Gor Baghdasaryan's Stories
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“About Myself” (About Me)
I have a strange character, at least I myself fail to understand what I want and why. I spend most of my time thinking about various things. I speak little as life has taught me a lesson- much speaking causes troubles. I can say I am more a negative person than a positive one. I frequently get angry, mostly about crazy things. I communicate little; I prefer staying alone from time to time. My mood changes very often, but I prefer some neutral states of mind, when I am neither sad, nor joyful. I have no definite image or style which may be accounted for by the fact I am changeable. Instead, I like studying others' way of life.
My hobby is guessing what others think of but never take the courage to say it aloud. Sometimes I manage to do this. I, on the contrary try to conceal my thoughts from others.
I like trying new things in all spheres of life, merely all. Sometimes the newly tried things just become part and parcel of my life, form a small cell of the routine.
Making friends is not an easy task for me as well as the separation from people. I like making silly jokes and self applauding fervently to these jokes. I don't conceal my joy when I make a successful speech.
I also like analyzing various situations. That's all.
It is impossible to change all of these features in a day. I don't know: it is difficult to analyze myself.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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“Do you know that we'll miss you?” asked mom, looking at me. “Don't worry, mom,” I replied for the hundredth time.
I looked at the others. Dad was silent but I could feel his hand on my shoulder all the time. Moush and Hon stood silently beside him. Hon's head was against Moush's arm, his eyes looked down. It seemed he wanted to tell me something to make me feel better but words wouldn't come out. Moush looked somewhere, blowing his nose from time to time.
“We'll miss you a lot, dear. We will be waiting for you impatiently,” repeated mom.
“You'd better go home, mom. Hon and Moush want to sleep”. I knew they would not leave and there was a lot of time to wait.
“Take care of yourself,” said dad, trying to sound relaxed, hiding his anxiety. “Don't worry,” I answered.
At last Hon looked up at me. He always looks at people this way: without a smile on his face, silently, as if he were a grown-up. Sometimes, it seems to me that it is not Hon, but somebody else standing in front of me. That day he looked the same way. He winked but I was the only person to notice this.
Moush looked at me and smiled. He looked like mom. She looked at me all the time and did not stop smiling.
“It's time for me to go,” I said.
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
“Write letters.”
“I will.”
“We'll miss you.”
I retreated, as if having done something bad.
“You better go,” I said once more.
They didn't say a word. I turned back and walked away. Four of them, the dearest people to me, stood behind me. Hon was looking down, Moush was looking somewhere, dad was stroking Hon's head silently, mom was looking at me, smiling.
The hall was empty. I walked down it calmly, feeling their looks on my back. I knew they were waiting for me to wave to them. For the first time in my life, I understood that they would be waiting for me impatiently, that they would be counting each single day in my absence.
I didn't turn any more. I couldn't smile and they were surely waiting for it.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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Books lay in disarray on the floor of the empty room. We were busy repainting the walls of our house. We were newcomers but knew nearly all the neighbors by face. To tell the truth, that was not too hard a thing to do. Our apartment was on the ground floor with an open balcony. Our curious neighbors took advantage of the fact and often peeped in to see what we were busy with.
“Have they added anything new today?” an old woman asked and took a seat near the others. They had even put a long bench under the balcony to be able to follow every step of ours and analyze whatever we did.
“Nothing new, I think,” answered another old lady, who was cleaning green beans and placing them in a pan full of water next to her knees. “They are just painting walls over there”. “Are they?” asked the newcomer.
I glanced around and caught some tension in the eyes of the workers. Judge for yourself, is it pleasant to work knowing that you are being watched, and having people discuss whatever you do? “I wonder why they paint the walls white,” mumbled an old woman sipping her coffee. “Green, dark red, but never white. White is not for walls.”
My father blushed in anger but didn't utter a word. He is a patient man.
“Renovations, renovations!!” exclaimed an old man coming out of our exit. “The renovation has started and I wasn't told, what a shame!”
In minute he was gone but then was back again with some buddies of his. They hadn't forgotten to bring the backgammon, a couple of chairs and a table. “Hi, everybody,” cried one of the old men, waving at us. Old men are different; they don't just sit like the old ladies do. They take active participation in all the repairs -- sharing opinions, giving advice, talking directly to the workers, the main characters in the spectacle.
“So, you are painting the walls today? You'd better asked for advice, we may be of help,” said an old man shaking the backgammon dices in his fist.
“Oh, you are so kind,” mumbled one of the workers to himself but he only smiled to the old man in response.
“I think you don't hold the brush the right way,” cried one of the old men in a high tone.
“Thanks a lot, I think I do things the right way,” answered the house painter, smiling.
“The right way, hmm…,” smiled the adviser in a self-contained manner.
The advice sessions followed one another until the evening. The best thing about old people is the fact that they go to bed early. It is only after their departure that we could take a breath.
“I'll move from this flat as soon as an opportunity arises. These people think they have come to watch a performance which we are the main actors of”, father said.
“We are fish in an aquarium with fish for them would say,” mother added gloomily.
I was about to say that a zoo was the most suitable description for the situation, but the sudden sight of a stranger standing in the room scared me to death. He gazed at the walls with a master's calm look, and then added quietly but in an even tone, “So, you are renovating,” he said. No one answered. We were horrified. “Oh, please don't answer. I know everything. You look tired,” continued the newcomer and smiled. No response followed.
“I knew it, I knew it sirs. I have fish… just caught them. Do you want some? It's cheap, 100 drams each.” He showed us the product and continued talking “Quite the wrong idea about the oven. Instead of switching it on to cook this delicious fish, you are sitting on it.”
Our cries full of indignation stopped the man from talking more and he left by the same way he had came, i.e. the balcony.
Similar stories accompanied our work throughout the renovation. We still live in the flat but father closed the balcony. We barely talked father out of concreting the windows shut.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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“What's up there, out?”
“Do you want me to tell everything from the very beginning?”
“Tell.”
Sam looked at his brothers.
“Well talk then”, repeated Aram , taking his seat on the bed.
“I have an exam tomorrow.”
“Are you afraid?” asked Vahan swinging.
“No, I am not afraid.”
Aram looked down and started painting something on the blanket with his fingers trying to imitate the pattern. Vahan pulled his chair nearer to his brother's bed.
“What then?” he asked.
“Then, I think I will go for a walk with others”, said Sam scratching his head.
“A walk with your friends?”
“Yeah, with my classmates.”
“Are they clever?” asked Aram by raising his head.
“Who? You mean my friends?”
“Yes, just them.”
“Sure, all of them are clever.”
Aram smiled joyfully as if having heard something very important. Then he pulled his toy cars nearer to play.
Vahan looked at him, but said nothing. For a minute nobody said a word. Sam and Vahan looked at Aram driving his car over the blanket.
“You should once invite them all to our place for us to get to know them too”, said Vahan by moving the wheelchair.
“I will.”
“When will you?”
“During the vacations.”
“So to say in a month?”
“Perhaps.”
“We'll be waiting.”
“Are you getting bored?”
“Yeah, it is good you go out with your friends. Who would be telling us all these interesting things otherwise?”
“When Aram recovers you will be able to go out too.”
Vahram was touched. He looked at his brother lying in the bed who seemed to have heard nothing.
“That's right we'll go out as soon as he is OK.”
“Then you will come to see all of my friends.”
“So we'll have friends”, said Aram in a high voice seizing playing with his toys.
“I know. Then we'll play with them. Everybody round here knows interesting games. They are good ones.”
“What kind of games?”
“I don't know they are good ones. But they don't usually play these kind of games in our country.”
“Then we should try to recover soon, to see what games these are.”
“You just try to recover soon and everything will be OK.”
Aram looked at the opposite wall for a while, then smiled and said:
“Will we go to the seaside?”
“We will. Then we will see the sea is beautiful.”
“We didn't have sea in our country.”
“Here there is sea and we will go to see it.”
“Can I see it from out the window?”
“No.”
“I am leaving”, Sam said in a hurry and went out.
“So, will we go out once?” asked Vahan in a low voice.
“By all means. We'll go out when Aram is OK”, whispered Sam not to wake the younger brother.
Vahan was swinging the wheelchair thoughtfully.
“How is he to recover? He has been in bed since our arrival.”
“He's ill.”
“I know, and that's the whole problem.”
“He will recover.”
Vahan didn't answer.
“Say something, will he recover?” Sam went on.
Vahan shook his shoulders.
“Just be patient, you will see things are good here. Everything is good. ” Sam talked again.
“You are happy, you have friends, you go to school, and you can go for a walk.”
“Be patient”, repeated Sam.
“I want to go out too; I want to see the sea.”
“You will see it.”
“I can't see it from out the window.”
“It's on the other side.”
Suddenly Vahan rolled the wheelchair towards Sam.
“What if you take me out for five minutes, just for me to see it? Only five minutes…”
Sam stood up.
“Not now.”
“When then?”
“Some day.”
“Go out, I don't want to see anybody,”
“We'll go out.”
“You are lying.”
“I am not.”
“Are you back already?” asked Aram sleepily.
“Yeah.”
“I was asleep.”
“I know. I was here.”
“Did you take the exam?”
“I did.”
“Did you pass it?
“Yeah.”
“What did you do then?”
“I went for a walk with my friends.”
“Are they from our neighborhood?”
“Yeah, they are all my friends in the neighborhood.”
“That's good.”
“Why is it good?”
“It's good when all are your friends, so you can introduce them to me when I go out.”
“I will.”
“Then we'll go out to the seaside.”
“I will teach you make sand castles there.”
Aram was silent for a minute.
“I have never made castles there in our country.”
“You will make them here.”
“I don't want to. If I have made none there, in motherland, I will make none here either.”
“But that's interesting.”
“It is not. I know better.”
“Well, you sure know better.”
Aram gazed at the ceiling sadly.
"Then we'll go home.”
“Yeah, perhaps, we will.”
“Well, if you want we'll make a castle, but only one, just one.”
“OK.”
“Do you feel good?”
“About what?”
“You are happy, everything is OK for you.”
“Isn't everything good for you too?”
Aram turned to the wall and uttered nothing.
“Are you leaving?” asked Vahan.
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to see your friends?”
“Maybe.”
“Where are they now?”
“They are in the yard.”
“Are they waiting for you?”
“I have told them to, so they are there waiting for me.”
“It's good you are happy, which means we are happy too.”
“How?”
“Look, if you are happy, we know everything is OK.”
“I promise to take you to the sea.”
“Go, they are waiting for you.”
“Vahan.”
“What?”
“Promise not to look out of the window till we go out. Never do it.”
“I promise.”
Sam was surprised Vahan had no rejections. He turned to him quickly.
“I will be back soon.”
Sam went out. He was in the yard. There were children there. It was difficult to say what they were busy with. Everybody was gazing at him. Some seized skipping.
“Look, he is back again.”
“He is a refugee.”
“Hey, where are going?”
“Where are going without your invalid brothers?”
“You keep them inside?”
“Move on, what has happened?”
“Go away, run!”
Sam went away in a hurry. He passed by the children in the yard. He was not going to the sea…there was none, there had never been any. Sam turned his head back suddenly. No one was looking out of the window. This was the most important thing. Let them not see their brother walking with his friends happily.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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“What's going on Sargis” asked Gor.
“I had a lot to tell” said Sargis.
Sargis told Gor that he would tell about it in another place, because it's a secret.
Later Sargis told Gor that he had fel in love again.
He said that the girl is tall, beautiful and blonde.
Mush heard about it and said that he doesn't like blonde girls.
Sargis got angry with Mush cause he was in love.
Gor told that Sargis would forget about it after two days, but Sargis told that this one is a true love.
Gor didn't understand him. Sargis said that Gor is still a child to understand such kind of things. He also thought that he will probably merry her. He said that his life is nothing without her.
Sargis was repeating this words the whole day.
Next day he called me again.
He said, “Gor, I'm in love again, but this time I'm in love with her sister. You just can imagine she is tall, blonde, with green eyes and I will really merry her, I can't live without her...”
Wrote at 15 years old age
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“Dear pupils you should write an essay today about spring”, said teacher and went out for a while. I was already tired of writing about spring, when I’m listening the word spring I’m thinking about the piece of paper where I should write about spring. We are writing abut spring all the time, what should I write this time, may be about the nature which is waking up during the spring time. I think I have already written about it.
Then Haroutiun asked me to help him I told him to bring me the paper, he said that he had written a little and need a little more to finish it. I asked him about what he had written. You just can’t imagine what he told me, he started to read, “It’s spring time, the leaves on the trees had turned to yellow, the birds had flown to the warm, north countries.” When I heard that I told him that everything he had written was wrong. He said, “It doesn’t matter, Gor, you just check the grammar.” When I was checking the essay he was standing next to me. After finishing that I started to think about my essay when one of my classmates asked me a question. Almost five minutes no one was disturbing me and I had already written about the leaves, big rain drops when Vahe came and asked me to check his essay too. I got very angry but I checked it. Some minutes later Vahe’s essay which was about flowers, was checked too.
Suddenly teacher entered the classroom, she was angry cause we were making noise. Then my classmate Feliks asked me a question too. Albert told that he would probably get not a bad mark.
Anyway, it was a real spring outside, such kind of spring that we never write about it in our essays.
Wrote at 14 years old age
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The yard was always in shadow. The sun seemed to have forgotten about our houses. The days were white and black and even now I don't seem to remember any other colors.
…Mush and me are in the yard, no one else. There is nothing but shadow and sparkle, the sparkle of Mush's eyes, which are as black as stars. The shine never fades away, even when my brother starts to cry. Sounds-there are none, silence- there is one.
A funeral procession passes by the empty street… without any music, without loud cries… One can only hear the monotonous thumping of people's shoes over the wet ground. They bring the coffin then. It's a soldier. He is young.
“Poor child…”
“He didn't even taste the life…”
The procession disappears.
“God have mercy on him…poor mother…'-moaned my mommy.
I am in my father's arms. Shadows start to retreat. Something seems to have changed. A tram stands out in the distance. It's red, bright red. The tram rolls nearer, it is beside us, and it pulls up. The tram is so large and red. It's the brightest color that comes to my mind. I cry out something but there is only father's smile in response. Other people keep silence. Their faces remain gray. Even the red of the tram doesn't pass to them. I am happy, unutterably happy in spite of all this.
The red is reflected in my eyes. The tram ring goes on echoing in my ears…
The tram is half-empty. I am on father's lap, I look out…
The streets are also half-empty and gray. Things are different in the tram: everything and everybody are gayer. This doesn't matter though: father smiles and this means everything is all right. The tram rolls on to the last stop, we are in…
…The tapping of the typewriter ousts out the ding-dong of the tram.
It's dark. It's time for me to go to bed. The oil lamp crackles. Then, there is tapping again. I can hear none of it after a while, it's a long time I haven't heard it, and I have got used to it. Here is mother bent over the typewriter, there- father working with some documents. Some unutterable warmth laps me for a moment because they all are so near. Then everything freezes and starts to float. I fall asleep. In the absence of any noise from the street, it is the tapping of the typewriter, which reminds me the world is alive…
…Hovnan was born. I am seven. We are below the window of the hospital. Mother shows us the newborn baby. He is wrapped in a red blanket. It's hard to see his face but not mother's eyes shining with joy. They shine just as Mush's eyes do. Who knows, maybe, Hovnan will have the same sparkle in his eyes in some years? I felt father smiling. My new brother's blanket is red, bright-bright, red as the tram was. And I am happy too. The days have started to be filled with tints and hues and there is only a scarcely discernible trace of cold left…
Hovnan is at home. Mush and me examine him attentively. My brother is in a bed, which is too large for him. It's hard to imagine there is a new member in our family. We love him. I understood this when I felt my parents` joy, the warmth of Mush's eyes and how goody one our younger brother was.
There are now more noise and colors. As for shadows- I hardly ever see them. Hovnan's birth changed everything, though it's only now that I realize this…
… The war was over that year.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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I still don’t understand why my mother was angry. Mush and I just went to the end of the street with David. Just for five minutes. But two hours later, when we went back to school, my mother was already there. She was looking for us. Hovik, a friend of Mush, was walking after her like a little devil. He was eating hamburgers and talking. “Are they lost, Mrs. Ruzan? Well, that’s alright, perhaps it’s the maniac again. Have you heard about him?”
My mother stood still for a moment, looked at Hovik, who was chewing fastly. She tried to understand what he had said, but Hovik kept talking. “There is a big hole in the maniac’s neck. Poor Mush, he was a very nice boy!”
“Shut your mouth, Hovik, what maniac?”
“What do you mean? You don’t know him? If he kidnaps someone, no one can find him. You can’t find Mush and Gor. Don’t look for them anymore.”
My mother tried to get away from him, but no one can run away from Hovik.
It seemed to my mother that Hovik wasn’t talking anymore, but he was just swallowing one of his hamburgers. “Alright, Hovik, stay here and I’ll go to call Mush’s father. If they come back, tell them to wait.”
“No, they won’t be back. No one has been saved from the maniac. Our Armenian teacher is gone, too. Perhaps the maniac kidnapped them from here.”
My mother couldn’t stand still any longer.
“Be careful,” Hovik cried after her, “Maybe the maniac will ask for money. But perhaps, he won’t, maniacs don’t need any money.”
I don’t know if my mom heard the last bit of “clever” advice or not. Some minutes later my father was running to school, perhaps a little troubled. When Mush and I came back, Hovik was in the schoolyard and was eating with happy face.
“Oh, you’re back. Well, you’re late. Your mom is in the hospital now, you won’t see her again. Your father is looking for you with policemen. But he was feeling so bad, that, maybe… poor children, you’ll probably go to the orphanage now. Your grandma can’t take care of three children. Everything is so expensive now. The orphanage has its own school, you will study there. Mush, will you give me your game? They’ll take it from you in orphanage anyway. Be grateful that you are alive, while the other members of your family…”
It’s very good that my mother came back soon, or no one could write these words now. What a pleasure, we’re going home, our home.
“You were lucky this time, but when you meet the street hooligans, you won’t be able to survive.”
Wrote at 14 years old age
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“The Hero of the Day” (Confusion)
I was going to school one ordinary morning. Better to say one ordinary morning when we were going to school with my family I started to grumble again:
“Dad, please, can you drive faster? We are late.”
Dad did not listen to me, but when we got to the school, I pushed the door of the car open and dashed out. More exactly, I took my foot out and felt the car was still moving.
“Drive back, dad!” I shouted.
And they compare me with Jelsomino, if you want to imagine how loud I can shout. My voice was so loud that even the adjacent cars pulled down. Dad was pale with fear.
Then I got out of the car as calmly as if nothing had happened and ran to the school. My shoe was only left under the wheel of the car, but the foot soon stopped aching. I entered the class festively limping.
“Why are you limping?” the teacher asked.
Oh, at last…
“The car passed over my foot,” I replied with a seriousness proper to a hero and took my seat limping, but with dignity.
“How did it happen, is it aching”, asked the teacher in such a troubled voice that I started to feel sorry for having accentuated the whole happening so that to impress the teacher.
“It aches, but little.”
My classmates looked at me with envy. They would give everything in the world to be in my favourable condition. It is easy: break your foot, head, or, no, better your right hand- you are in cast while everybody else is busy writing tests. It is good to sit this way, to look far and think of heroic feats.
You are the hero of the day…
I don’t get hurt from those you envy me, because I have envied others myself.
Wrote at 12 years old age
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“Are you really sure?”
“We are”.
“OK”.
My brother and I asked granny's permission to have her small bedroom for a night Granny my younger brother Hovnan were to sleep in the other room. So we went to sleep to the bed. Mush philosophized as usual and Hovnan fell asleep very soon. Granny and Hovnan feel asleep too and there remained no light switched on. As for me, I couldn't fall asleep. It was rather cold but I was all in sweat. In spite of this I was getting deeper & deeper under the blanket. Suddenly I remembered of a rather large mirror hanging in front of me on the wall. I remembered of a rather large mirror hanging in front of me on the wall. I remembered my friends telling me of devils appearing in mirrors at night.
I closed my eyes with all my might and hid my head in the pillow. The sudden footsteps in the corridor made me mad: our door opened to the corridor. The footsteps were odd, like those to be found in films with Van Damm starring, like those of a hero getting prepared for the enemy's murder. Surely, this may have been a hallucination but at the moment I could neither think of the hallucination nor of how to open my mouth. Then I heard “Van Damm's” solemn footsteps at our door and pushed Mush strongly, he hit his head to the wall.
“That's the reason they call it a deductive thinking”, he grumbled and continued sleeping. I was trembling and shivering but still I wouldn't give up. I went on asking Mush to wake up. My attempts all failed, so I became silent. I wanted to call granny, but I wanted to be patient at the same time. The footsteps reached the kitchen. I went on being patient but when something fell to the kitchen floor with noise, my patient blew up.
"G-r-a-n-n-y,'' I shouted in a voice that made the walls resound.
No answer came from the next room. I cried again when somebody banged to the door. My mother was the next whom I called:
“M-a-m-m-y”, and this time the rumble of the walls echoed together with the clang of the windows.
After all it was my granny who came in. I am ashamed of what happened next and prefer omitting this part. As to the noise in the kitchen, it was that of refrigerator and nothing else.
The footsteps remained a mystery and they may say a hundred years the most appalling phantom used to dwell here according to a legend.
Wrote at 12 years old age
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If I didn't exist, it would be very bad for all the children, for whom I still have to write books. Can you imagine what would have happened if Astrid Lindgren hadn't been born? We wouldn't have known Carlson.
And Anderson would not have had such a loyal reader, such as myself. And this is so...
Wrote at 12 years old age
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It happened at my granny's. I come out of the badroom. There was a dead silence around and the tdoor was open. Suddenly I heard somebody going upstairs. He seemed to be drunk. I couldn't see him but I could hear him grumble.
First I stood at the door cold with fear, but then I recovered myself and locked the door with all possible ways the man could approach me.
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“The Trip of The Rice Seed” (Table Tales)
The seeds were in the rice bag, their usual place. They lay peacefully and did not even suspect my mother was going to make dolma (cabbage or grapes leaves stuffed with rice, meat and species.
She emptied the rice into the tray.
“Have we done anything wrong? What a curse!” murmured an old one rice seed, bumping into the tray.
My mother didn’t care. She was cleaning the rice, taking out the damaged seeds.
“Where are you taking me?” screamed the damaged seed and fell down into in the trash bin.
“Hi,” a can lying near said politely.
When the rice was clean, my mother emptied it into the pot.
“Madam, please stop your seamless actions!” screamed the old rice seed, wiping off the dust from itself.
But at that moment mother filled the pot with cold water.
“Help, please help, we’re sinking.”
But this was just the beginning. New trials followed one after the other.
Now mother is mixing the meat with the rice.
“This tactless woman broke my ribs”- groaned the old rice seed.
When the stuff was ready, mother took the green grape leaves and started rolling the dolma. The old seed got a little bit excited.
“I know what this is; I used to be a frequent hiker in the past. These green leaves are sleeping bags. ”
Soon the talk was over; you better don’t ask me how the meal was cooked.
The cooked seed was red with anger, having grown twice as large as it was before. Mother took the dolma, arranged beautifully on a plate to the dinning-room.
The old seed was in my plate.
Wrote at 11 years old age
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“The air and water, without fire and earth” (Future)
I was waiting while Nem was breathing. He was breathing deeply for three minutes, as he would die soon. After a while he began to breathe normally and smiled.
"Your air is so sweet. It's just like the air that the teacher of Astronomy gave us".
I remembered that the air the teacher had given us was of the second level, like the air of restaurants.
"You should come to us more often. We bring here fresh water every month. Do you know how sweet it is? That's underground water. They say, that you can find water if you dig for a long time. That's why it's so expensive. But my father always buys fresh water and air".
Nem looked at the dark barrels, which were moving with a nice sound, when the helicopters of army's food were flying by.
"It's so nice here", said Nem. "Our air isn't very good; it's of the forth level. My dad can't buy water of a better quality; he says he will buy it later, when my elder brother works with him on Mars".
We kept silence for a while. There wasn't anything to talk about. It was boring a little. We had already spoken about Sey’s Grandpa and what he had told us about blue water, which he used to drink when he was young.
"He is mad, isn't he?” I asked. "Sey's grandpa says that water was blue".
"Maybe he is, but I'd like to try blue water. Perhaps it's very sweet."
Well, then there wasn't anything to speak about. We had also talked about all sorts of water and how they tasted.
"Will you come to school tomorrow?", I asked.
"Perhaps I will", Nem answered. "I will breathe a little there. Otherwise our air will be over soon, and we haven't bought water for ten months. Our neighbor gives us some water, when my brother and I clean his spaceship."
Nem stayed for a while. He said that he would wait until the army's helicopter would fly by. And he was breathing while he was waiting, very fast, as if he would die soon…
The next day it was announced in school, that students, who couldn't pay for their air, couldn't come to school any more.
I was amazed very much, though I had been expecting the news for a long time. After classes Nem went away so soon, that I couldn't even speak to him. But what could I say? I wanted to say, that my father could pay instead of him, and that we could give them water. But I was so ashamed to say those things that I didn't even go after him. I knew Nem's character. He would never let us pay instead of him.
It was so boring at home. Dad came back from his workplace soon that day, but I didn't come out of my room. I was very thirsty, but I was trying not to drink.
…I was woken up by a voice which was coming from downstairs. I heard dad's voice, saying:
"Yes, yes, I was waiting for you".
I went down very fast.
There were three strangers standing in the middle of the room. But I could recognize them by things they were holding in their hands.
"Is this all air you have asked?", one of them asked my father.
"Yes, yes, everything is all right", my father told them and watched them doing their job.
Then airsellers went away.
"But we have enough water, nearly for three months", I was amazed. "We don't need this".
"Well, I'd like to have no problems with air", my father answered and opened one of the air barrels.
I looked at all our air with disgust. I'd like to give half of it to Nem’s family, because they shouldn't breathe the air of the fourth level, it's poisonous! And what about our water? It was of the best quality. We didn't need to work on Mars, where many people die every day. We didn't need anything.
"Can I call Nem", I asked.
My father, who was done with air barrels, looked at me.
"Of course, you can".
But Nem did not come. He said that he was going to clean his neighbor's spaceship. I wished that he came and breathed some fresh air.
But Nem would not come. He just hadn't.
When I went to Nem's house, I saw him standing outside with an airmask. I had an airmask, too.
"What has happened?", I asked. We could speak easily in airmasks.
Nem was watching the ground very carefully. The ground was covered with black spots. They were from the last war.
"Why are you outside?" I asked once more.
"You know", said Nem, I noticed, that he was holding a long iron stick in his hand. "I want to work, too. I want to find water and to sell it. Then we will have water and money for air".
"What water, where?"
Nem didn't answer, but hit the ground with his stick very harshly. I didn't understand what he was doing, because the ground was very hard, he couldn't break it even in two years.
"They say underground water is very expensive", Nem continued, but his voice was shaking. "It's so bad my father has no spaceship, he could bring water from Mars. I will bring water from other planets some day".
I didn't even try to stop him, because I knew that was the way he was holding his tears.
"Nem, let's go home, I'll give you some air and water".
"No, everything is all right", Nem said. "My father has bought fresh air and water, so, everything is fine, really, it's all-right".
I didn't say anything, just turned around and ran home.
"Dad, hurry up, take some air and water and let's go to Nem's house".
It was a little difficult to do all those things, because my father had to order all that.
That's why it was very late in the evening, when we went. Their neighbor said that Nem's air and water was over, and their father hadn't been back from Mars for many months.
Now I'm trying not to breathe very much, because Nem needs some air, too. Because he can come every moment, "to breath a little", and when he finishes it, we will talk about blue water, which is very sweet. And maybe Sey's Grandpa isn't mad at all…
Wrote at 15 years old age
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Sometimes it is difficult and unbearable, sometimes pleasant and joyful to live in this world. I have to get up early to go to school. I feel like sleeping and it is quite difficult to pull me out of my bed. Sometimes I have to do my homework but again I force myself into doing it. I am sure that there is a kind of injustice in all this; children are given greater part of concerns than grown ups and life is just a game for the latter. When summer comes, I usually go to Lake Sevan, I swim and get tanned in the sun there; meanwhile my parents have often much work to do and little time to have a rest. So the world is not that bad after all and children are the happiest beings.
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“The Stolen Saturday” (The school)
Starting from last year we have been going to school on Saturdays as well. But I still can’t understand the meaning of this novelty. We were told that this was done to make us less loaded on other days of the week. So we have five classes instead of six every day. But I still keep wondering if a free Saturday was not better. Nothing has changed in sense of our loading: we go to school as usual but now we have an extra day and the school curriculum has undergone no changes at all. We have to get ready for the Monday classes on Sunday so we come not to have a single moment for rest. We cannot choose between school and anything else. No room is left for leisure and relaxation, which is so important. Our time is all staffed, it is impossible to do anything but classes. They stole our Saturday. Was this really necessary?
Wrote at 16 years old age
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