Lara Biyuts's Blog

October 24, 2016

Tidings from Lara Biyuts, this blog writer.
Something new, something old. Life is beautiful, but Shades Calling, from time to time.
One of my stories is published and available for free on Kindle.
Contemporary, paranormal. Welcome reviewers !

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MF94810



Thanks to my Estonian Facebook friends, I finally found the final resting place of my great grandfather (1887-1956).

http://www.kalmistud.ee/haudi?filter_maetud_eesnimi=Maetu+eesnimi&filter_maetud_perenimi=bijuts&action=maetud&popup=0&yldotsing=1&filter_maetud_kalmistu=


On the Net, for several years, I’ve been looking for my father’s far cousins, namesakes and our surname’s origin, with this last unknown to me as well as to my late father, and I succeeded. In my online research I proceeded from the fact that my great grandfather’s cousins, who lived in St Petersburg, where he lived too, came from villages near the city of Minks and the city of Grodno in Belarus. The name of this village sounds exactly as our surname. The village Biyuts is near the city of Vitebsk.
For my all namesakes. This is what I found on a Belarusian online forum about our surname' origin, information in Russian and Polish, about the village Biyuts in 3 differents spellings:

По книге "Виленская губерния: Полный список населенных мест со статистическими данными о каждом поселении, сост. И.И. Тошкевич, Вильно, 1905г." в деревне Биюти (или, как писали раньше, Биюци) Посоповского общества Мядельской волости Вилейского уезда Виленской губернии проживал 121 человек, из них мужского пола было 45 человек, женского пола - 76 человек. Ближайшая железнодорожная станция, Поставы, находилась в 18 верстах, волостное правление - в 16 верстах. Расстояние до уездного города (Вилейки) - 58 верст, площадь земельных угодий деревни - 143 десятины. Как и повсюду в этих краях, среди жителей деревни были, вероятно, люди православного, римско-католического и иудейского исповедания (последние мне, правда, не встречались; кроме того, о деревне нет упоминания на еврейских поисковых ресурсах). Своей церкви в этой деревне, по-видимому, не было, и я предполагаю, что православные ее жители окормлялись в церкви деревни Груздово, расположенной в паре километров к северо-востоку.
В настоящее время деревня Биюти входит в состав Юнковского сельсовета Поставского района Витебской области Республики Беларусь. В телефонном справочнике Поставского района перечислены только два ее жителя..по телефонной книге в дер. Биюти указаны сейчас две фамилии - Боровко и Мацкевич.
но составлена книга И.И. Иошкевичем. В оригинале написано I.I. Iошкевичем. в 1850 году в дер. Биюци Груздовской плебании Мядзельского с/общества по ревизской сказке числится государственных крестьян 8 мужчин и 12 женщин, при этом всего две фамилии Папко и Петкевич.
В польском списке 1921 года именуется Bijucie (гмина Miadziol Дуниловичского повета).
Деревня Биюти и ее обитатели В межвоенное время принадлежала Польше. wojewodztwo wilenskie Виленское воеводство, powiat postawski Поставский повет, gmina wiejska Hruzdowo гмина сельская Груздово
Виленская губерния была образована в 1795 г. после третьего раздела Речи Посполитой и присоединения к Российской империи литовских и западно-белорусских земель.

forum.vgd
4 ноября 2006 8:22 -- в метриках Юшковичской церкви за 1872 г. мне в восприемниках попадался Игнатий Змеевский из деревни Биюц. Это Вилейский уезд, Мядельская волость.

Груздовская (греко-униатская) церковь, 1836 года (Ф.915 О.1 Д. 23):
4 октября - Фома Мацкевич, вдовец из д. Пожарцев, Лугайский прихожанин, обвенчался с вдовою Юлианою ПОДГАЙСКОЙ из БИЮЦ, Груздовской прихожанкою. Одним их свидетелей был Стефан ПОДГАЙСКИЙ.
8 ноября - Иосиф Змеевский, младенец (так в метрике!) из Груздово, Лугайский прихожанин, обвенчался с девицею Агафией Мословской. Одним из свидетелей был Игнатий ПОДГАЙСКИЙ из БИЮЦ.
К сожалению, в метриках нет ни возраста молодоженов, ни информации об их родителях.

интересным источником, в том числе и генеалогической информации в том числе и по Виленской губернии: Акты, издаваемые Комиссиею Высочайше учрежденною для разбора древних актов в Вильне. - Вильна, 1865-1898
Акты представляют собой 39 томов с документами земских, городских, подкоморских и копных судов Бресткой, Гродненской и Виленской губерний, а также с декретами Главного Литовского Трибунала, а также тематические тома с документами по истории Церковной Унии в России, по истории бывшей Холмской епархии, о литовских боярах, с "инвентарями" ряда имений и т.д.
Практически все тома (начиная с 3-его) снабжены именными, географическими и предметными индексами!!!, что конечно же облегчает поиск.
Тома 8-10 содержат документы (акты, декреты на русском и/или польском/белорусском языках) Виленских Земского и Городского Судов, а также акты Виленского Магистрата и Магдебургии. Каждый том - это приблизительно 150-200 документов за 16-17-18 века.
Тома 11-13 и 15 содержат декреты Главного Литовского Трибунала (до 1686 года).
Том 20 - Акты (1529-1804), касающиеся города Вильны.

7 февраля 2007 - из описанных в оп.1 дд. 3 (1869) - по всем церквям, 4 - 7 (1870-1873) - по Старо-Мядельской и Юшковской. Подгайских неt. В 1872-м в записях по Юшковской ц. есть упоминание прихожанки из д.БИЮЦ, родившей ребенка вне брака, но больше крестьян из этой деревни неt.

This is a picture of the village, 55'' north latitude, 27'' east longitude:


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Published on October 24, 2016 00:45 • 16 views

June 6, 2016

As I said more than once, on different sites, Eric Stanislaus Stenbock (1860-1895) is author of a vampire story, one of the only two which I appreciate. Talking of turnskin stories, I have to say that Stenbock’s story “The Other Side: A Breton Legend” (1893) is one of my two of choice as well. Literature is a matter of taste. Read the story here:
https://onedrive.live.com/view.aspx?cid=ac0c01aafd56c514&page=view&resid=AC0C01AAFD56C514!440&parId=AC0C01AAFD56C514!139&app=Word
The other story of a turnskin is “Lokis” (1869) by Prosper Mérimée (1803-1870). Set in Lithuania, it is the horror story of a man who seems to be half bear and half man. Plot (Wiki): It is set in rural Lithuania. The plot revolves around a young man who is suspected to be half-human half-bear, since he was born after his mother was mauled (and, as believed by peasants, raped) by a bear. The title is a misspelling of Lithuanian lokys for “bear”. As such, the plot may be classified into a werewolf theme. Through the novel, the protagonist, Michel/Lokis, manifests signs of animal-like behavior until he finally kills his bride by a bite to her throat and runs away into the forest on his wedding night. The screen version of the story see here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP-Ctpy9fQI
One of nicest and poetic movies I ever saw. I appreciate it with the careful attitude towards literature and theme.The movie on Horrorpedia:
https://horrorpedia.com/2013/12/16/lokis-aka-lokis-rekopis-profesora-wittembacha/
My “Extraordinary Story of a Turnskin” is available here:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/259119






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Published on June 06, 2016 09:07 • 25 views

June 5, 2016



read fiction by Lara Biyuts
CACTUS FLOWER -- FERN FLOWER
“However, the flower is closely guarded by evil spirits and anyone who finds the flower will have access to earthly riches, which have never benefited anyone, so the decision to pick the flower or leave it alone is left up to the individual.” (Wikipedia)
I
St John’s Eve, by nightfall. The sound of the Moonlight Sonata flowed from the opened window of the Manor. The big old garden was full of dark shadows -- underneath the trees, in the midst of the lush clumps of lilacs, on the lawns and pathways. Light spots of white flowers over the parterre of the house; the dewy grass glittered green in dark. The old house and landscape of the estate, full of crepuscular significance, modern allusions and old legends, seemed awaiting a miracle on the night in the late 19th century.  All windows were opened as well as the paned door to the terrace, but the lit room was the only. The gray limestone house looked white with windowpanes gleaming. Coming into the dark rooms, the moonbeams slid over the walls, cast lacy shadows on the floor and let see that the house was empty. Everyone was out, on the warm night, except the old tutor who feared frogs and dew, and who stayed to play piano in solitude. Jasmines along the front of the house and along the broad staircase. Enjoying the aroma of jasmines, a human figure was standing on the small square between the house and the group of old lime-trees and pines in the beginning of a big alley. The cigar in the human’s hand was almost gone. “What’s become of them all?” the man asked to himself, “Where’re they hanging about?” At that instant, he realized something, turned and went to the alley, leaving the light and music behind.   The sanded path gritted beneath his tread; leaves rustled in the breeze overhead. Darkness underneath the lime-trees, only a glowworm in the grass on the left of the pathway... Lo!  A voice. He heard someone’s saying his name at a distance of a yard. Two or more females talked sitting on a bench, most likely. Only an old lime-tree was between him and the talkers. He paused to listen to. The voice that said his name belonged to Trudy, cousin of his schoolmate on a visit at the Manor; the second belonged to his cousin Eulampia.Eulampia said, “Why to talk about Alex? The question is you. I no longer know what to think of you.”  “I no longer know what to think of myself!..” Trudy said, “Do you think I can think all right?”  “Formerly, your problem was that you could not fall in love with anybody. Now, when you are in love… Are you in love -- once and for all?”  “I am. Once and for all!”   “Why do you do all in your power to show him that you aren’t? Why do you tease him?”   “Do I tease him?”  “You smile. You know that you do. He could fall in love with you…”  “He? In love? With me? Are you sure?” “Why not? But he nicknamed you Cactus Flower.”“Did he?!.. Villain.”“Really, I take your feelings.” “Villain and milksop.”“Trudy, you are moody. If I were you, I’d…”  The lime-tree’s branches rustled, moving like a living creature’s paws.  “Who’s that?!” the talkers said.  Silence. The dark shade was frozen behind the lime-tree. The glowworm was shining green in the grass, with the red light of the thrown out cigar nearby.  The talk resumed. “It all is very nice, but it doesn’t make my problem easier.”  The moonbeam fell on the bench, gliding over the white dresses of the two damsels, making their faces shining white. The dark shade watched them.   A cloud veiled the moon; the alley became dark again. Two white silhouettes on the bench. The talkers’ voices began sounding cheerful.  Trudy said, “I’ve gathered herbs.”  “What kind of herbs?” Eulampia said. “One should gather thirteen kinds of herbs for the night -- keeping silence -- and put the herbs under the pillow. When abed, one should keep silence too. Thinking of anything. If I see him in my sleep, well then… Ah, it’s time!” “What, we are going there together? Nobody else?” Eulampia’s voice rang with notes of hesitation. “Yes, we together. Nobody should know!” Trudy said excitedly.“To the Old Pond?” Eulampia said.  “Yes. We’ll go through the lower gate and leave it open. If they see it, they’ll think we’ve gone to the well. But we’ll go round the Park and then to the Pond.”    “Secretly? All right, but it’s very damp there, and two ditches on the way.”   “There are the best ferns. That’s why the Pond is special! I always believed that there are water-nymphs. Though I don’t believe…”  Silence. The dark shade left the umbrage of the lime-trees and went towards the Manor.
II
Overgrown with reeds, the Old Pond had much water in the center, with the moon’s reflex. Old branchy birch-trees were there on the high side of the Pond, with the thick forest surrounding them and the Pond. Only one meadow spread uphill going towards the estate. Both the Pond and the forest were in a deep hollow, and at the hour, the hollow was full of a silvery steaming mist. In the umbrage of the old birch-trees, two silent shades were so dark and motionless that they could be taken for two stumps or trees. Only the red light of the indispensable cigar betrayed belonging of one of the shades to the great tribe of smokers in general and young smokers in particular. “Here they come, at long last!” the smoker said.  Indeed, a distant snapping of dry twigs got louder; a moment more and light spots of the white dresses appeared on the top of the high Pond side. “How nice! How nice here!” Trudy’s voice cried out.  Eulampia said, “It’s too damp. We have to gather skirts up to knees!”  Someone’s laughter behind the birch-tress.  “Eulampia, did you hear that?”  “No, why?”  “Someone’s laughter.”  “It only seemed to you. Well… Where are we going?”  “To the forest on the other side of the Pond. Wait a moment… I want to take the glowworm. Look at it, how beautiful it glitters, over there, in the sedge!” Trudy came down and leaned over the Pond. It was difficult to get the glowworm, because it was deep in the dewy grass, that’s why Trudy never saw what happened on the top of the Pond side.
III
Hearing a small screech and footfall sound, she thought, “Eulampia stepped on a frog.” Next, it was too quiet around. “Eulampia!” Eulampia’s voice responded from a distance, somewhere in the forest. Trudy cried out, “Where are you going without me?” Silence. The silvery fog swirled over the dark waters, sprawling between the trees, where the fog was unusually white and taking perpetually and fluently various obscure shapes. Some weird shades seemed to get waving into a big garland, moving and rising, seeking to part and fly away. It seemed like a dreadfully white water-nymph could come out of the drowsy waters any time now, twinkle green glassy eyes and begin to shake glittering water drops off her long green tresses. It seemed that a wood-goblin that lurked in the black boughs of the dry birch-tree could start screeching, any minute… But a strange drawling cry was heard in the thicket and died away.  With her pit-a-pat heart, Trudy ran up the Pond side, quickly, though it was somewhat difficult, and she looked round. She was alone. Actually, it seemed to her that a dark shade glimpsed behind a tree – but it could be merely a play of her imagination. A distant screech of an owl. Trudy gave a start and hastened to the forest.She believed Eulampia was on the other side of the Pond where the ferns grew thickly and wonderfully. “To her, to her! It’s fearsome to be here, alone…” It was dark and damp on her way in the forest. Fallen leaves rustled underfoot; the dark starlit sky hardly could be visible between the crowns of old tress. The pathway went through dense thickets. “Eulampia!” her clear voice sounded in the silence of the night. A strange wild screech instead of a reply -- once again, from another side… Trudy ran forward, through the thicket. What’s that? What a fearsome dark figure with an ugly head?.. It’s but an old stump, mossy all over. But… over there, ahead, it’s not a stump. Someone’s standing! Something tall and white is standing motionless and awaiting… The closer, the longer it looks. It cannot be Eulampia or the other human. What it is?.. It’s only a view of a glade between two old aspens!The water-meadow sagged under her feet. Hummocks overgrown with cowberry shrubs and tussocks of fern here and there. A marsh! Sweat dewed her brow. The moon had vanished, and the sky was dark with bright stars. The forest was like a dark wall around; the thick fog was swirling over the glade, and its white streaks flowed towards the forest to disappear between trees. Dozens of glowworms were shining over the moss-grown hummocks. Suddenly, in the silence, a bell rang. The brassy sound came from a distant village. It has announced a beginning of a midnight mass. That’s the midnight, the magic hour when water-nymphs came from dark waters, when the legendary Fern Flower bloomed somewhere in a dense thicket, and when a sly wood-goblin prowled around screeching from time to time… Here, Trudy saw a tall dark shade on the glade. The shade moved. It moved towards her! Getting closer, closer, approaching her! On the instant, at her feet, in the middle of a fern, a bright red sparkle flashed. The Fern Flower? It’s blooming? It’s not but a fib? Fearing to look back, trembling all over, she leaned and held her hand out… “Don’t touch it! It can hurt!” a voice said behind her back.   If it was a wood-goblin’s voice, then the wood-goblin sounded rather familiar. “It’s you?! Nothing more?” she said with notes of irony in her tone. She pretended so skillfully that it did credit to her self-possession, especially at the moments when she was nearly swooning with agitation. The wood-goblin sounded polite and quite himself, when he explained by saying, “I’m forcing my way.”  However, there were no further explanations. The Old Pond proved to be nearby. Both Eulampia and her companion, Alex’s schoolmate, were nearby too, turning up as though from nowhere.“All looked obscure on the weird night, moving in some extraordinary way. Aren’t you ashamed, Eulampia?”  “Why? You should tell where you’ve been!”  “Actually, you are a wrong person to be told about anything.” Alex, the smoker with no cigar, said, “A wood-goblin fooled Trudy.” Trudy said, “Did you drop your nasty cigar into the fern?” He said, “I forced my way -- what was left to me to do, in the shrubs and ferns? Playing pranks on you was an absolute must, tonight. This is the Summer solstice. Joie de vivre.”
The End
more stories is in the book "Crepuscular Rays" by Lara Biyuts :
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/538323
free read :

http://revueblanche.blogspot.com/2015/04/blood-flower.html 



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Published on June 05, 2016 04:20 • 12 views

January 20, 2016

“Two Blue Flowers and One More”   About blue flowers in works by Gustave Meyrink and Novalis, my readers knew.
The novel “Heinrich von Ofterdingen” by Novalis (1772 – 1801) -- a poet, author, and philosopher of early German Romanticism – tells a story of a dream of the Blue Flower. Maybe, a sort of a blue lily, but the author gives the flower some mystic features of a beautiful woman.


Originated in the novel and symbolizing the victory of the poetic over the material, the flower became an emblem for German Romanticism.
http://www.amazon.com/Henry-von-Ofterdingen-Romance-Editions/dp/0486795772
The short story “Cardinal Napellus” by Gustav Meyrink (1868 – 1932) -- an Austrian author, most famous for his novel “The Golem” -- tells about the other blue flower, quite real. Aconitum napellus, or monkshood, the poisonous plant has flowers dark purple to bluish-purple, helmet-shaped.


In the short story, the flower is a human tall, with steel-blue flowers. One of personages, an old man of the name of Radspieler tells about his life:
“In our neck of the woods, there is one religious sect Blue Fraters whose members bury each other alive when feeling the nearness of death. The building of their friary is still standing, with the blazon carved in stone above the entrance: the poisonous plant with five blue petals and the upper one looking like a monk’s hood -- Aconitum napellus – wolfsbane.I joined the friary when I was a young man, and I left it in the twilight of my life.The friary precincts have a garden – there is a bed of the mentioned poisonous plant, and in summer the monks water the flowers with blood from wounds received during the scourging. Joining the friary, everyone plans the flower, which is to be given a Christian name like of baptism. My flower bore the name of Jerome and it fed on my blood, while I pined for a miracle, for years and in vain, waiting for the Invisible Gardener who could wash the roots of my life with a drop of water.The baptism of blood. The symbolic meaning of this weird ritual suggests that a human is to plant his own soul in the Garden of Eden and to assist in its growing by watering with blood of desires. A legend has it that the first wolfsbane sprang up -- a human tall, flowery all over – on the grave mound of the founder of this ascetic sect, the legendary Cardinal Napellus, on a clear night. When they opened the coffin they saw there was not his dead body inside. They say that the saint turned into the plant, and all wolfsbanes came from it.”
http://www.amazon.com/other-stories-Dedalus-European-Classics-ebook/dp/B008SWZOZS
Gustave Meyrink’s quotes:
“Read the sacred writings of all the peoples on Earth. Through all of them runs, like a red thread, the hidden Science of attaining and maintaining wakefulness.” (Gustave Meyrink)
“Man is firmly convinced that he is awake; in reality he is caught in a net of sleep and dreams which he has unconsciously woven himself.” (Gustave Meyrink)
Now, about the third blue flower. The author, who added it to the previous two, was this writer. The anchusa azurea is the Blue Flower of my paranormal fiction “Extraordinary Story of a Turnskin”.


Set in a trans-Carpathian land the story about the Turnskin may be dated 18th century, but this medley of events, pictures and scenes could happen much earlier. New, stylish and truly ancient, the story suggests one more theory of werewolves’ origin.
http://www.amazon.com/Extraordinary-Story-Turnskin-Lara-Biyuts-ebook/dp/B00EVTP9ZC


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Published on January 20, 2016 06:05 • 44 views

January 15, 2016

About gifts.

Please, read the humorous tale by Anton Chekhov (1860-1904)
"A Work Of Art"

Sasha Smirnov, the only son of his mother, holding under his arm, something wrapped up in No. 223 of the Financial News, assumed a sentimental expression, and went into Dr. Koshelkov's consulting-room.

"Ah, dear lad!" was how the doctor greeted him. "Well! how are we feeling? What good news have you for me?"

Sasha blinked, laid his hand on his heart and said in an agitated voice: "Mamma sends her greetings to you, Ivan Nikolaevitch, and told me to thank you. . . . I am the only son of my mother and you have saved my life . . . you have brought me through a dangerous illness and . . . we do not know how to thank you."

"Nonsense, lad!" said the doctor, highly delighted. "I only did what anyone else would have done in my place."

"I am the only son of my mother . . . we are poor people and cannot of course repay you, and we are quite ashamed, doctor, although, however, mamma and I . . . the only son of my mother, earnestly beg you to accept in token of our gratitude . . . this object, which . . . An object of great value, an antique bronze. . . . A rare work of art."

"You shouldn't!" said the doctor, frowning. "What's this for!"

"No, please do not refuse," Sasha went on muttering as he unpacked the parcel. "You will wound mamma and me by refusing. . . . It's a fine thing . . . an antique bronze. . . . It was left us by my deceased father and we have kept it as a precious souvenir. My father used to buy antique bronzes and sell them to connoisseurs . . . Mamma and I keep on the business now."

Sasha undid the object and put it solemnly on the table. It was a not very tall candelabra of old bronze and artistic workmanship. It consisted of a group: on the pedestal stood two female figures in the costume of Eve and in attitudes for the description of which I have neither the courage nor the fitting temperament. The figures were smiling coquettishly and altogether looked as though, had it not been for the necessity of supporting the candlestick, they would have skipped off the pedestal and have indulged in an orgy such as is improper for the reader even to imagine.

Looking at the present, the doctor slowly scratched behind his ear, cleared his throat and blew his nose irresolutely.

"Yes, it certainly is a fine thing," he muttered, "but . . . how shall I express it? . . . it's . . . h'm . . . it's not quite for family reading. It's not simply decolleté but beyond anything, dash it all. . . ."

"How do you mean?"

"The serpent-tempter himself could not have invented anything worse. . . . Why, to put such a phantasmagoria on the table would be defiling the whole flat."

"What a strange way of looking at art, doctor!" said Sasha, offended. "Why, it is an artistic thing, look at it! There is so much beauty and elegance that it fills one's soul with a feeling of reverence and brings a lump into one's throat! When one sees anything so beautiful one forgets everything earthly. . . . Only look, how much movement, what an atmosphere, what expression!"

"I understand all that very well, my dear boy," the doctor interposed, "but you know I am a family man, my children run in here, ladies come in."

"Of course if you look at it from the point of view of the crowd," said Sasha, "then this exquisitely artistic work may appear in a certain light. . . . But, doctor, rise superior to the crowd, especially as you will wound mamma and me by refusing it. I am the only son of my mother, you have saved my life. . . . We are giving you the thing most precious to us and . . . and I only regret that I have not the pair to present to you. . . ."

"Thank you, my dear fellow, I am very grateful . . . Give my respects to your mother but really consider, my children run in here, ladies come. . . . However, let it remain! I see there's no arguing with you."

"And there is nothing to argue about," said Sasha, relieved. "Put the candlestick here, by this vase. What a pity we have not the pair to it! It is a pity! Well, good-bye, doctor."

After Sasha's departure the doctor looked for a long time at the candelabra, scratched behind his ear and meditated.

"It's a superb thing, there's no denying it," he thought, "and it would be a pity to throw it away. . . . But it's impossible for me to keep it. . . . H'm! . . . Here's a problem! To whom can I make a present of it, or to what charity can I give it?"

After long meditation he thought of his good friend, the lawyer Uhov, to whom he was indebted for the management of legal business.

"Excellent," the doctor decided, "it would be awkward for him as a friend to take money from me, and it will be very suitable for me to present him with this. I will take him the devilish thing! Luckily he is a bachelor and easy-going."

Without further procrastination the doctor put on his hat and coat, took the candelabra and went off to Uhov's.

"How are you, friend!" he said, finding the lawyer at home. "I've come to see you . . . to thank you for your efforts. . . . You won't take money so you must at least accept this thing here. . . . See, my dear fellow. . . . The thing is magnificent!"

On seeing the bronze the lawyer was moved to indescribable delight.

"What a specimen!" he chuckled. "Ah, deuce take it, to think of them imagining such a thing, the devils! Exquisite! Ravishing! Where did you get hold of such a delightful thing?"

After pouring out his ecstasies the lawyer looked timidly towards the door and said: "Only you must carry off your present, my boy. . . . I can't take it. . . ."

"Why?" cried the doctor, disconcerted.

"Why . . . because my mother is here at times, my clients . . . besides I should be ashamed for my servants to see it."

"Nonsense! Nonsense! Don't you dare to refuse!" said the doctor, gesticulating. "It's piggish of you! It's a work of art! . . . What movement. . . what expression! I won't even talk of it! You will offend me!"

"If one could plaster it over or stick on fig-leaves . . . "

But the doctor gesticulated more violently than before, and dashing out of the flat went home, glad that he had succeeded in getting the present off his hands.

When he had gone away the lawyer examined the candelabra, fingered it all over, and then, like the doctor, racked his brains over the question what to do with the present.

"It's a fine thing," he mused, "and it would be a pity to throw it away and improper to keep it. The very best thing would be to make a present of it to someone. . . . I know what! I'll take it this evening to Shashkin, the comedian. The rascal is fond of such things, and by the way it is his benefit tonight."

No sooner said than done. In the evening the candelabra, carefully wrapped up, was duly carried to Shashkin's. The whole evening the comic actor's dressing-room was besieged by men coming to admire the present; the dressing-room was filled with the hum of enthusiasm and laughter like the neighing of horses. If one of the actresses approached the door and asked: "May I come in?" the comedian's husky voice was heard at once: "No, no, my dear, I am not dressed!"

After the performance the comedian shrugged his shoulders, flung up his hands and said: "Well what am I to do with the horrid thing? Why, I live in a private flat! Actresses come and see me! It's not a photograph that you can put in a drawer!"

"You had better sell it, sir," the hairdresser who was disrobing the actor advised him. "There's an old woman living about here who buys antique bronzes. Go and enquire for Madame Smirnov . . . everyone knows her."

The actor followed his advice. . . . Two days later the doctor was sitting in his consulting-room, and with his finger to his brow was meditating on the acids of the bile. All at once the door opened and Sasha Smirnov flew into the room. He was smiling, beaming, and his whole figure was radiant with happiness. In his hands he held something wrapped up in newspaper.

"Doctor!" he began breathlessly, "imagine my delight! Happily for you we have succeeded in picking up the pair to your candelabra! Mamma is so happy. . . . I am the only son of my mother, you saved my life. . . ."

And Sasha, all of a tremor with gratitude, set the candelabra before the doctor. The doctor opened his mouth, tried to say something, but said nothing: he could not speak.

http://www.online-literature.com/anton_chekhov/1194/

Next, please, confer, seeing the picture --
below, one of cartoons by Herluf Bidstrup (1912-1988) "Return of the Gift"


Personally I love both the tale and cartoon. NB: Herluf Bidstrup was a Commie of Denmark, but I always appreciated his art. For my part, I want all Commies and leftists to go to hell, but I did what I wanted by publishing this blog post, for the sake of history, and because it's funny and the cartoon is chucklesome. Thank you for reading.


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Published on January 15, 2016 07:34 • 11 views

December 11, 2015


Wishing you the Christmas of your dreams... and may your New Year be a joyful one.


About the picture, above. Artist: V. A. Tropinin (1776 - 1857). Woman at the Window, or A Treasurer's Wife as an illustration to the poem by Mikhail Lermontov -- Женщина в окне, или Казначейша по поэме Лермонтова Тамбовская Казначейша. Имя персонажа поэмы Авдотья Николавна Бобковская. Prototype of the personage is Countess Maria Razumovsky (1772 — 1865) lady in waiting, whose lover 'won' her from her husband in the game of cards. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%A0%D0%B0%D0%B7%D1%D0%BC%D0%BE%D0%B2%D1%D0%BA%D0%B0%D1%8F,_%D0%9C%D0%B0%D1%D0%B8%D1%8F_%D0%D1%D0%B8%D0%B3%D0%BE%D1%D1%8C%D0%B5%D0%B2%D0%BD%D0%B0


My tale "Eric's Wonderful Quest" is available at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/595873


The fans of my historical paranormal "A Handful of Blossoms" get positively crazy.) Fancy that! They think of the book at ‪#‎datingclubs‬ ! (See the picture above)  The novella is available at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/168036


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Published on December 11, 2015 09:50 • 11 views

November 19, 2015


The roseleaves flutter, pouring his hands, face, clothes, the roseleaves cover all around him. Rosy, white, crimson,  they flutter, flutter, flutter. He feels like catching them, feeling their queer tenderness on his skin, fluttering and whirling along with them, throwing them up -- as though it all will be always. As though it all was always. As though the whole world was made for him, and he for the world. And the world goes round whirlling along with him. ‘Porphyro! Do you like the flowers?’ Running out of the spectral rain of the fragrant roseleaves, he felt like taking a hand of a stranger in his to feel a glow and realize impossibility to understand. ‘They are beautiful, aren’t they?’‘Yes, Lysander, the flowers of your mother are beautiful.’ ‘But they are not hers! They are the world’s. They are yours. And mine.’ A touch to the face -- he runs with fingers over the cheek, plays the hair, takes the hand in his. ‘Come along, Porphyro, I’ll show you they are ours.’At rare moments like this, Porphyro’s brown eyes become a teeny bit warmer, a teeny bit closer, and Lysander believes that another moment Porphyro comes to believe that the flowers are theirs. And the sky is theirs. And the world is theirs. And they are the world’s, and not the Empress Flavia’s, despite she is the Empire itself. ‘Porphyro, do you think I can endear anybody?’‘I think yes, Lysander.’ ‘If I’ll be able to escape from the Empress? If I’ll be able to save myself to remain for ever one?’ ‘You will, if you wish.’  ‘Will I be happy with the one who I endear? With the one who will endear me?’ ‘Yes, Lysander, it will be so.’  Another touch to the cheek. ‘Thank you, Porphyro. Thank you for your belief… A heap of leaves flatly flies about between those who feel certain that they know a truth about me. Through the foliage…’Lysander disregarded the words, which Favorinus addressed to him lately. The man’s chief claim to fame was his awesome oracles. The men like Favorinus did not live long. Lysander disregarded his cousins’ laughter, and he noticed neither the surprised-contemptuous eyes of the courtiers nor the puzzled talks of the tutors. He merely saw the light. On the night. In his own eyes. In the eyes of others, if the light was there. But the light was not there largely. There was only emptiness, odd, compelling, which was not within him. Was that not enough?  Everyone around him talked of something. Cornelius Fronto with his ornate style (Lysander had nearly forgotten those names: Ulpii, Aelii) and everyone was perturbed about the same delicate circumstance; everyone would like to find that little boy sooner than the Emperor would do it. But nothing had changed to Lysander, unless his birthday crept up to, every month, every day, every minute. Lysander was looking at himself in a mirror and he understood more and more clearly: soon he would be no more. And nobody would have time to endear him. And he would not have time to endear anybody. Everything at the damned ceremony would be smashed to smithereens -- and he would be no more. But the story of the Aelii gave him a chance to escape, survive, remain for ever one -- to be alive. Lysander should seize the chance. As soon as the hunt for the young Aurelius had begun, Lysander and Porphyro escaped from the Palace. But only Lysander knew that they escaped. For the Empress, they just departed to Baiae. The chance should be seized -- and this instant he might remember of it no longer, putting it out of his head, going on living to see the light… Today he again, as it used to be long ago, feels free. He has done something, and the damnation has quieted down. Again he does not know what he has ahead of him, he does not know his tomorrow. That’s great. True, the uncertainty is an extraordinary feeling. It’s like some cold somewhere deep in one’s heart, the cold of a beginning panic. But he felt able to manage with it. He knows: a wind is with him again, which is so good. Let the stone jungles of the Great City be around him, but his old friend is with him again. The dark-haired, statuesque boy, he has come, he has responded to Lysander’s call. Both of them know the sense of freedom, the sense of absolute danger, when they must draw up, ready to do anything, when red flags and loud cries of hunters could be beyond the next hill. Let it be. He’s ready today. As for in the future – all’s on the scales of the Fates. May his scale outweigh.
the end of the excerptRead more in the novelForever Jocelyn http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/30041

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Published on November 19, 2015 10:03 • 5 views

October 4, 2015

The Black Obelisk for Evil Empire
Gothic fun. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Moreover, someone’s confrontation to KGB as a gothic fun. Read the report. 19 September, 2015. A city in Russia. By night. Something surrealistic. A lot of tough men wearing dark jackets with corpses in arms, tilted forwards, are fussing about the city on the night. It’s local undertakers’ offices began fighting with ROC (Russian Orthodox Church) which is a branch of KGB, in Russia, nowadays.The story began in 2010, when the square of ground, next to the building of the regional Bureau of Forensic Medical Examination, was allotted to the Eparchy of ROC for free using and construction of a “small shrine”. True, the clerics built the shrine, but they built an edifice in addition -– the hall for parting “Ascension” -- which looked like an undertaker’s office. This object of capital construction, ROC registered the square of ground as their property and enthusiastically started fighting with rivals.The Bureau of Forensic Medical Examination was sandwiched between buildings of the local Hospital and Scientific Research Institute. Initially the Hospital forbade undertakers to use the territory of the Hospital for carrying dead bodies. After the Hall “Ascension” was built, the Bureau became partitioned off from the civilized world, because ROC’s Hall “Ascension” blocked access to the Bureau’s mortuary. So, the Bureau is sandwiched between the Hospital and the new building of the privileged undertaker’s office that refused to let the Bureau the servitude. The Hospital states that this kind of activity with dead bodies is a bad influence on inhabitants, and the funeral mafia of the “Ascension” asks 5000 roubles for each transportation – in other words, for each carrying a dead body through its own territory. The Bureau of Forensic Medical Examination is a conveyor working day and night, the work cannot be stopped, which plays into the hands of the bandits wearing funeral garments, who seek to earn by this.Now, on the night of 19 September, 2015, the Mortuary is besieged. The riotous undertakers are about to take the “Ascension” by assault. Fussing about with corpses in arms, they look uncanny, but everything looks uncanny on the night, and they are going to camp out.Funeral vehicle drivers came unstuck. They are to bring dead bodies to medical examiners of the Bureau and take dead bodies away to funerals. On the night, they have an especially large “lot of goods”: about 40 dead bodies are to be taken from the Mortuary of the Bureau of Forensic Medical Examination and about 20 dead bodies are to be brought to. But fences and security guard there are on all sides. Undertakers on foot with stretchers in hands are forbidden to enter too. By 20:00, at the entrance to the territory of the Hall “Ascension”, 3 hearses come and block the gates. All 3 contain dead bodies. 10 hearses more are parked in nearby yards and on sides of the street. About 50 tough men who earn on transport operations with corpses gather in a mob in front of the security cabin. From the Hall “Ascension”, 5 men of the security guard come up to the fence and the cabin. A woman wants to get her relative’s dead body, which she is to get from the Bureau of Forensic Medical Examination, but she is stopped by a man who introduces himself as the chief of the “Ascension” security.Indignant, undertakers are noisy, bridling at and trying the strength of the fence; the security men sullenly snarl at them; the dead humans are silent and stinking. The point is that some undertakers’ offices are unable to deliver dead bodies to the mortuary of the Bureau of Forensic Medical Examination over the last several days because of the conflict. No refrigerators; the corpses are decomposing in the cars. The air is stinky.Besides the undertakers, there are relatives of the deceased in the mob at the entrance to the territory of the “Ascension”. One woman came to get her late mother’s dead body for taking it to a funeral.While everyone mobs and quarrels at the “Ascension”, the gumptious woman and her friends get over the fence to the territory of Eye Microsurgery; next, she climbs over into the territory of the Bureau of Forensic Medical Examination, where she gets the dead body of her late mother. She and her friends with the dead body in hands come out through the besieged entrance. The security guard of the “Ascension” never stops her; now, the dead body is placed in a car and taken away.Seeing the security men are impossible to be talked into, the mob of undertakers divides into groups. Some of them are on duty at the entrance, not allowing the security men to relax. Some go to buy hot coffee. Coffee for everyone. The undertakers make fun by saying that it’s time to camp out and create their own maidan. There are representatives of different undertakers’ offices in the mob, rivals, but in the face of the common enemy, these semi-criminal looking men, yesterday rivals, are quick to league together. While the mob has coffee, a wizard works on the numerous video cameras on posts along the perimeter inside the territory of the “Ascension”. The reliable God for reliable clients.From time to time, representatives of undertakers’ offices move aside to hold a conference – developing a common strategy. No sense of being lost or losing heart, in the mob. All those present are sure that they will deliver their dead load, tonight, and get what they are to get. No one has any doubts about that. Discussed variants are various: from bribery to assault. This last is discussed openly and in earnest – so much that the policemen, who hear this, feel ill at ease. The policemen are 5, 2 men of traffic police, 5 security men of the “Ascension”, who are uncertain about their wish to fight. Аnd they have 50 tough hot undertakers, who look like sad troublemakers who used to be in conflict with the law more than once.But the mob of undertakers is thinning out, for the talks round into a plan. Most of the cars go away and begin circling the area of the city. In search of a trapdoor. The rest undertakers remain waiting, having coffee and distracting police and security guard of the “Ascension”.By 23:00, at the entrance to the territory of the “Ascension” there are only 3 hearses, those blocking the entrance. Undertakers sayin undertones: a trapdoor is found! To be more exact, the trapdoor is hand-made on the side of a street between the Hospital and Eye Microsurgery.The trapdoor opens into the Hospital’s territory, where there is a parking lot with barrier. As some undertakers said afterwards, in the still of the night, one of the hearses managed to slip under the barrier, going after a car. According to others, the drivers simply raised the barrier and drove into the territory of the Hospital, where they found the gates – which got broken for some reason – and went to the desired Mortuary of medical examiners.After these actions, the security guard of the Hospital decides that the lesser evil is to give corridor for the undertakers. True, the security guard has called several cars of a private security company, but it looks like it’s for their own security. The men of the private security company don’t hasten to fight with the groups of hot undertakers; they merely remain to look after the hotness. Meanwhile, at a distance of a couple of meters, the unloading and loading of the hearses is in full swing.The handling looks like this. A hearse stops nearby the barrier and is quickly unloaded, with dead bodies being placed on the ground. The crew of the hearse quickly place the bodies on stretchers or tarpaulin, often two dead bodies at the same time. Next, the undertakers take their cargo and run. The distance from the barrier to the Mortuary is a kilometer – in the dark, on the uneven, bumpy road, with a corpse in hands.Some of undertakers manage to enter the territory by their own cars. Hearses cannot be let in, but the Land Rover is allowed to do it. 4 dead bodies are placed in the car and taken away from the Mortuary. But the most of dead bodies do this journey by stretchers in hands of walking undertakers. The dead body bearers pant, on the move, mutter curses, stumble in the dark, but they don’t let a corpse out.The dead bodies are sorted out on the move — on the ground. A moment more and the dead bodies are taken away: some to the Mortuary, some to cars. A heap of black bags on the ground at the desired chambers below ground. Some of the bags are carried to the Mortuary; some from the Mortuary. Some of the black bags are ready for packing dead bodies which will be mourned at funerals, tonight, in case if undertakers manage to deliver the bodies. Deliver it, get it, take it, and run. Mutual aid between undertakers: the yesterday rivals friendly help each other to carry dead bodies tonight. They say that the main point is not to confuse corpses and hearses. Fighting with the mafia of ROC. Next day, the trapdoor is blocked by soldiers in the territory of the Hospital. Soldiers guard all doors and holes that can let undertakers in. Soldiers lock up the gates, which were available a day ago. A lot of policemen came to the area to keep order. By night, the surroundings of the regional Bureau of Forensic Medical Examination is filled with hearses again. The ranks of undertakers have decreased in number since last night. From 50 to 20. Reconnoitring the terrain and comparing the strength, men of undertakers’ offices renounce the use of force — too many policemen. Then, undertakers decide to do it otherwise.To representatives of the “Ascension”, they say, “You don’t allow us to carry dead bodies through your territory? Do it yourselves.” With that, at 21:00, they place the first dead body at the gates. This turn confuse the security men as well as the policemen on duty who watch from afar. They use theirmobiles toask theirbosses. Using the hesitation in the ranks of policemen and the “Ascension” security guard, undertakers take the second corpse out of the hearse and place it nearby the first. Next, the undertakers thrust both corpses underneath the gates to the territory of the “Ascension”. Proper documents are in each of the black bags with corpses. The “Ascension” security men are offered to carry the dead bodies to the Bureau of Forensic Medical Examination. But the men refuse.  The bags with corpses prevent cars from entering the territory of the “Ascension”. Policemen don’t let thrust the third corps in the gates. The policemen want to take bosses of the transport operations to the police office. As their collaborators told afterwards, one of the detained was imputed rebellion against police. Now, unloading dead bodies at the gates of the “Ascension” is stopped. To the gates of the “Ascension”, a van is sent. The policemen put 13 detained men of undertakers’ offices in the van. Only 2 of the men are let go, because the two show their identity cards. All the rest are taken into custody till their identity is determined.By 23:00, a group of policemen arrive upon the scene – they came to register 2 dead bodies at the gates. After examination and photographing, the corpses are placed in a hearse of the “Ascension”. The dead humans’ lot remained obscure, but they reached the mortuary, most probably. Thus, the next night confrontation comes to an end. Depressed, the undertakers depart, muttering curses. Policemen leave the scene too. AfterwordSome say that ROC is not guilty, and that merchants are those who have built up all the area. But the cadastral map, on open access, reads the purpose the square of ground was marked out for. The Eparchy asked the land for construction of a shrine with a hall for parting. “In fact, they have a real undertaker’s office. I never saw parishioners coming to the Hall Ascension,” the head of the city administration said.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯








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Published on October 04, 2015 11:01 • 30 views

September 11, 2015

jio

Some experts say that if we want to see the face of Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci (1503–1505/1507) turning, we should look at the head of St Anne in the picture The Virgin and Child with St Anne by Leonardo (c. 1510). The same face, they say.
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/441878
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/30327  
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Published on September 11, 2015 10:30 • 8 views

August 16, 2015

‪#‎Halloween‬ ‪#‎winterholiday‬ ‪#‎mystery‬ ‪#‎literature‬ ‪#‎coupons‬ 
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/262541
Anyone who buys a copy of my Beyond Silver Threads Spinner, and then emails me at larisabee@yahoo.com, I'll email you back with a free copy of my winter-tale Playing White, mystery, 11 880 words, in a PDF: 
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/264429
Winter season. Winter holidays. Playing white chess. My 11880-word short story Playing white is set in St Petersburg. The main personage is Oscar Maria Graf, globe-trotter and younger contemporary of Oscar Wilde. A Stenbock-like figure, by his origin and his dabbling in literature, Oscar Graf is much hotter, more active and of greater vitality than Eric Stenbock (1860-1895) who is no more, by the time of the story. Time: the first year of Wilde’s imprisonment. On the Christmas eve, Oscar and his boyfriend Felix receive some news which whirls them away to a mystery of the past. All personages are aged 20+. Happy ending.
Thanks and enjoy! Author, larisabee@yahoo.com

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Published on August 16, 2015 05:16 • 11 views