Post by LUDMILA ILYUKHIN on Feb 16, 2012 2:30:36 GMT 1
Russian Federation, somewhere along the river Neva:[/i]
Ludmila, as an inhuman being, had lived for an incredibly long time. For several centuries, to be exact. This, however, did not leave her feeling any wiser. After decades spent living a tortuous and chaotic life, she now felt at the end of her tether. Despite having convinced herself all these years that she had taken the right path, she was now having doubts.
With another trip to Russia had come a short period of wandering. Ludmila had left behind her the dirty, post-Soviet industrial settings, stuffy offices and grey building blocks for the depths of the Russian countryside, heading to a place she'd sworn she'd never return to: her original home, her birth place. The Neva.
The Neva snaked through Western Russia, from the mountains through the stepped, forests and the tundra right into the Arctic Ocean. It was an ancient river. Poets had written about it, peasants from ages long gone had toiled in fields along its banks, armies had crossed its waters to invade foreign lands, and children had bathed and splashed in its shallow areas. Humanity, always pragmatic and intent on furthering its goals, had once drafted plans to dam it when Russia was known as the Soviet Union. Thankfully, the project had been scrapped, and the Neva had remained unspoiled...almost. Further upriver, in urban areas, sewage seeped into its waters, and factories poured harmful chemicals into it.
Ludmila, who had borrowed an old Lada Niva for her excursion, had parked the car at the edge of an old meadow whose rolling green expanse unravelled itself all the way down to the slowly moving waters of the Neva. Wild geese flew overhead and a heron stalked the shallow waters for fish. It was early summer, and the air was warm and heady with Nature's awakening, free from the crushing cold and immaculate snow of winter. Everything was green and beautiful. A tractor could be heard far away in the distance, the only sign of human activity save for the old dirt road and a small, ugly Orthodox shrine by the side of it.
Ludmila could remember this place. The meadow used to have cows in it, and serfs would often drive along the dirt road in rickety carts. Nothing seemed to have changed save for the shrine, which hadn't been there the last time she'd been here. The banks had also been cleared of their bushes, opening them up. Ludmila saw a rock in the distance, on the other side of the river. It was there that she'd first glimpsed the man who would forever change her life. A knight riding by on the river bank, his chain mail glinting in the late afternoon sun.
The memory brought old pain to her heart. The pain of betrayal and shattered dreams. The pain of exile.
With a deep breath, Ludmila climbed over the short, wooden fence that surrounded the meadow and began to make her way down to the river. As she got closer to the water, her senses began to tingle. She felt drawn to the Neva, its waters beckoned to her, wordlessly calling her name. A mother recognising one of her children.
Finally, Ludmila's booted feet dug into the silty banks of her mother river. Slowly, she dropped to her knees and plunged her bare hands into the water, and was instantly greeted by a score of sensations and images. The water caressed her flesh and her soul, she could sense silt, reeds and river plants. She could see fish and other creatures swimming and crawling through the river's depths. With a tinge of sadness, she also sense the attack of chemicals and human waste gnawing at her skin, a stain on the picture.
"Well...it seems you have returned", said a crystalline female voice. Ludmila looked up and saw a beautiful woman with long green hair flowing over her shoulders. On her head was a crown of reeds, and her clear, watery blue eyes seemed to gaze directly into Ludmila's soul.
"- Mother", said Ludmila, in awkward greeting. Before her was the spirit of the Neva, She Who Flows, and mother of the Neva's rusalki. Ludmila felt many things as she looked at Her. Shame, love, regret, happiness and sadness.
"- Did you finally tire of human company?", asked the Mother Neva, her voice like water flowing over pebbles.
"- No...I mean, I don't know...", said Ludmila. "I suppose I just wanted to see if things had changed or not."
"- Men die, the seasons pass, and I flow", said Mother Neva. "Things seldom change...unless those tiresome humans get involved. Their nasty poisons have been strangling my children and my creatures."
"- I'm sorry about that."
"- Why would you be sorry? You are but a leaf adrift on the torrent of life", said Mother Neva with a tinkling chuckle. "Ah...my dear child. I gaze into you as we speak, and all I see is chaos. I see a rusalka in you, but I also see the makings of a human. You are a strange little creature."
Ludmila's jaw stiffened. She'd forgotten that her mother could see into her being like someone gazing into the depths of crystal clear waters.
"- Go ahead. Mock me, Mother", said the rusalka, her words laced with bitterness. "Your stupid daughter, who ran away to chase after some human..."
Mother Neva remained silent, and sadness seemed to fill her eyes as Ludmila spoke.
"All I wanted, Mother", said Ludmila, "was to be free. I didn't know it then, but it's what I wanted. Why couldn't I be free, Mother? Why?"
"- It is a difficult matter, my child", said Mother Neva, her arms swirling in the water, seemingly blending with it. "...why do you crouch there on the bank, in your human garb? Cast it aside and join me. It's been getting a bit lonely here, as of late."
Silently, Ludmila obeyed. She took her clothes off and left them on a rock, neatly folded and ordered. When it came to the comb she wore in her hair, she looked at Mother Neva.
"- You do not need to disguise yourself, my child", said Mother Neva. Ludmila removed the comb from her hair, and her human appearance vanished. Her eyes became the large, pale white orbs they once were, her skin took on a ghostly palor, and her hair lengthened and whitened. Gently, she stepped into the water and faced her mother.
"- Now tell me, Mother", she said, water up to her shoulders. "Why are rusalki not born free?"
Mother Neva sighed, a soft sound like water passing through reeds, and spoke:
"- Rusalki are the daughters of the water that runs through the land. A river travels from its source to its end, and brings life to what lies around it. Rusalki are life...but they are also death. For a rusalka to be born, a maiden must die, her life taken by the waters of a river. And thus, rusalki are the embodiment of a cycle. Life and death...a closed cycle. You cannot possess free will, for it would break the cycle and destroy what you are."
"- But...", said Ludmila, feeling confusion and sadness fighting to break through her usually cold demeanour. "I am stuck with memories of someone who died, someone that I am not...me and my sisters, we were just shells. Watching the world move by, haunted by memories not ours, unable to feel..."
"- Free will is a curse to your kind", said Mother Neva, looking deep into Ludmila's eyes. "It shatters the cycle within you, distorts what you are meant to be. I gaze into you and all I see is chaos, sadness, death...you are lost. Humans thrive where you do not, because they are not a cycle. They are an arrowhead flying through the air, following conscious or unconscious aims. You try to be like them, but you fail. You can never be like them. You try to be an arrowhead, but you only manage to move like a broken wheel. Your being strives for the cycle, but cannot return to it because of your free will. Humans come into the world, they destroy and build, they love..."
"- I loved", said Ludmila.
"- But it is not complete. Your emotions, all these emotions which you can't even control, they are chaotic and distorted. And...oh, my poor child...I see the stain of death on your being. You have killed like humans kill. You have wielded the weapons they make..."
"- I killed, yes", said Ludmila, "but I chose to do so. I am free. I am not shackled like my sisters."
"- No...you are shackled, my child. You are chained to the storm within you, a storm which drives you to destruction and folly."
Ludmila fell silent. For what seemed like an eternity, she drifted in the water, letting the Neva flow over and through her. She knew her mother was right. Her mother could see deep into her being and could unravel the threads of her soul.
"If only you could return to me, my child", said Mother Neva, her voice heavy with sadness. "You were, I must admit, truly exceptional, if troublesome...but you gave your comb to Baba Yaga, and you are bound to her, now. Baba Yaga never releases those bound to her."
It was too much for Ludmila. Slowly, tears began to flow down her face, and her visage twisted. Eventually, she cried openly. All she felt was worthlessness, loss, regret. She had damned herself.
"- Oh...Mother. I'm so sorry", she wept. "I have damned myself. I'm just...an insect crawling on the edge of a razor..."
"- Come", said Mother Neva, inviting Ludmila into a motherly embrace. "I do not like to see my children unhappy...the few I have left..."
Ludmila lay in her mother's embrace, shaking and weeping. Her mother's arms were warm, comforting...but so distant, too. Finally, her tears stopped, and Ludmila found herself able to speak again.
"- Mother...what happened to my sisters? I do not feel them any more..."
"- They are gone, my child. Faded away. The poisons that seep into these waters wore my children down. Only a few remain, but they are weak, and grow weaker every day."
Ludmila took the news in silence. It saddened her, but at the same time, she felt detached from it. A sign she would never be able to return to her old home. She was too broken to do so. Too chaotic. Eventually, she left her mother's embrace and returned to the bank to retrieve her comb and clothes.
"- Bye, Mother", she said. "I'm sorry for everything I did."
"- Do not apologise, my child", said Mother Neva. "And please...come back whenever you can."
"- I will", said Ludmila, putting her clothes back on. "I promise."
Mother Neva smiled, and, without a word, dove back into the depths of the river. Ludmila stood for a long time on the bank, staring at where her mother had been. Finally, the rusalka turned away from the river and slowly walked up the bank and into the meadow. It was late afternoon, and birds were singing away in the bushes and trees. Everything was peaceful. Ludmila slowly made her way to the old, olive green Lada she'd borrowed for the trip. She took a worn, army blanket from the boot and laid it out on the car's roof before lying down on it and gazing up at the blue sky.
A cloud drifted lazily overhead, and as Ludmila watched it, she noted it looked like a frog.
She smiled.
Ludmila, as an inhuman being, had lived for an incredibly long time. For several centuries, to be exact. This, however, did not leave her feeling any wiser. After decades spent living a tortuous and chaotic life, she now felt at the end of her tether. Despite having convinced herself all these years that she had taken the right path, she was now having doubts.
With another trip to Russia had come a short period of wandering. Ludmila had left behind her the dirty, post-Soviet industrial settings, stuffy offices and grey building blocks for the depths of the Russian countryside, heading to a place she'd sworn she'd never return to: her original home, her birth place. The Neva.
The Neva snaked through Western Russia, from the mountains through the stepped, forests and the tundra right into the Arctic Ocean. It was an ancient river. Poets had written about it, peasants from ages long gone had toiled in fields along its banks, armies had crossed its waters to invade foreign lands, and children had bathed and splashed in its shallow areas. Humanity, always pragmatic and intent on furthering its goals, had once drafted plans to dam it when Russia was known as the Soviet Union. Thankfully, the project had been scrapped, and the Neva had remained unspoiled...almost. Further upriver, in urban areas, sewage seeped into its waters, and factories poured harmful chemicals into it.
Ludmila, who had borrowed an old Lada Niva for her excursion, had parked the car at the edge of an old meadow whose rolling green expanse unravelled itself all the way down to the slowly moving waters of the Neva. Wild geese flew overhead and a heron stalked the shallow waters for fish. It was early summer, and the air was warm and heady with Nature's awakening, free from the crushing cold and immaculate snow of winter. Everything was green and beautiful. A tractor could be heard far away in the distance, the only sign of human activity save for the old dirt road and a small, ugly Orthodox shrine by the side of it.
Ludmila could remember this place. The meadow used to have cows in it, and serfs would often drive along the dirt road in rickety carts. Nothing seemed to have changed save for the shrine, which hadn't been there the last time she'd been here. The banks had also been cleared of their bushes, opening them up. Ludmila saw a rock in the distance, on the other side of the river. It was there that she'd first glimpsed the man who would forever change her life. A knight riding by on the river bank, his chain mail glinting in the late afternoon sun.
The memory brought old pain to her heart. The pain of betrayal and shattered dreams. The pain of exile.
With a deep breath, Ludmila climbed over the short, wooden fence that surrounded the meadow and began to make her way down to the river. As she got closer to the water, her senses began to tingle. She felt drawn to the Neva, its waters beckoned to her, wordlessly calling her name. A mother recognising one of her children.
Finally, Ludmila's booted feet dug into the silty banks of her mother river. Slowly, she dropped to her knees and plunged her bare hands into the water, and was instantly greeted by a score of sensations and images. The water caressed her flesh and her soul, she could sense silt, reeds and river plants. She could see fish and other creatures swimming and crawling through the river's depths. With a tinge of sadness, she also sense the attack of chemicals and human waste gnawing at her skin, a stain on the picture.
"Well...it seems you have returned", said a crystalline female voice. Ludmila looked up and saw a beautiful woman with long green hair flowing over her shoulders. On her head was a crown of reeds, and her clear, watery blue eyes seemed to gaze directly into Ludmila's soul.
"- Mother", said Ludmila, in awkward greeting. Before her was the spirit of the Neva, She Who Flows, and mother of the Neva's rusalki. Ludmila felt many things as she looked at Her. Shame, love, regret, happiness and sadness.
"- Did you finally tire of human company?", asked the Mother Neva, her voice like water flowing over pebbles.
"- No...I mean, I don't know...", said Ludmila. "I suppose I just wanted to see if things had changed or not."
"- Men die, the seasons pass, and I flow", said Mother Neva. "Things seldom change...unless those tiresome humans get involved. Their nasty poisons have been strangling my children and my creatures."
"- I'm sorry about that."
"- Why would you be sorry? You are but a leaf adrift on the torrent of life", said Mother Neva with a tinkling chuckle. "Ah...my dear child. I gaze into you as we speak, and all I see is chaos. I see a rusalka in you, but I also see the makings of a human. You are a strange little creature."
Ludmila's jaw stiffened. She'd forgotten that her mother could see into her being like someone gazing into the depths of crystal clear waters.
"- Go ahead. Mock me, Mother", said the rusalka, her words laced with bitterness. "Your stupid daughter, who ran away to chase after some human..."
Mother Neva remained silent, and sadness seemed to fill her eyes as Ludmila spoke.
"All I wanted, Mother", said Ludmila, "was to be free. I didn't know it then, but it's what I wanted. Why couldn't I be free, Mother? Why?"
"- It is a difficult matter, my child", said Mother Neva, her arms swirling in the water, seemingly blending with it. "...why do you crouch there on the bank, in your human garb? Cast it aside and join me. It's been getting a bit lonely here, as of late."
Silently, Ludmila obeyed. She took her clothes off and left them on a rock, neatly folded and ordered. When it came to the comb she wore in her hair, she looked at Mother Neva.
"- You do not need to disguise yourself, my child", said Mother Neva. Ludmila removed the comb from her hair, and her human appearance vanished. Her eyes became the large, pale white orbs they once were, her skin took on a ghostly palor, and her hair lengthened and whitened. Gently, she stepped into the water and faced her mother.
"- Now tell me, Mother", she said, water up to her shoulders. "Why are rusalki not born free?"
Mother Neva sighed, a soft sound like water passing through reeds, and spoke:
"- Rusalki are the daughters of the water that runs through the land. A river travels from its source to its end, and brings life to what lies around it. Rusalki are life...but they are also death. For a rusalka to be born, a maiden must die, her life taken by the waters of a river. And thus, rusalki are the embodiment of a cycle. Life and death...a closed cycle. You cannot possess free will, for it would break the cycle and destroy what you are."
"- But...", said Ludmila, feeling confusion and sadness fighting to break through her usually cold demeanour. "I am stuck with memories of someone who died, someone that I am not...me and my sisters, we were just shells. Watching the world move by, haunted by memories not ours, unable to feel..."
"- Free will is a curse to your kind", said Mother Neva, looking deep into Ludmila's eyes. "It shatters the cycle within you, distorts what you are meant to be. I gaze into you and all I see is chaos, sadness, death...you are lost. Humans thrive where you do not, because they are not a cycle. They are an arrowhead flying through the air, following conscious or unconscious aims. You try to be like them, but you fail. You can never be like them. You try to be an arrowhead, but you only manage to move like a broken wheel. Your being strives for the cycle, but cannot return to it because of your free will. Humans come into the world, they destroy and build, they love..."
"- I loved", said Ludmila.
"- But it is not complete. Your emotions, all these emotions which you can't even control, they are chaotic and distorted. And...oh, my poor child...I see the stain of death on your being. You have killed like humans kill. You have wielded the weapons they make..."
"- I killed, yes", said Ludmila, "but I chose to do so. I am free. I am not shackled like my sisters."
"- No...you are shackled, my child. You are chained to the storm within you, a storm which drives you to destruction and folly."
Ludmila fell silent. For what seemed like an eternity, she drifted in the water, letting the Neva flow over and through her. She knew her mother was right. Her mother could see deep into her being and could unravel the threads of her soul.
"If only you could return to me, my child", said Mother Neva, her voice heavy with sadness. "You were, I must admit, truly exceptional, if troublesome...but you gave your comb to Baba Yaga, and you are bound to her, now. Baba Yaga never releases those bound to her."
It was too much for Ludmila. Slowly, tears began to flow down her face, and her visage twisted. Eventually, she cried openly. All she felt was worthlessness, loss, regret. She had damned herself.
"- Oh...Mother. I'm so sorry", she wept. "I have damned myself. I'm just...an insect crawling on the edge of a razor..."
"- Come", said Mother Neva, inviting Ludmila into a motherly embrace. "I do not like to see my children unhappy...the few I have left..."
Ludmila lay in her mother's embrace, shaking and weeping. Her mother's arms were warm, comforting...but so distant, too. Finally, her tears stopped, and Ludmila found herself able to speak again.
"- Mother...what happened to my sisters? I do not feel them any more..."
"- They are gone, my child. Faded away. The poisons that seep into these waters wore my children down. Only a few remain, but they are weak, and grow weaker every day."
Ludmila took the news in silence. It saddened her, but at the same time, she felt detached from it. A sign she would never be able to return to her old home. She was too broken to do so. Too chaotic. Eventually, she left her mother's embrace and returned to the bank to retrieve her comb and clothes.
"- Bye, Mother", she said. "I'm sorry for everything I did."
"- Do not apologise, my child", said Mother Neva. "And please...come back whenever you can."
"- I will", said Ludmila, putting her clothes back on. "I promise."
Mother Neva smiled, and, without a word, dove back into the depths of the river. Ludmila stood for a long time on the bank, staring at where her mother had been. Finally, the rusalka turned away from the river and slowly walked up the bank and into the meadow. It was late afternoon, and birds were singing away in the bushes and trees. Everything was peaceful. Ludmila slowly made her way to the old, olive green Lada she'd borrowed for the trip. She took a worn, army blanket from the boot and laid it out on the car's roof before lying down on it and gazing up at the blue sky.
A cloud drifted lazily overhead, and as Ludmila watched it, she noted it looked like a frog.
She smiled.
