About
"Šef, come on, adore my new immortal poetic creation." Almost the only listener and sufferer of Ivan's immortal compositions and volcanic contributions to poetry was his dog. If the Šef was a dog, which Ivan sometimes questioned. Šef raised his rapacious head and sofort lowered it again. The bone in front of him, already thoroughly attacked, was his poetic muse de jour.
Retired historian and neglected Homer in waiting, Ivan, has withdrawn in silence.. At least until the Šef finishes and then hides the bone somewhere unknown, as always. In this case, a giant piece, a long bone, the tibia of Silence.
Because…
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About a week ago, Ivan, in his eager study of the ancient magic of the Slavs, looked for a hidden corner in the forest. He burned dry bay leaves in front of a wooden statuette he had bought from a corner shop near the market because it reminded him of the deity Perun. As far as, of course, there were any testimonies about Perun. The main sources were Russian or German, and Ivan painstakingly translated them into a computer; the English only concerned themselves with their deities and elves.
Towards the end of the ritual, which Ivan had almost entirely recreated himself from crude sources, he felt a strange uneasiness. A terrible urge, will, to move, especially the legs. He stood upright with his stick, stomped on the lighter, put the idol in his small backpack - and it was already gone. It was getting dark.
Ivan had long-standing problems with his legs, walking and movement in general. There were periods when he did not leave the house for weeks. He had been walking a bit in the last few days, with a cane, he didn't need the walker so much anymore, but still, this was new.
It moved almost automatically. From the big toe, through the ankle to the hip, he twitched, seized by a kind of unpleasant rapture. Like wildly driving a walker around. He advanced further and further, catching his breath, stopping every couple of ten steps, and it drove him further. Something unconscious was stirring in him, probably the forces he had summoned in the forest. He was afraid. What did he wake up? Who did he summon?
He was moody; he was still driven, once by the heat in his body, the second by a tearing that required a walk. He walked for over an hour, as he hadn't in years. In the meantime, he sat down on the first chair nearby. He soon rushed off again, driven by the hum. He hadn't even drunk tea in the bar yet. The gods wanted something? What, what?
He trudged home. Lying down didn't work. He wasn't allowed to go out anymore. Night fell. He began to walk along the common balcony corridor. Up, down, up, down, home, bed, out, up, down. No amen.
At two or three o'clock in the morning, tired, half-mad, completely confused, loaded with painkillers and sedatives, he began to search for a religious, pagan, divine, hellish or any kind of solution through the search engine, Google. And found out:
• That he does not have any religious ecstasy, but nervous legs syndrome, which occurs at the age of about twelve percent of the population.
• That the gods, no matter which one, have nothing to do with it, but a lack of magnesium, iron and appropriate pills.
• That the only successful therapy for attacks is walking.
• That, despite his age, experience, and overflowing ego, he is still a gullible fool from time to time. In the following days, he acquired a couple of loads of magnesium, a few wagonloads of iron, pills prescribed by an understanding doctor, and made a daily pilgrimage through the old part of the city. The Šef, who was watching everything with unexpected indifference, received a massive bone, while Ivan stabbed him.
"This is the bone of Silence. Silence about what was, forever and ever, clear!"
He was answered by the bone lovers satisfied nibbling.
So it was time for a new commitment, which was required by new circumstances stemming from the past operation "Ivan's ego got a kick."
Because of them, Ivan went for a long walk again today, this time to the children's playground. In his karst solitude, this was for him the social event of the day…
Information has so far been rather unsuccessful. The old Proto-Slovene practice was still alive fifty years ago, but the records were strange, from the coastal area.
Ivan always got headaches when he used what he had learned and what he had not yet fully grasped; he was still changing. And with him came the Šef.
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Vitislav took his most expensive, shiny Japanese kaiji. The silent fury that permeated him gave him an idea. That he will teach Snow White to respect or fear him like most other children. Or mom, actually ma… stepmom, will teach them - how Louisette could scream and threaten and demand the police and call the lauyer when she was caught!
The Japanese mechanical kaiji toy was perfect for his hatred. With the guide, he directed her further towards Snežana. Snow White turned, took the kaiji, and after a few steps left it lying on the ground; she didn't even look at him or the toy again. Vitislav is even more Shefil.
He will teach her; he can do whatever he wants. He goes to his mother first, as always. He was just an innocent boy who loved his mommy (actually stepmother). All the while running to her and her camera, which was recording the entire field. The control was perfect.
"Vitislav! " she shouted and hugged him.
"Is everything okay? Is something wrong? Tell mom, mom will take care of it."
"Everything is fine. There are new kids here, we will play. Mom, do you have anything to drink? I'm hot."
She reached for the bottle and he surreptitiously turned off the camera. After a few sips, he returned the bottle to his mother/stepmother.
Ha, Snow White, just act like a princess in the spotlight. Soon she will be the center of a different kind of attention that will tarnish her forever.
iscovery of 10,000-year-old rock paintings made in Charama area of Kanker district, Chhattisgarh, India⁂⁂⁂
Ivan noticed that the Šef avoids looking at a certain part of the field. The dog had very strict instructions regarding behavior on the playground and he adhered to them. But a genetic factor also played a role; The Šef had very unusual genes. So it was very strange.
What the hell was there to drive him away? At first, he only saw a few children, but he slowly built up the picture.
One of them, a chestnut-haired boy surrounded by a mountain of toys, was a kind of center. Better, he was like a huge stone that every child avoided and showed a tepid and unconvincing respect for. He was practically alone in the crowd. A tense, obtrusively undressed (barely clothed) mother with a camera on one side and a babysitter looking like a Neanderthal on vacation on the other watched the playground intently, camera in hand.
The other mothers greeted Ivan good-naturedly. Here was a familiar figure. And the dog was a friendly extra security - they didn't know what kind of security the Šef could be.
A series of images flooded Ivan's mind as he watched the lone, well-endowed child languidly play with some sort of intricate mechanism. All of them showed female corpses, which, except for the first one, were all bloody and increasingly dismembered. Long fingers danced above them. He closed his eyes, his head starting to hurt. As he slowly opened his eyelids, the vision thankfully stopped. What was that?
Pošljite povratne informacije⁂⁂⁂
Time for action. Vitislav knew all about conducting the Kaiji lizard figure. And he had knowledge and power. Every day and every night, he practiced what he was taught by the security guard, the martial master. His childish hands were deceptively tender, and his fingers, thin and long, showed no strength in them; strength gained from all the punches and push-ups he regularly practiced in secret.
Vitislav drove the unique Japanese toy back to him, then directed it towards the fence. Along the sandpit and even to the hole in the playground fence, almost undetectable. A couple of days ago, he noticed it, as well as the fact that there is a sewer directly ahead of it.
He was happy doing it.. Kaiji went through the fence and now, now, now, yes! In the cave now lay an overpriced toy, proof. Vitislav looked around, but all eyes were fixed on Snežana, who was building some stupid castle on the sand.
"Beggars, you can't even buy an old kaiji!" he thought.
Louisette didn't notice either because she was showing off her new necklace to her envious peers.
Vitislav waited a little. It wasn't the first time for him. Then he ran to his mother. And secretly opened her camera again. His hands, his fingers, he was so skilled. The whole time, he was focused on Snow White and her group. They didn't notice anything.
Now! Vitislav's eyes filled with tears; he was good at it.
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Ivan watched a small boy in a noble dress. Even when he was playing, he was without joy. The boy was looking at the black-haired girl a few feet away, who was in the center of the group. The boy was giving the impression…wrong. There… there was no happiness in him. The boy was twirling something in his hands, looking towards the fence and back. His face was tense, not childish. Pob then ran to his mother, a poorly dressed sex worker. He pressed a wet kiss to her that worked; immediately the drama began.
"Tell your thieving daughter to return my son's toy and publicly apologize! The toy is unique, from Japan!" Luisette was on fire.
"Apologise for what? Because he doesn't want to play with such a beautiful offspring of yours?" Snow White's mother did not give in.
Mothers are not to be trifled with. Ivan figured this out a long time ago. Both mothers were now on a fighting foot; a no-go area for anyone who would naively try to appease them.
"She stole a toy, a toy made only in Japan and worth thousands! I have proof! All recorded! Security guard! Where did she hide it? Where is the toy?!"
A bald, stocky man with a tired expression, pensioner Franci, appeared and tried to calm the scene. No effect. Unsuccessful. The boy's mother went on the offensive with the help of her giant nanny; it echoed throughout the field. A circle was formed; no one was watching the children in question. The boy peered from behind his mother, expressionless. The girl stood there, confused, confused, and surprised.
Ivan liked the girl. The Šef too.
The boy's mother, Louisette, was pointing at the camera screen. The one where the girl picked up the toy and loudly demanded retribution from the black-haired vivacity.
Support for Louisetta was lukewarm. Mothers, otherwise so wild when it came to their children, seemed to know her. And not with affection.
But public humiliation, along with who knows what - Louisette was on the phone all the time like a maniac - was inexorably approaching Snežana. The young girl will be written down, her little soul crushed; an innocence to be destroyed by a monster in the making, Ivan thought. The vision of the boy's future troubled him; Ivan understood that he only saw her briefly, but she was monstrous. And those pale fingers… So that the girl wouldn't…
The Šef pushed him. Yes, the dog pushed his master…toward the group. A cave-like environment appeared in Ivan's head. The Šef found something.
"We'll talk about who can push who," Ivan muttered to the Chief and headed towards the group.
"Ladies, may I suggest something? Something to get to the end of this?" Ivan was breathless. He was old.
" What do you suggest, Ivan?" The security guard knew him. Sometimes they secretly smoked a nicotine or two. Or good weed.
"My dog is also a tracking dog. If you give us a sniff of this young man's things, anything, he can search and maybe find something.'
"Yes, old man," shouted the boy. His name was Vitislav, Ivan found out, and ordered the babysitter to offer the Šef an unopened toy in the box. The Šef looked at Ivan:
"Who's kidding who?" and Ivan told him in his mind to sniff anyway, hoped the dog would listen. The Šef smelled a completely useless scent, avoided the little rattler and sniffed towards the edge of the field. They ended up in a hole in the fence.
"How do you get to the other side?" Ivan asked, and they showed him. It was a difficult test with a stick, but it was possible.
Then it was easy, at least for the Šef, who could smell what the Moon had for breakfast and the Sun for lunch. The security guard found a stick long enough to reach the toy in the sewer and they pulled it out in all its muddy glory.
And threw her, without much respect, at Louisetta's feet. It didn't take a genius to figure out how a toy could end up where it did. No one went out and came back during this time, and only one person had the apparatus for operating the toy - a little date. Lousette, however, continued and escalated; her intelligence was inversely proportional to her sexiness.
"I see you discovered her. Now for a public apology, little thief, on your knees! Bow down to my Vitislav, the victim of your crime, and ask for his forgiveness!" This was too much for everyone. Even for some lukewarm Louisiette allies. It was obvious that someone had directed the toy into the sewer using a mechanical control. And that someone can only be her son, Vitislav.
"Franci, can you check the timestamps on the camera?" Ivan also knew how to play.
"Kripl, don't mess with us. You will pay!" Vitislav was aggressive, but he ran into the wrong person.
"And you don't play with what you have no idea about, kid." Ivan looked into his eyes and, after blinking a few times, Vitislav's blue eyes closed, and his head was bent down again, in the learned position.
"Ma'am, all the timelines in your camera are manipulated, altered, some are wrong. This is not proof, this is something else…!" Even Franci, who was otherwise worried about this extra income, had had enough. Louisette tried unsuccessfully to pry the camera from his hands. Franci was retired, but brave enough to hold the camera.
"We will handle the whole matter according to our rules. Until then, Lady Lousiette, you and yours should find another place. This is a playground with clear rules." Franco's face was unconditional.
"You'll pay for it!" Vitislav whispered to Ivan as he passed him. The Šef nodded. And showed his artillery of teeth and drooled at us. Vitislav peed his underpants.
"Mommy, I'm being touched and groped." The pathological little liar was back on the war footing.
But the mother couldn't do anything either, because there were thousands of witnesses who only saw the nice old man talking to the little boy at a decent distance. Vitislav insisted.
"Close them all. If not, you are not my mother. You're just another mom. Stepmom, wiggle, I want that! He groped me, call the police, or you're not a mother, because you're not a real mother," he shouted in a thin, unpleasant voice.
Even Lousiette had had enough. She grabbed him by the neck, swung his bum twice, and dragged him to a limousine waiting outside the playground. Vitislav fell silent and stared blankly at his stepmother. No words, cold. He fell silent, as if focused now on this new, deep-cut object of hatred…
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His mother left him, his stepmother hit him in front of everyone, took away his respect. He will punish both. Both of them. The icy iron, the decision, was born, fell into him, spread, dissipated through the veins and became a part of Vitislav. The decision…he must punish the women…he closed his hands and his long, refined fingers.
"Go, Vitislav, leave these farmers. Don't look at the bad men. Daddy will deal with them. We will buy our own playground and you will love it." With this magnificent statement from the surgically treated blonde, the limousine swallowed the entire unpleasant company up.
.⁂⁂⁂
A fleeting image of bloody hands, small hands, and long red fingers, red drops on it, struck Ivan, who was still looking at him,. Ivan wiped his eyes. The scene swiftly disappeared … Same as those three shadows and the cave, claw, nightmare.
"Yes," thought Ivan, "a nice springboard for the creation of a future serial killer, his environment, and upbringing…"
Snow White's mother approached him, still blushing bellicosely.
"Here hon, my card, call me anytime. Thank you!"
Snow White hugged the Šef. "He saved me, Mom. What for him?"
Snežana's mother, Ariana, it said on the card, gave Ivan several bills.
"This is for your dog, for both of you. Welcome to our home anytime."
"Ma'am! Please!" Ivan had to warn her.
"If you love your child, please do not step onto this playground or any other playground where this … boy appears. He… will honor evil and will end up the worse way."
Ariana stared into his eyes.
"My mother was a gypsy, a fortune teller. A con artist, of course. But not at home. And we talked, I know something about these things. I will do as you say. Goodbye Ivan, goodbye Šef."
Ivan relaxed. Five corpses, he could still see them in his mind, but Snow White was not among them.
It was all he could do. In the public, that is.
Ariana drove away. Ivan and Sef waved at the car. The Šef looked at Ivan. Ivan looked at the Šef. And surrendered.
The Šef got into the habit that evening, much to the dismay of Ivan's bank account, that he liked grilled meat.
The new walker will have to wait.
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But not everyone waited.
After four days, the media was full of the tragedy that had happened — and in such a perfect family. The mother, quite by chance, got tangled in the carpet at the top of the reception room stairs, fell down them and broke her neck - dead on the spot. In the presence of her child!! Poor boy, poor boy, a witness to a tragedy he cannot even fathom!
Images of Vitislav white faced, walking behind his mother's coffin, with tears running down his cheeks, were everywhere. Louisette left him with everything she had. Such a virtuous mother, such a decent son. What a tragedy.
The photogenic grieving toddler, walking in an impeccable black outfit in a funeral procession, was on the front pages of reports, news, newspapers, and magazines.
Always with hands, politely, sadly clasped in the waistcoat.
Those tiny, child hands, with long, delicate fingers…
