Morning comes tomorrow…

Steam from a cup of coffee was rising above her, occasionally doing pirouettes because of a light breeze which was blowing through a slightly opened window in the kitchen.Molly was absently twisting a cup of black drink in her hands, trying to come to herself. “What will I tell him? How can I look into his eyes? ” she thought, without stopping nervously twist the cup in hands. “We lived together not so many years, but I’ve never heard the desired words from him, and now … What should I do now, when this happened?” The askew ray of the sun lightened the chocolate curls of a young girl. She was about 22 years old. A thin body with long beautiful fingers on the hands which were shaking from the sufferings. The brown eyes glowed with sadness and lack of understanding. It seemed that everything inside her was protesting against the difficulties that had arisen in front of her.


She took a sip of her cup of coffee, but she choked and coughed. She had forgot to put sugar! This moment sobered her up, and she tried to come to her senses.Her right hand reached out to what lay in front of the cup with coffee. There was a long white object with two pale stripes on a small display. It was a pregnancy test. A few hours ago she decided to test herself for courage, and, perhaps, for the sake of joking. But when she saw the result, the creature inside of her did not believe and forced to go to the pharmacy and buy a few more. Read the rest of this page »


Do not look away!

Hello everyone! Before you’ll start reading I should say that I read this story last year. I was really impressed and wanted translate it to English. But I haven’t got enough time to that moment. Finally I found time and I have finished translate it today. Thanks a lot to the author of this amazing story — Evgeny Cheshirko. 

I’ll be glad to see and read your opinions about this story and about my translation. All mistakes will be corrected, I promise!

P.S. Here are  English and Russian versions of this story. Thanks for reading!


“Mum, why does that grandfather always sits on a bench at an entrance?” the girl had went away from a window and looked at her mother.

“What grandfather? Grigory Ivanovich?”

“Probably,”the girl shrugged shoulders.

“Well, he wants to sit here and sits,” mother smiled. “He breathes fresh air.”

“And why does he constantly look before himself?” her daughter hadn’t known rest. “I passed by yesterday, greeted him, and he even answered nothing. He stared somewhere and sat silently.”

“He is already old,” mother patiently explained. “Maybe, he didn’t hear you.”

“Mum… He always talks to himself.”

The woman approached a window and looked out on the street. The old man sat on the bench in his unchanged pose: having leaned two hands on his walking-stick facing it and having put a chin on hands. A little bit after watching him, the woman turned to the daughter.

“I hope you do not offend him?” her mother said sternly.

“Of course not!” the girl answered quickly. “He’s just some strange grandpa. He talks to himself and silent with others. He looks constantly somewhere, sitting there alone…”

The woman shook her head and sat on a sofa.

“The fact is that he…” Read the rest of this page »

Часть меня

s1ajakgi_fgОн сидел на крылечке своего старого, обветшалого от времени, домика и писал что-то на измятом, вырванном откуда-то, кусочке пожелтевшей бумаги. Маленький, изгрызенный по бокам карандаш, видимо, в моменты особого напряжения и сомнений, каждые несколько секунд выскальзывал из его руки, и он всеми силами стискивал его ещё сильнее. Но разве можно было таким огрызком ещё что-то писать?.. В его голове витало бесконечное число мыслей, которые он пытался воплотить карандашом на бумаге.

Это был последний день Read the rest of this page »

Soul in hell (Душа в аду)

Кругом была тьма. Не было ни одного намека на проникновение света сквозь  пустое черное как смоль пространство. Я не помню кем я был, кто я есть сейчас. Ощущения невесомости в теле добавляли дополнительных балов пустоте. Что со мной? Кто я? Где я?

Каждое мгновение  мне слышалась какая-то отдаленная мелодия, напоминающая звук свирели. Но как только я пытался понять её, услышать, она тут же исчезала. Мгла поглощала всё, что могла. На удивление я знал название этой темноте, но больше мне ничего не было ведомо. Read the rest of this page »

Parents and their daughter.

I read it yesteray, and I don’t know what to tell.

Though the morality of this story is obvious – you should listen to those who care for you, and you shouldn’t do what you are afraid of.

“One girl had quarreled with her parents.She wanted to go to the music party with her friends. But her parents felt nervous over her and they hadn’t allowed her to make this.


Then the girl rushed into her bedroom and slammed behind herself a door.In the evening of the same day, she has decided to slip away from the house and to go to the party without asking the permission of parents.The girl had dressed herself and jumped out of the bedroom’s window, and went to the house of the friends.

Read the rest of this page »

“Music of my soul” ( “Музыка моей души”)

“I think that it is difficult to imagine the person who wouldn’t know that the music means.You will smile at such nonsense, but there are also such people who run from fine, magic sounds of a violin, for example, as from a hurricane.I am glad to recognize that there is not a lot of such people, fortunately for the musician.Is it possible to live without music?

Read the rest of this page »

%d bloggers like this: