Eleonora Harutyunyan's Stories
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“Yoy, where is my jewelry?” asked my mother.
Yoy was how Mom gently called me when I was a child. I started my story with Mom's jewelry, as I adored wearing all kinds of rings, necklaces, earrings, bracelets and also mother's high-heeled shoes in my childhood. After putting on all these things, I would go outside and run around. Can you imagine me running in high-heeled shoes? Right, it is really difficult to imagine such a thing, but try to, and you will find me lying on the ground, having hurt some parts of my body, crying heavy tears.
“Mom, I have hurt my leg, it's bleeding, Mom.”
Then many tears followed…
I ran and ran and ran until I once noticed the tears were gone, there were no more high-heeled shoes, rings, bracelets and bleeding hurt legs.
Wrote at 14 years old age
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“A conversation with no time” (Love Stories)
The teacher said, “You are now in the 7 th form, It's time to fell in love. What are you laughing at Armine and Ella?”
I told her that we are not laughing. Armine told Ella that the teacher is speaking about it since 5 th form and that they are tired of listening the same thing all the time. She said, “I wonder what is she going to talk about on the 8 th form?”
We could hardly spend that lesson. The next lesson was Russian language, when I opened the book there was also written about love.
When we told the lesson, this teacher started to talk about the love too.
I thought, “What is this like everyone is talking about love?”
It was really boring for me and I was almost sleeping when suddenly teacher started to praise me, I woke up and noticed that everyone is looking at me.
Well, I don't know why I wrote all this, I guess I am trying to say that all my classmates aren't enough grown-up to fell in love. No one is in love and It's boring for us when teachers are talking about love.
Wrote at 13 years old age
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I can't be fully sincere. I often lie mostly at school and everywhere… I try a lot to do things opposite to those my classmates do but I never succeed to.
I paint during the classes. I only study the subjects I like. I am quick-tempered though one cannot guess I am so judging from my appearance. I am always getting offended but I forgive those who are sorry for their deeds towards me. I never refuse to help when asked to. I like being surrounded by friends and hate when they try to hurt me.
I don't like literal speech, the jargon either. But I have to learn the latter to be able to understand my classmates. I never try to look a good girl, let people decide for them whether I am good or bad.
Sometimes I can't tell what kind of person I am- haven't still analyzed me. I know one thing for sure: I don't like talking about myself so this is all about me.
Wrote at 14 years old age
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I was four years old, when we moved to another house. Our new house was near a military division.
I liked it very much; it was very nice there. There were many trees and a little garden where I used to play.
Only cries and funeral music disturbed the noon stillness.
Mother was coming out, to see what had happened: it was the funeral of a soldier.
Once at night I woke up because of noise. They said a soldier had run away to home. I was little and couldn't understand why they were so angry, when a soldier came back to his home. I didn't understand the difference of running away and leaving.
Once my mother and I were going to the shop and saw, how they were taking soldiers to war. The young men even didn't manage to say goodbye to their parents.
The car drove away as fast as the wind and the parents couldn't reach it. The mothers were still crying and weeping for their sons.
I raised my head in fear. My mother was crying too.
“Mom, what's wrong?”
“Nothing”.
“Then why is that woman crying?”
“Because they took her son.”
“Where to?”
“To the war.”
“Is it a bad place?”
“Yes.”
“Will they take me too?”
“No. They only take boys”, my mother said and took me in her arms.
Mother bought me a candy at the shop and I forgot what I had seen a few minutes before. When I became a bit older I began to understand where they were taking the soldiers, and why their mothers were crying. I can't believe that I've seen all that…
The military division is still there, and mothers see off their boys, often with drums and zurna, because the war is over.
…It's good, that I was small then, and don't remember many things.
Wrote at 14 years old age
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I was already at the 6th form, it was the lesson of Mathematics. The sun was shining and my hand was already tired of writing that’s why I stopped writing looked out of the window. The sun was shining and the sky was so blue. I tried to breathe the fresh air of the spring but it was only the dusty air of my classroom. I closed my eyes and imagine how beautiful it is in my garden now. Then the view of my garden disappeared when my teacher said with the voice of Maria Kisilyova (the reporter of the “Weak Circle” TV show), “Eleonora please repeat what I have just told.”
Fortunately I have heard the last phrase she had told and I repeated it immediately. She said okey, though she knew that I wasn’t listening to her. I started to solve that awful problem again, but I found the page of my claims and started to read the claims and suddenly a brilliant idea came to me. The teacher wasn’t looking at me, and I took a piece of paper and started to write. When I finished I throw out the page of claims because I had written another thing about “It’s hard to be a pupil”. The bell rang and I went out to enjoy the beautiful spring day.
Wrote at 13 years old age
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I was waiting for my friends outside. They were late again. I decided to have a seat after a ten-minute walk up and down. A boy stood near me licking an ice-cream. He threw looks at the ice-cream every time he licked it as if trying to make it stop from melting.
After all I couldn't stand silent; I decided to talk to him.
“Hello.”
For a while the boy stood still, stopped eating the ice-cream as if trying to confirm for himself I had greeted him.
“Hello”, I said again.
“Hello”, he said after giving my hello a due thought.
“What's your name?”
“Taron.”
“How old are you, Taron?”
“…eight.”
“Do you study at our school?”
“I don't go to school.”
“Perhaps, you will start your studies next year.”
“M ...m ...m, I don't know. One day I will surely attend school.”
“Why don't you go to school now? Do you have a mother, father...?” I asked him full of curiosity paying no attention to his feelings.
“I have.”
“Do they work?”
“Yeah…their work is to be refugees. Father is refugee for a long time already, he cannot find a job.”
“What do you mean by saying a refugee's work?”
“It means to live in displacement, in a ruined building, to wear dirty clothes. It means to bear all these things and not get money for it. That‘s the reason I don't go to school. I believe I can attend classes when father finds a job.”
He gazed at the ice-cream for a while, took it to his mouth to lick but then stopped. He started crying, the tears fell on the ice-cream he had been eating some minutes ago.
“Look, you made him sad”, I thought to myself. “Now think of something joyful to change the situation.”
I was about to talk about Winnie the Pooh with Taron when my friends arrived to take me to cafe and I was made to leave. I was going to enjoy my time while Taron… What will become of him? Will he go to school? I know one thing for sure. He will go on eating his ice-cream but in a much sadder mood thanks to me.
Wrote at 14 years old age
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Isn't the sunset so beautiful? Suddenly, just by looking at the sky, you get all these different feelings. Admiration, and fear for tomorrow, and freshness, and joy. If I were a singer, I would definitely dedicate one song to the sunset, so that the wind would carry it for all to hear. But, unfortunately, I do not sing as I would ruin everything. Luckily, I have pen and paper which allows me to put my feelings onto paper for the reader. I could have drawn the scenery on this paper, but wouldn't it be better if you yourself would open your window, or go outside of the house and watch the sunset?
In that case, you would picture the scenery better than me. And then I would write about something else. But not today, because today I am too amazed by the sunset.
Wrote at 12 years old age
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“I do not want to play the role of Argishtie, I am a girl” (People understand me not)
Have you ever heard nine form students taking part in a school performance?
OK, even if you have heard about it, it doesn’t change anything. I only want to say that now people do not do such kind of things.
Did you get what I mean? Now, please, try to explain it to our young teacher of history.
“We have a performance on Tuesday.”
“Oh, no!”
“Why no?”
“It’s a shame, we won’t do it”, said Ashot.
“But I have already given roles to everyone.”
“Noo!”
“And I have the role of king Argishtie”, I added in a displeased tone.
“That role is not that bad, I think”, my teacher got surprised.
“OK, even if it is a good role, I can’t play it, because I do not look like king Argishtie.”
“What makes you think you do not?”
“Firstly, I am a girl, secondly the role…”, But I stopped here. I did not have the courage to say the role was too long. I felt shameful.
“Girl, boy… it’s all the same. The most important thing is that you play your part well. OK?”
Her words made me happy; they meant that she understood me, that she was going to give me another role.
“OK, let’s start our rehearsal. Start king Argishtie.”
“No!” Alas, she didn’t give my role to anyone else. I knew she wouldn’t.
I wrote so much. I wish my teacher read my story and tried to understand me.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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The bright colors faded and people’s eyes stopped shining when we entered Narek’s place. The noise from outside weakened and then completely disappeared as we closed the door. I could only hear Narek’s gasp, which depressed me more than his mother’s sob.
There was a coffin in the middle of the room. My legs started trembling and face grew pale when I saw it.
“Are you cold?” Armen asked.
I nodded. I wasn’t really cold, but it was hard for me to realize that the man in the coffin was dead. He seemed to be sleeping. Maybe, this is because I had been watching him for a long time. For a moment, I saw him move his eyes. I turned my frightened look away from him to the wall.
“What’s wrong?”
“All is fine, when are we leaving?”
“Wait a moment, sit down.”
“OK.”
And as luck would have it, the only vacant place was near the coffin. I moved trembling to the chair, pulled it aside and took a sit, not far from the deadman.
“Let’s leave, Armen.”
Armen was talking to Narek and didn’t hear what I said. I was getting nervous.
“Com on, let’s go.”
He did not hear me.
“I am leaving.”
He did not hear me again. I turned and ran out. I wanted to escape not to feel that terrible smell.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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I hadn’t seen Egypt for ages, that’s why I decided to spend my holidays there.
I’m already in Egypt. I can’t believe my eyes.
Near the pyramids, instead of desert here are huge flowers, which remind me roses.
I asked my Egyptian friend.
“Where are these flowers from?”
“Two years ago huge seeds from Mars fell on the Earth; we thought it was an asteroid.
But then we understood that those were seeds. We water them once a year.”
“Interesting.”
I went to the flowers. They didn’t smell. They were huge.
Few hours later I sat on the stem and began to draw the flowers.
“Oh, be careful”, -said the voice.
I looked around, but there wasn’t anyone there.
“Who said that?” I asked.
“The one you’re sitting on.”
“The flower?”
“Who else?”
“I have never heard a talking flower before.”
“I’m not like other flowers.”
“I know. What’s your name?”
“I’ve got no name. But what kind of name would match me?”
“Rose”
“What’s a rose?”
“Rose is a beautiful flower, but it has disappeared.”
“It’s so sad. But I like the name... Rose. What was it like, can you draw it?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, to remember what it was like. When I finished, Rose said.
“Was it big?”
“No, but it had a nice smell.”
Rose bowed her head and said.
“Am I nice?”
“Oh, of course you are, but...”
“But what?”
“Those roses were better, but we didn’t understand it till we lost them.”
And both of us got silent, because we didn’t know what to talk about.
“Where am I?”
“You are in Egypt.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
And I began to tell about Egypt, changing some legends, because I didn’t know them.
When I finished, Rose looked around in surprise.
“This is such an interesting place...”
So I spent all my holidays with Rose. When I had to come back, I took Rose with me.
Rose was happy, that we would be together.
Now she is in my garden.
“Where am I now?” asked Rose.
“You are in Armenia.”
“You told me, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m cold. It’s cold here.”
‘Well, this is not Egypt.”
I brought a warm scarf for the Rose and saw that some petals were missing. First I didn’t pay any attention to that but then I noticed Rose wasn’t talking to me at all.
Her petals were falling more and more, day by day.
One day I said to Rose.
“I must go.”
“Where to?”
“To London, I have a lot of work to do.”
“When will you come back?”
“Tomorrow. My friends will look after you.”
“Thanks, I don’t need that.”
“OK.” I said closing the door.
I came back the next day. When I opened the door, I saw my Rose fallen on the ground, all of her petals spread around her except one. I ran up to her.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m cold, I’m weak.”
“We will heal you.”
“No, you can’t.” said Rose in despair.
“Don’t say that!”
“You-people are amazing creatures, you kill the one you love, then you weep.”
“Forgive me.” I said.
“You are my friend; of course I’ll forgive you.”
It was her last word. Her last petal fell down and I lost my friend.
Wrote at 13 years old age
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“They hate me, they don’t understand me, adults put on airs, the younger don’t respect the elder, and people don’t want to speak to one another. Have we really gone so far? If it is so, then this is the end of the world.”
“Vardan,” I interrupted the thoughts of my friend, and continued in his voice, “are you so old, that you see the world in grey colors.”
“I am a realist.”
“People call you pessimists.”
“You can make a mock of me, but the end of the world is close,” he said and looked at me like an old man (by the way he is fifteen).
Truly, I felt very bad of that glance. But who knows, maybe he is right.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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“Why don’t you stop murmuring under my ears?”
“Why? Do I say anything when you murmur and grumble?”
“Don’t you? You aren’t behaving like a good friend at all.”
“Do you think you are behaving better?”
“Maybe no, but I never tire you with my problems.”
“Your problems are nothing as compared with mine. You have just had an argument with your friend and that is all. And I have got a satisfactory mark from my English test.”
“It is not a serious problem; I have a satisfactory mark too.”
“Do you want to say that if you get a SAT others should also be getting this mark?”
“We have all made many mistakes. You would receive better mark if you had prepared well. I have, by the way, had an argument with a friend and that is quite a more serious problem than your satisfactory mark… I should go.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
“Then how can I solve my problems?”
“Study English.”
“Eh, I don’t want to speak to you any more.”
“Just don’t,” I replied and left.
I met another friend on my way, with whom I had also had an argument that day. He looked at me attentively for a long time and did not greet me.
“It was a bad day,” I thought to myself and went to another friend of mine’s place.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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“It's cold in school” (The school)
"Ella wake up, you'll be late."
I opened my eyes reluctantly.
It would have been better not to open my eyes. It was very dark outside. If it is dark outside then in the school it will be dark and cold too, because sunshine never gets there.
I looked at the clock, it was 8:30 a.m. (take into consideration that I usually wake up at 1:00 p.m., and you will understand that it was too early).
"Mom, look what disgusting weather."
"Enough! Want it or not you must go to school. Your teacher called and asked you to come to school today because officials are coming."
"OK."
I quickly dressed and went outside. I hardly reached the school, because I was half- asleep. It turned out that our clock was slow and I arrived for the second class. When I came in, the headmaster got angry with me.
"Why are you late?"
I muttered something and went into the classroom. There were six students at class, all with red noses. Soon my nose was red too. I apologized to my teacher for being late and sat on my cold chair. My teacher came in with a thermometer in her hands and said:
"It's eight degrees in the school, children. If officials come, you tell them that, you tell the truth." I was cold before that but when I knew that it was eight degrees in the school I began to shiver more vigorously.
"It's cold," I said.
"Finally you noticed," said the student who was sitting on a soft pillow in order to be less cold.
When I saw her I remembered the pillow under my head. My duvet, my warm soft pillow. I was in heaven before my hand touched the cold table. My dreams about pillow and duvet disappeared at once. I took my pen and began to write the teacher's task, which I couldn't understand.
It seemed that cold had got to my gray cells too.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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