The short story of stones ebook

…because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days ever seen…

JOLANTA POŹNIAK

THE SHORT STORY OF STONES

…because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days already seen…

Thank you for your blessings.

For faith, hope and strength.

For the angels I met on my way.

I bow sincerely.

Anna

…because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days already seen…

- Ania, do you know that whenever I think of you, I can hear the echo of one quote that you read in a poem when you were a teen-ager? It goes: …because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days already seen… Whenever we meet and I complain that I feel lost because of some failure in my life, you smile and comfort me with these words. You give me strength and compassion. Thanks to you I trust that one day… Do you really be-lieve it’s possible?

- Yes, I do.

…because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days already seen…

Translation: Oskar Mazgaj

Proof: Steven Jones

…because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days already seen…

…because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days already seen…

The Cornerstone

Daddy is in a jolly mood today. He was playing some tricks on Mom. She didn’t laugh, though. She went off somewhere. I guess she’d had enough of his mischief. Now he grabs me by my neck and tickles me. I get a quick kiss on my hair. “Let’s play, sweetheart!”

“Will it be a fun game, Daddy?”

I don’t hear the answer. Dad scoops me up like a princess into his long, strong arms. I’m lying on the bed, waiting impatiently for some wonderful surprise. Will it be a crown with shining stones? Will we play kingdom?

Daddy covers me with himself like a duvet. His thick sweater is too rough to the touch. The strands of wool rasp my face. They itch my eyelids. Daddy’s tummy presses into my nose.

What’s this game Daddy has come up with? His frolics hurt me. He puts his pee-pee in my mouth and then takes it out. I feel like I had a mixer inside me. The one that mom uses to make cakes. She sets the speed knob to one, then two, then three, and when the dough is almost ready – four… I can barely breathe… I’m kicking and choking. I don’t like this game. I can’t speak. My whole mouth is stuffed as if somebody was push-ing a stone into it.

In the end, Daddy shoots some liquid on my face. It’s disgusting. Even mint candies taste better than this slurry. Or the milk soup that Mom still feeds me. I hate it, but it’s still better than this. I never ate anything so awful. It doesn’t even taste like smooth raw dough, made at the highest speed, that I seek off Mom’s pan. Daddy rolls off me. I rush to him. I grab him by the legs of his pants. I don’t want him to go yet. I need him to hug me. But he kicks me in my tummy. It whacks into my stomach like a stone. I’m lying on the floor, curled up. I feel smaller. To hell with such games. I prefer spending time with Mrs. Alina, my nanny. Every day, she reads me some fasci-nating tales. I can still hear the echoes of yesterday’s story. By the fireside, on a warm summer night, good fairies caress a small girl. They take turns holding her. They explain to her that she’s going to be kept by an evil wizard. They show her a large rock nearby. They good-naturedly explain to her that her heart will turn into such a rock. She must stop feeling. Stop remembering. Die while still alive. But only for some time. Then, she’ll come back to the world. Richer, but slightly tarred by life. Maybe Daddy needed me to warm him up like a frozen wanderer from the parables that my nanny reads?

…because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days already seen…

…because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days already seen…

Playing Doggies

My Mom and I are visiting Grandma in the countryside. I’m sleeping in a small, colorful cottage. My Mom hides here from Daddy when he’s drunk. It’s so peaceful. I pick berries. I eat them straight from the bush. I like their sour taste. It’s really… revitalizing.

Daddy arrives. He lunges out of his huge car majestically. He’s zigzagging towards Grandma’s house. He’s looking for Mom. He wants her to come back. They’re arguing. Mom doesn’t relent. She stays put.

Daddy catches me in his arms. He puts me in the back seat of his car. He drives off like a maniac. He knows that once I’m in town, Mommy will come home sooner. Maybe even tomorrow.

When we get home, I feel tired. I’m sleepy. Daddy undresses me. When I’m naked he throws me onto the sofa. He tells to me pretend I’m a doggy. Playing doggies? That’s a new one. Do you want me to bark, Daddy?

Daddy helps me to stand like a dog. Then he pushes his pee-pee into my butt. I scream in pain. I howl like a dog but I don’t bark. Daddy’s screwing my pussy. He’s angry with Mom and he pushes his anger into me. Like a stone. “Don’t you tell mom about our game. Only daddies and daughters can play doggies, re-member that!”

I see a dog’s heart on the street. It’s attached to a clothesline with a safety pin. Every-one can get closer and do whatever they want with it. Kick it. Stamp on it like an old newspaper. Spit at it. Throw a stone at it. Play with it like a ball. It’s just a dog’s heart. The dog prays too:

“Dear Lord, please. Let me die. Now. Please.”

…because tomorrow will come and will be more beautiful than all the days already seen…