I was Janus once
a shiny side
a muted side
put all happiness aside
It wasn’t me
it certainly wasn’t you
for one day I was famous
then a hot wind blew it away
I spun the coin
heads or tales
to be or not to be
there’s no answer to the question
but there are always two sides
The prompt for Reena’s Xploration 231 is to reflect on the Poem “How to Be Alone by Padraig O Tuama
Reflect on How to Be Alone
The clothes we had put in the closet were dated and we both chuckled. Ukraine had become quite modernized but in 1991 there was little fashion. My skirt was grey and my blouse was yellowed from many washings. I was glad I had packed an old blond wig. The blond with my blue eyes gave me a first glance pass as Ukrainian. I looked at Don. All I could think of was to use some hair dye I had earlier mixed in a bottle.
” It will at least take away the grey.” I said as I pulled a workers cap on his head.
“Now what?” I had a blank look.
“We need to find food and answers. Food should be easy.” He pointed toward the door.
I had forgotten that we weren’t in a war zone and there would be food. We sat down at a café in the Passage and had a luxurious coffee and pastry. We ordered several more for “later.” We also stopped at a fruit stand and filled a bag with apples. My mouth watered.
“Let’s get this food to our friends.” I said casually.
We were careful as we went up the stairs to watch for anything out of the ordinary. As I turned the hallway, I thought I saw a shadow. We stopped.
“K – G- B?” I signed the letters to my husband.
He shrugged his shoulders. We listened intently – nothing.
As silently as we could we went to our room.
“Do not eat these too quickly.” I instructed the children as I gave them the pastries, fruit and some juice.
“We will eat slowly. Won’t we children?” Marina said.
“We are sorry to keep you locked away, but we need to keep you safe.” I waved toward the closet.
Each of our friends stretched their arms, legs and backs and willingly climbed back into the hideaway.
“I think we need to look for the professor.” I said to Don. “I’m worried about him.”
“He may not be in this time period.” My husband looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
“Hmmm. Wouldn’t they leave us a clue?”
“Only if they could.”
We carefully went down the hallway of the Passage that was set aside for guests from the past or the future. There was no evidence of anyone being there.
“Who can we ask?”
I had an idea. I grabbed my husband’s hand and ran down the old hallway. There was one more room with a hideaway.
We listened carefully at the door. No sound.
The door was unlocked. I gave him the thumbs up.
He walked around the room looking for any clues.
Just then we heard a load noise in the hallway. We froze and looked at each other…
This is a continuation of a story that I began writing in Odessa, Ukraine in 2007 at The Passage Hotel. The time period was moved to 2022 as a tribute to the heroism of the men and women who are living in Ukraine (especially Odessa) right now.
This link will take you to beginning of the story The Passage – authors
This links you to the beginning of part 2 – Passage to the Portal (During War)
What did you say?
είναι ελληνικό για μένα *
can you be clearer?
είναι ελληνικό για μένα
this is making No sense
είναι ελληνικό για μένα
‘My Greek’s rusty. I think he said “great idea”‘
‘I think it’s Greek to him as well ‘
What are we agreeing to???
*it’s greek to me…
Reena’s prompt is the image above – Treat the two images as two stages, and write about what happened in between. You can change the order as you wish, or even add more stages in between.
Wow Reena knows how to make a challenge xploration challenge #230
Here’s the prompt from the talented Reena Saxena @ xploration challenge
“I have untapped abilities waiting to be discovered.”
If you find it complex, you can use Layers as a theme for your piece.
*
It was a journey that I look back upon and wish I had never begun. There are many layers to this journey. Too many…
It began with a wonderful life with an intelligent, witty, charming partner. I couldn’t have asked for more enjoyment. We shared many of the same interests: poetry, writing, going on adventures and playing games.
I wish now (for his sake) that I had never ever had a curiosity for boxes but I always had. There is something about lifting the top of a box if only to peek inside the corner. Boxes seemed potentially to hold treasure.
My interest in boxes is now a curse but I’m slightly ahead of this story.
The home I moved into with my husband had a basement filled with boxes. There were thousands of them. Some were very big while others were quite small.
“What’s in the boxes?” My curiosity to open each box caused me to ask.
“I don’t know. Most of them were left by the man I bought the house from. He was my auntie’s husband. Some of the boxes were dropped by my brothers and others left by my former wife. Those over there are my own.” He pointed to a neat stack of games. Many of those games we had already played with friends or family.
With too much time on my hands, I started looking at the boxes from a distance. They did not belong to us but they were in our home.
Then on a cold windy day, I opened the first one. It was a pretty box with shiny ribbon. There was a beautiful poem written with a lady’s elegance.
I put the box away, walked up the stairs and reflected on the beautiful poem. I got out my own poetry journal and began to write. My husband later remarked that these were the best poems I had ever written.
It snowed a few days later and I again went down the stairs to open one box. This box had blue geometric shapes on it. There was a note inside that said:
“You should look under the third tree to the right of the boundary. there is something interesting there.”
“It’s too cold.” I said to the note carefully putting the top back on the box. “Let’s see what’s in one more.”
“Listen to what you read or someone could end up dead.” A note was written in large bold print with a hefty exclamation point.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
A box fell on the flor. I opened it.
“No!!!” Even bolder letters stated.
I can’t tell you how fast my heart was beating but it was fast I assure you. I tried to calmly put each note back into their respective boxes and then back on the shelf they had come from. I turned to find the them back on the floor. Another had fallen and the lid off. The note opened “GO!”
“Okay I’m going.”
This time I left the boxes and grabbed gloves and a shovel. I forgot a winter jacket.
“What am I doing?” I spoke to the shovel as I walked toward the boundary of our property.
The tree looked slightly different from the others and I knew it was the right one. I dug. I didn’t need to dig too deep. There I found the bones that had belonged to a woman’s hand.
Not knowing what to do I put the hand back in the hole and covered it. I then went to the basement to put the boxes away and lock the door to the basement.
Another box had fallen and the note said “put it in here.”
I screamed.
“The hand?”
Another box fell. I didnt even bother to read it.
I rushed upstairs grabbed a bag to put the hand in. I wrapped the hand, covered the hole, ran back to the basement, put the hand in the box, taped that box together with all the tape I could find, put the rest of the boxes that had opened away, ran out of the room, locked the door, went upstairs, made some tea, look a long sigh.
I forgot about the shovel until my husband came to me with the shovel and a note…
Did I mention my undiscovered ability (underdiscovered) is as a closet horror writer?
We stood in front of the clock in the Passage Hotel. The hands seemed as if they didn’t want to move forward. I looked at my husband with open hands and pointed to the rifle.
“You are good, but you can’t shoot two guns at once.” I pointed at the Kalashnikov.
“Trigger finger, eh?” He held the strap against his shoulder tightly. “Mae, you can barely stand.”
“We are potentially entering a portal with a KGB operative. I need to man up.” I knew not to grab for the gun so I just pleaded with my eyes.
The hour hand finally clicked to the 3.
“Let’s go then.” Don handed me the rifle.
He showed me how to place my feet on the design on the carpet. We both clutched our guns in a fighting stance. His other hand was on my back so he could push me forward if necessary.
We walked into 1991 uncertain of what we would face and who would greet us.
“It’s so quiet.” I whispered.
We went down the hallway to the blue room. My husband put his ear against the door to check for any sounds. He shook his head.
“Let’s check our room.” He mouthed as he pointed across the hall.
Again, there were no sounds.
Now What? I looked at my husband with confusion. One misstep could be our last.
He turned the door knob and opened the door.
While he swept the room for signs of intruders, I noticed something out of place.
The lamp was on the wrong table. Then the question was: Would Valeria have done that to warn us?
Don picked up the lamp; there was a lipstick marking underneath. The V in the heart pointed to our secret room.
I rushed over.
“Careful.”
As I clicked the release, I heard the voice of a child.
Don locked the door, wedged a chair under the door and stood with his gun raised at the door. He motioned me inside the secret room.
“What genius,” I thought.
Valeria had put Dmitre’s family in the secret room that was part of our room. Our room was always unlocked so it seemed unlikely that you would hide someone in an unlocked room.
The children rushed into my arms.
Malika’s eyes were moist even Luda looked grateful.
“How long?” I whispered.
“Many days or is it weeks? We have not seen Valeria for 2 days.”
“And no food,” Sasha chimed in.
“We need to take care of that.” My husband peered in and handed me the gun. “What have you heard and what noises?”
“There was a bad man here. We do not know where he is now, but he hurt the professor.”
“You have been hiding – here.” The women nodded.
“Not at first.” Luda added. She pointed across the hall.
“Vlad and Valeria were here?”
“Yes, they moved us.”
“For now, let us put you back in the room. We will be back.” Hopefully, my husband said under his breath.
The first thing we did was check the blue room. It had been disturbed then tidied up by Valeria.
“What about the supply closet?” I knew there were medical supplies and food there.
“I don’t want to lead someone to so valuable a location. Let’s change clothes then go downstairs. The man knows what we look like in these clothes.”
While we changed, I wondered where Vlad and Valeria were. And another question – where was everyone else?
If you have just read this story there is a beginning broken into parts. You can find the links here.
This will link you to the next part of this story. “Where is everyone?”
The Passage is a hotel in Odessa, Ukraine. It was built in the 1890s. The Passage still stands and has housed many soldiers over many wars and incursions. There was also an underground passage used by resistance. This story was originally written in 2007 in Ukraine. The intention of this story is to applaud the bravery of the Ukrainian men and women who are holding on to each piece of their country.
name over a name
golden are trees memories
blood from broken heart
Joining in on Steve Slack’s writing prompt The Write Photo. Based on the photo write a haiku or a story in 55 words.
swishing water
all around
waves of colour
splashing sound
child’s smile
in the sun
rays of light
lapping fun
Observing children live life is one of the most calming and rewarding of activities. Watch a child play today…
moderators, old timers, just starting out
sharing one common thing
the month of April
in some places Spring
writers, poets, students, experts, bloggers
laugh, compose, take pictures, sigh
community for a month
until 2023 it’s goodbye
but wait hold that thought
learned, grew, took awhile
misplaced your pen
found your smile
Each year without fail I meet some amazing people and their writing / blogging is awesome too!
This 2022 is not exception because it is A to Z.
it slowly rose
displayed yellows, orange, reds
setting for another year
hyperlink code <a href=” todays blog permalink here ” > My title</a>
it’s that easy
“How did you know Zelensky?” I had asked Luda when I first met her at her home in Mariople.
“He grew up next door. When my nephews visit, they played. They became very good friends. Those boys have been together through many things and now war. Do you know his name means ‘famous leader?'”
No I didnt not know the meaning of his name, but it fit. These were the few things I knew about Volodymyr Zelensky who was elected President of Ukraine in 2019:
Volodymyr was born in 1978. Ukrainian was then part of the Soviet Union. After the fall of communism, Zelenskyy co-founded a successful comedy troupe and studied law.
Volodymyr Zelensky had been in the position of President of Ukraine for a few years when Russia attacked on Feb 24. Zelensky grew up under the iron fist of Mother Russia and had no desire to see his country torn apart. once again.
In his nightly address to the nation, we heard Zelenskyy say:
Thanks to the courage, wisdom of our defenders, thanks to the courage of all Ukrainian men, all Ukrainian women our state is a real symbol of struggle for freedom. Everyone in the world – and even those who do not openly support us – agree that it is in Ukraine that the fate of Europe, the fate of global security, the fate of the democratic system is being decided. And above all, it is being decided what life in the center and east of our continent will be like and whether there will be life at all.
(excerpt of speech on April 26)
“Zelensky is meeting with the UN and EU as we were having this conversation. We hope for help and weapons.” Dmitre relayed to us.
“We are glad that you, your brother and the President are safe.” My husband said. “What can we do now to help?”
“I know the President would tell you to get into safety. Your wife is still recovering. “
“You are asking us to go into hiding while there is …”
“Yes, You must. “
“But Dmitre what about????” I was near tears.
“There is still my family. They are in danger.”
“Yes, they are in need of protection.” My husband said soberly not knowing the situation on the other side of the Portal.
“You watch out for them and get well. Maybe in several weeks we will talk.”
We were both weary as we said “Goodbye” to everyone at the refugee center / church/ kitchen/ hospital. I couldn’t think about tomorrow for each of them.
Two of Yevhen’s men half carried me to The Passage. They had returned to tell us that Yevhen had positioned the men to defend Mariople’s people.
The men looked like tired boys to me at that moment.
As we got to the third floor, I knew we were on our own.
“Be careful. This Uri is your enemy.”
My husband checked his pistol for the twentieth time and checked the strap to the rifle on his shoulder.
“We will see you soon.” I gripped their hands not wanting to let go. “Buvaite zdorovi”
They waved as they turned the corner of the hallway on the third floor of the Passage Hotel.
I have never hated goodbyes more than now…
So we say Buvaite zdorovi! (Ukrainian for Be Well / Be healthy) to each of you wonderful A to Z bloggers.
So sorry to leave you at a Time Portal with a War in Ukraine in 2022.
And so dear A to Z friends and Blogging faithfuls we are wrapping this part of “The Passage – A War Time Portal.” We (my husband who journeys with me) and myself will continue to write about people in the war and the world of the Portal. There is another element that we hinted at which is where we will go next.
“The Passage: Resistance in Time.”
“We are potentially entering a portal with a KGB operative. I need to man up.” I knew not to grab the gun from my husband, so I pleaded with my eyes.
The hour hand finally clicked to 3.
“Let’s go then.” My husband handed me the rifle.
We walked forward into 1991 uncertain of what we would face and who would greet us…
Thank you to the A to Z community and each blogger that joins in April.
This is the final letter for the A to Z challenge 2022. This fiction was originally written in 2007 in Odessa, Ukraine. I’ve tweeked it to arrive in 2022 but the elements of a multiaccess portal and a war (the original story had multiple wars) are original. The Passage that is central to this story is a real hotel built in 1880s.
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
Thanks for following a cowgirl on her crazy life journey.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe
Hoping to make the world more beautiful
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