide open field filled with green grass and some yellow flowers here and there,
A big horde of horses were running at their side ….

They were inside a wares-transport-train


Chapter Two: Ones reasons for his actions

When did all this start ?
When will all this end ?
Who's got my back now? When all we have left is deceptive and disconnected.
So what is the truth now?

I started this long trip holding my dreams in my shoulders , I was just a kid than .
I remember:

The dark, cold river was flowing ten paces away; it grumbled, lapped against the hollow clay banks and raced on swiftly towards the far-away sea. Close to the bank there was the dark blur of a big barge, which the ferrymen called “karbos”.Far away on the further bank, lights, dying down and flickering up again, zigzagged like little snakes; they were burning last year's grass. And beyond the little snakes there was darkness again. It was damp and cold. . . .
There was where I laid, near that river, with my eyes closed and my body aching. Only fifteen and yet beaten …
Laying there realising what was it that was killing me, my love. Can someone give up on his feelings only because of fear?
Some people think they have the right to own everything, and they don’t even want to compete about it. They just try to low blow everyone and everything that hinders them in their goal, no fair competition.
There I laid, beaten and bruised because I had the courage to say “I do “
A man is not another man’s property ….
No she was not his property; she was a human being with emotions and hopes. A young human being leading a prisonous life only because some snotty snob young man with all the power in this village had claimed her, his property.

We loved each other in the first instant we saw each other; it was a thunderstrike coming from a cloudless sky!
And yet, after a sunny day there are three filled with stormy weather…
And there I laid, bruised and beaten. …
Everyone in the village would blame me for their misfortune. I had suddenly no friends no more. He had claimed that there would be nothing more in the stores until I left the country; he had claimed that if she would not be his, than no one would have her.
What is the price you are willing to pay for your feelings, your beliefs?
….I felt the taste of blood in my mouth, people passed by but no one had the courage to stop and aid me in my day of need …
They would all shake their heads and think that it was my fault. My fault? Because I love? because I was willing to fight for what I believed in , even if they were a dozen that night , and I stood there alone ?
Desperate and need of help I lied there, with everyone too afraid to help…
But than …something warm and wet caressed my face, over and over again until the tired and wounded eyes decided that they were too curious to stand wide shut !

A dog ! A wolf ? Alone?
The wolf walks alone, the difference between a dog and a wolf is a slavery mark around the neck!
Yes, sometimes in this life a wolf is a way better friend than a human being. I called Him Kazaan , The hope . he brought back my belief , he helped me to stand up again , he feeded me when I couldn’t move .
He filled my heart with hope again.
I left a village and a love behind , with rage-filled heart but with an ideal , to become stronger , strong enough to strand up for my ideas , for my feelings
…for the way I speak and act …
And I know she will be there, the tear signs on her cheeks are my proof.
Love is my strength, and the streets are my home since very very long time. I have fought in them before
I’ve been hungry in them before, sleepless waiting for the new day to come.
The streets are my home, and a street fight is daily routine, in all its ways. I am still alive after all these years aren’t I? That means I have survived.
I have met Snobs but I also have met friends, this is but a single chapter in this life, and there will be no one that will lay me down so easily. For I have something great to fight for. For I am no more fifteen …
Wait for me, challengers, I promise you the fight of your life.

Grigory: hey, Animan will you keep you fleabag away from me? Ah and will you freakin' stop training? You’ll lose anyway, so what the freak!

Lupus looked around, as if someone had slapped him straight in the face, a cold reality shower
Kazaan, his old husky friend stood near the white haired Russian, growling furiously while the bunch of gypsies continued their melodic song.

“…The difference between try and triumph is a little umph…”

Grigory: ahhh shut the freak up, just take this brain dead dog away from me, he’s tryin’ to drink my vodka. Ah and you know what, don’t Bust my Bills …

Lupus shook his head, and continued his pull ups. They were there, Nova Scotia, the new chapter of his life. It had yet to be written, and he was sure that there would be a lot of challenges in front of him …
But he was sure he would come out richer in the end...In one way or the other

[Eon Night]

this place is hollow..
let me know when you people are around again