STORIES

arkhip labakhua is an all-round engineer and inventive tinker, who manages to conjure up a range of fantastic worlds better than anyone; as a gifted performer and uncrowned emperor of reduction he knows how to seduce his audience to a microscopic view in his minitheater; as a passionate narrator he masters the art of shedding light on his personal miraculous life. _his skills in prose writing remained underexposed. _to change that, here are three short autobiographic stories from the master’s hand. _common stories about an uncommon childhood, written from an uncommon perspective, each time with a single twist that pulls you into the deep. _limited edition printed on abkhazian tracing paper and curled up to a scroll.

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THE FIRE PLACE

In those days, I once read several stories about Holmes. And I completely lost my head. And so I decided that in first place I need to create if not the atmosphere of the living room, then at least a corner decoration in the room. I started with the fire-place, it was quite voluminous and deep, I was making it from what was on hand: wooden slats and sticks (the frame), and cardboard for the facade. It had an arched opening with a mantelpiece, of course. On the mantelpiece there were all sorts of things: candles, books, I even found a Turkish shoe for tobacco some where. And inside the fireplace I laid firebrands pre-charred in the yard, glued flame tongues from whatman paper (colored) to them. And under all of it I installed a small light bulb with a tin-plate pinwheel. The pinwheel spun from heat and the fire “came to life”.

Now goes Holmes himself. Classic black trousers and a white shirt were found; Zurab’s (father’s) vest was vast, however I managed to adjust it to my figure with the help of pins. Further, the briolin (gel) on the hair combed back, and to hell, I did not have classic patent leather shoes. I had to put on my father’s, five sizes larger! The pipe’s in my mouth and - ‘Oh, what bliss!’ - Here I stand in front of the fireplace in thought and ponder. Suddenly the fire stopped. I turned, examined the pinwheel and did not understand - what slowed it down? And did it with a certain interval in time… Again the pinwheel stopped; annoyed I stamped my foot - the fire started. I stomped every few minutes, trained my fire and kept walking back and forth. I lacked only Watson and a crime!
The doorbell rang. Our neighbor Eka, a lanky, always phlegmatic basketball player, for some reason was not surprised at my outfit.
- Is Toma in? (my sister)
- No, she has gone somewhere. (I am very angry that she is not addressing me as Holmes)
- Where did she go, you’re probably lying.
- If you don’t believe me, come in and check.
She somehow straightaway went to the living room, back and forth, and saw the fireplace. – ‘Oh, how cozy’, and suddenly ran away, returning in a minute with some kind of knitted garment in her hands, (she was always knitting something in her free time) sat by the fireplace and began to knit with the words: "Now I’ll knit here, at your place, by the fireplace!" And I kept walking and contemplating...

 

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THE HORSE

I was about ten. And here I am sitting in the kitchen of our second summer residence. Everyone has gone somewhere. And I am sitting alone in the quiet, eating a watermelon… There was an open window and a wonderful scene in front of me – a suburban pastoral. At some point a character appeared in my “picture”. It was a small figure of a white nag. She was peacefully grazing.

Instinctively, without thinking, I got up. The next moment I was heading for her. There was a slice of watermelon in my right hand and the stool I had just sat on in my left. I came closer. She was not frightened, although she had obviously run wild…
I am offering her the slice, she is taking willingly. And I am, without harsh movements, putting the stool by her belly. The gee-gee is eating the slice. A flash and I am on her. She was very scared and rushed ahead so quickly that I failed to catch the rope, it was dangling on her neck; and clung to her old, rare, yellowish mane. In short, she frantically galloped. I was also very scared, held on with all my might, beat off the coccyx – there was no saddle. We galloped frenziedly. Suddenly she started heading for the young forest. And the trees there were planted very densely, for some reason. Namely, the distance between trees ranged from 80 centimeters to 1 meter. In horror I already imagined my knees breaking: “I am fed to the teeth – I want to go home!”
That’s it, we are in the forest. We are demoniacally galloping and I keep thinking of my knees. And all of a sudden the gee-gee lost her rhythm, she had stumbled over something! I was thrown up sharply and the branch in front of me was exactly at the level of my throat. But I was lucky: the branch was dried out. It broke, but I, literally, did somersaults and fell on my butt. And, spellbound as in the beginning, I am sitting and gazing at the small figure of the running away horse.

Apparently, Charlie Chaplin created the trick not accidentally – when he, at the end of a film, goes to the deep, to the perspective. It’s almost a physiological longing, a yearning to bring him back.

* * *

SUMMER – AUTUMN

Oh, solitude, how beautiful you are!
How joyful to possess you
Because leaving I return

Omar Khayyam

I was about fifteen, when my father had made another successful step in his career. Every such step was accompanied by a new car, a new parlor, and a better summer residence. And now this last one was my favorite.

It was situated in the country cottage settlement called Tskhneti in the fenced area (with a grotesque name “Bureau-Zone”, or rather, everybody used to call it that way) with twin militiamen, pot-bellied and mustached. They were dozing on duty all the time. Our family spent weekends at our summer residence. Later, on entering Tbilisi Academy of Fine Arts, I made up my mind to live at the residence all the year round and go to college in the city by bus. But nothing of the kind happened. I badly missed classes that my first year whilst my parents were completely unaware of it.

And I was having a wonderful time: taking long walks in the woods, wandering around the park, climbing the huge oak-tree and lying in it for hours like a leopard. I cooked for myself, read, talked to my friends on the phone and listened to music in the garden. On the terrace I would switch on the record player and run like a madman to the garden armchair: I wanted to catch the beginning sitting. Then for the first time in my life I thought that how nice it was to have a secretary servant. Generally I think that in my previous life I had been an unjust king…
Then, wandering around the town (Tskhneti), in the window of the sports shop I saw a rolled up hammock. And it was for children and a very cheap one; it cost 13 rubbles which was equal to 5 packs of “Lux” cigarettes. I bought it instantly. For a few days I did not know where to hang it: so many choices I had. I carried it with me, rolled up, from one room to another; cooked meals for myself, glancing at it. And was thinking: where? I felt a certain idea in it.

So one day I again found myself by that very oak-tree near the fence. That time he seemed especially big: it was barely noticeable that he, completely at ease, with his huge spreading arms-branches, was looking at me appraisingly. I immediately saw the right place for my hammock. The following day I decided that I would for the first time try cigarettes and cognac. Same “Lux” cigarettes… and the cognac was Armenian. And what more, a fake one with a grammar mistake on its label… In the evening, grabbing a blanket and my small ‘hazards” I headed for the oak-tree. I fixed the hammock on the topmost branches, as thin as a child’s arm. I did it deliberately, taking into account the crown sensitivity to breezes. At last, I lay down. I was completely concealed by the foliage and visible from nowhere. “Oh, mon Dieu!” I thought. And so I lay, for some time, without a thought, empty and blissful. At some point I was smoking. The cigarettes were disgusting, full of everything except tobacco; I can even remember a shred… I could not rate the cognac, but my head got heavy and at once a breeze began to blow and I was swaying, very smoothly. While falling asleep, I could see a hole in the crown above me and in it a piece of the night starry sky.

And yet, I moved to the city. I studied reluctantly, most of the time dreaming. And suddenly I fell in love. The girl’s name was Greta. It was a person with a bouquet of advantages. I lost my mind, went crazy, raved about her, talked about her, thought of her when falling asleep and waking up. So a year passed. And once at night I lay awake in the dark with my eyes open without sleep and it came and I fell asleep. And I dreamt of the hammock about which I had long forgotten. The next morning I was sitting in a taxi, rushing to the bus stop, then in a bus to the town, then walking hastily up, to “Bureau Zone”. And already from afar I could see the oak-tree, infinitely empty, his leaves fallen.