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defenseless that he simply could not afford the slightest weakness. “I know you're tired, but we need to move.” Let's go along the forest, there must be a road somewhere.
We walked at random, trying to stay away from the croaking swamp, until we saw a barely noticeable path among the rare trees. Barely rearranging their feet, they got out into a small clearing, where a small hut was perched next to a large tree, with neatly folded firewood along the wall. Katya sank to the ground in exhaustion, unable to rise to reach the house. Her gaze was empty, her condition was close to swooning, and she could barely make out the words the guy was saying.
- Katya, well, just hold on a bit, I also have no strength left, - Lyosha pulled her up, lifting her from her knees. With weakened hands, he pressed the girl to himself, helping to walk, each time he picked up when she started to crawl to the ground. Her legs refused to obey, and she slid down the wall as she touched the wall of the house. Alex sat next, leaning on the wall of the house. The eyelids were heavy, clouding their thoughts and dragging them to sleep, and unable to move anymore, they fell into darkness.
***
A gentle ray of the morning sun ran through her hair and touched Katya's eyelashes. She opened her eyes, with the consciousness of the unreal world surrounding her, creeping out of sleep. Next to her, leaning against a wall, a guy slept soundly asleep. Rubbing her face with her palms and brushing off the remnants of sleep, she rose and looked around the clearing. Her stomach grumbled a displeased tune, and she headed for the door of the house looking for food. The door opened, creaking rusty hinges and inviting guests. Walking over a modest dwelling, she sighed. I really wanted to eat, but the hospitable house was empty. Only a table with a chair and a small bed in the corner are all that Katya was able to find here.
Opening his eyes to the sun, Alexey glanced along the wall and, without finding his companion, listened to the sounds of the forest. A quiet song was heard nearby, more like a cat purr. Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw a slender figure, in the halo of sunlight. She was like a little fairy from a fairy tale, with a palm full of strawberries. And rising, with the grace of a leopard, he headed towards her.
Katya shuddered in surprise and almost dropped the berries when Alexey's hand touched her shoulder.
- Eat some. That's all I could find - and she handed him a juicy strawberry, on her palm.
Gently hugging her around the waist, the guy began to mouth picking berries from her hand, sometimes touching the thankful kisses of her fingers. Covered eyes, intermittent breathing and teeth stuck in her lip, gave out the feelings that she felt from these touches.
The berries fell under their feet and their lips touched their lips.
- You - beautiful, said a kiss.
- You - a fairy tale, said the touch of hands.
- You - a miracle, said look.
Clothes, like the skin of a snake, slipped on the grass. And Lesha admired the beauty of her body as a goddess, in the golden glitter of the sun, with an insane smile from the discoverer who discovered an unknown fairy-tale country.
All the love, all the admiration, all the tenderness that he was capable of, he gave her, this girl, who was like a dream from which you do not want to break out, transforming the world around you into a magical country with unearthly feelings. Their moans were sweeter than nectars, their touches carried bliss, their kisses were hot fire.
The twitter of birds and the rustle of leaves - they sang a song of love, and the wind - caressed the bodies, and the sun - smiled, looking at them.
***
Alexey walked along the path, hugging the shoulders of a girl who was chirping all the way in admiration of nature around, and smiled a blissful smile, watching her.
Toward evening, they took to the road that leaves for the city.The city is like a foreign country, people you don’t notice, and there were only eyes near which it’s impossible to tear off your eyes.
The train, which was taking it away, started off from the apron - and it was burned by a thought that was beating with electricity, which made it howl. "I, idiot, well, why did I not write down her number?"
And, he saw eyes, near the closed doors, staring at him desperately.
“Telephone, how did I forget?”
The train picked up speed, breaking the thread that bound them, but leaving hope that there is always room for a miracle in life.
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Nice syllable, good description. Bravo. Solid dozen.
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Thank, :-))
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I'm 10 for the time being. For my taste, in some places too sweet. But the story is certainly very worthy. I did not expect such an ending, everything seemed to be conducive to a complete and unconditional HE. But no. Surprised. They brought a touch of surprise, a certain melodrama, gave the opportunity to readers to dream.
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Thank you for the comments. In the continuation of this series, the sweetness will die.)))
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very touched
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Glad you liked it. Thank you for responding :-))
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spelling.
Exupery, "Dumas" Shukshina, "walk through the scaffold." But, IMHO, you did not succeed.
there is power in the language, and it is possible to break through to it, albeit very clumsily.
I did not put anything.
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I am not trying to be equal with Exupery, although I grew up with his works. I am not a writer, and all this is just a pen test. But, I'm glad you said it. I'm glad that you liked something. Maybe I can still write something more worthwhile.
Thank:))
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you have to suffer a lot to write well
I get out too - no way. frankly, disgusting.
This is all because I suffer a little, I think little, I give a little to grab myself to being, and I am cluttering up my attention with some sort of shit.
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Suffering is enough, even I would like to diminish. Simply, I have not yet found the correct form to express feelings, emotions and sensations.))))) This needs to be learned.
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Stavrogin is a bit wrong :).
Spelling is fine. Syntax and punctuation is another matter: this is the very technical side to work on. But here you just need attention and patience, not more ...
As for the story itself ... Ptah, very good. True. It is touching, cute, somewhat naive, but that is exactly what is cute. Already more confident ...
Gentle fluff becomes wings,
Eyes rush to the sky.
The term will come - and break out above the houses
Bird's bold and cheeky star.
And, from the admiration of mute,
Will be watching the flight
Bird's unsolved comet
Those who are not destined to fly ...
I put you 10. One point - in advance :). Do not lower hands, dare - and everything will turn out. Already - it turns out, and not bad ... Even some of the excessive sweetness that Marina felt in some places (especially in the scene in the forest) is, in principle, appropriate in the categories you have chosen. The main thing is not to abuse it, this sweetness :).
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Cheered.
The first half was written long ago, but the rest - just. The mood was like that. It was written on its own, without delay on considering the phrases, therefore it turned into something romantic and sweet, corresponding to the mood.
Your poems very much, for which a special thanks.)))))
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I will join Sergey’s opinion. The text itself is very good. Gentle, easy, with feeling.Yes, in some places with punctuation we have won over) However, I rated it to the top ten. Firstly, the punctuation of the weather does not do if the text is a miracle, and secondly, show me at least one who is flawless in it?) As for the sweetness, Nefertiti is a sweet tooth))) This is what I really get)
Added to favorites.
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Thank you, Nefertiti! At yesterday's party, you really missed.
Thank you for your feedback.))
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The time difference) Alas, I do not meet)))
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Readers highly appreciated your sincere mood, but make no mistake. In the words of Mr. Pornographer: "Ruby estimate in half and you will not be mistaken." Maybe half and bust, but your advance - two, three points. And, of course, the grammar textbook is waiting for you. If you need details, if you please in PM.
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Ready to listen. Thanks for the honest evaluation.
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10
Without any advances. This is exactly what I call the Romantic love poem. Of course youth is naive. She is young. But she is pure in her love and aspirations.
It is in such Lyoshka that I recognize myself in my youth. And I was exactly the same idiot forgot to write down the number, though a landline phone, and even better the address. Then to come unexpectedly to visit ...
And in Katyusha crazy girl with whom he met at the cottage. The truth is on the few kisses in our case then did not come. So what. The gangsters did not chase us. But I treated her to strawberries, which she ate from my palms ...
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Thank)))
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Once the critics asked, I will allow myself to express myself, since I liked the whole story.
1. IMHO, too hasty heroes pulled to each other. More precisely, they wanted each other literally from the threshold :) It happens, of course, but not convinced. I would have pulled a little rubber in the beginning.
2. Like Marina, I am too sweet in eros. I want a little less romance and more expression and sensuality. Although, it seems to be not for me to blame you for this))))
3. The scene in the house where they intend to have sex. Personally, I did not have enough emotions of fear of the girl, adrenaline and, as a result, surging gratitude to the guy. But this is only my IMHO.
What is the opposite like.
Multiplicity of plot and, in general, lack of control. Everything was waiting for a fight, violence, a miracle, and other patterns, but she did not guess :) It seems that the overall picture and stamp, and the details varied.
The mood and aftertaste of the story. Light, clean, pleasant to the eye and heart.
I think you started writing recently and have not yet filled your hand. I wish to continue and will be very, very :)
I did not give a rating, so as not to lower the rating, but I would give 7-8 points.
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Thank you for responding. I wrote, mostly for myself, I was afraid to take out to the general court. But it seemed to be wrong. I accept and understand all criticism, I will try to take it into account in the future. Only here, the time for writing is less. The work season begins. I am a landscape painter, spring is a period of difficult preparation for further work. So, if I post, then - no more than one story. And then - the pipe. There will be no time.
Thanks again for everything.
Regards, Ptah.
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Sorry, for the repetition of the text, the mouse sometimes double-click gives out.
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Nothing wrong. Good luck in your work and stories :)
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Thank you for responding. I wrote, mostly for myself, I was afraid to take out to the general court. But it seemed to be wrong. I accept and understand all criticism, I will try to take it into account in the future. Only here, the time for writing is less. The work season begins. I am a landscape painter, spring is a period of difficult preparation for further work. So, if I post, then - no more than one story. And then - the pipe. There will be no time.
Thanks again for everything.
Regards, Ptah.
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Yeah-hh! it was cool! thank))
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:-))
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Honey, what are you doing on this site? There are rude and perverts. Wonderful story
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Let's just say - learning to write. Sometimes I try to communicate. This is an unusual site, register and you will understand everything yourself.
Thank you for the feedback)))
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And I liked everything)))
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My smile is for you. The story was written late at night, in a state of fainting from lack of sleep. Laid out at 5 am, at 8.00 to work. So what happened is what happened. Although I want everything to be - AH!, But I see either the time has not come, or my level is not the same.
:)))
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Fighter plane song ...
My motor is ringing
Heaven is my abode,
But the one that sits in me,
He believes that he is a fighter ...
V.S. Vysotsky
Road, Bicycle, Girl.
Associations inexorably refer to the frames of the cult sixties French film “Cherbourg Umbrellas” (Les Parapluies de Cherbourg) - Jacques Demi's musical melodrama with Michel Legrand and Catherine Deneuve in the lead role. The bicycle naturally appears in the frame and, together with a kaleidoscope of umbrellas, builds a second plan, against the background of which the love melodrama unfolds.
In fact, the story consists of two layers (circles of meanings), explicit and hidden, and these layers practically do not overlap. Even a double title: “Award for the winner, or Night Flight” is symbolic in itself.
Ptah, in the “Night Flight” (circle two) of his fantasy, did not stand on ceremony with clogged cliches and bravely made the bicycle the main character of the story, but more on that later, but now a few words about the first circle, about the intrigue of the story.
In the first circle, “Reward for the winner” we have a classic Road Movie, with all the attributes inherent to the genre: road, casual acquaintance, romantic passage with flight, the appearance of villains, chase, escape from the chase, random refuge, sudden love rush, erotic scene , the return of the villains, the escape from the villains, overcoming difficulties, paradise in a hut, strawberry glade, erotic scene:
"... the berries fell under his legs, buttocks fell on the berries, her legs fell on his shoulders, and he fell into unearthly bliss ...)))"
Well, as the apotheosis of the genre is an open ending hinting that the road is endless ...
Captions, curtain, golden palm.
So at first glance, however, a thoughtful reader cannot help but be amazed at the depth of the author’s idea of sending us to the hidden meanings and archetypes of the subconscious that we see in “Night Flight”, and this is practically a biblical parable about love, loyalty, friendship, and the ability to sacrifice, deceit and betrayal.
Undoubtedly, the protagonist of the "Night Flight" bike. He appears in the story effectively as Titanic in the film of the same name by James Cameron; To him, the billowing ...
Note, not a cyclist, but a bicycle. And only then the girl sees a young fellow with a thick silver neck, as a free supplement to this steel monster.
I think that the appearance of Alexei, or Lehi, as he himself introduced himself at the Miracle Pechka, would have made a less fascinating impression on the girl than a bicycle. There is no doubt that this type of transport caused the girl delight, close to the orgasmic. Unsurprisingly, the majority of young cyclists experienced their first orgasm while riding a bicycle. And parting with innocence, without noticing a bump on the road, when riding a bicycle is just a harsh reality of life. To understand the beauty of the relationship between the girl and the bike, just look with some trepidation and love teenage girls choose bicycle saddles in a sports store. The choice of sexual partners in the future, we are less ambitious.At 12-15 years old bicycle, this is not an accidental relationship, this is love.
I didn’t have to repeat twice, I’d have to give up my invitation on a big ten, the girl comfortably settled on the frame, the backpacks comfortably dived into a roomy trunk. "
In turn, it is obvious that the bike, too, fell in love with the girl at first sight and willingly allowed her to antics, which were put up with, were previously not in his rules. Not to mention tolerance for the careless Lech-rider, who also had to be dragged along.
The nerves of the Great surrendered only once, when the girl let him down, the commandant, and the guards over the wave under the moon as the heroes of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet over Titanic and uniting the movement of open hands, they departed to Titanic. wind and moon, rejoicing and illumining, friend to one another.
Jealousy and resentment embarrassed the mind of a steel horse and “Blessing began to wriggle and, in order to keep him from falling, they amicably took hold of the steering wheel, turning the wheel. "
But the next moment, assessing the danger that threatens the girl and the careless rider from the goons in the car, the bike easily suppressed the agitation and left the pursuit:
“Bicycling wilted, changing the direction and moving along the track, deep into the dynasties. The noise of the car did not leave, and the hoot, whistling and witting, they said about what came to the end of the hunt. Their breathtaking feelings of repression.
Bicycle sprung into a narrow passage between the houses, and the car locked up. "
And then begins the story of meanness and treacherous betrayal, when the bike, who performed his friendly duty, was left to die as wounded on the battlefield. A careless rider - Lech went to the attic to get in the arms of a young temptress, the winner's award. The award to which he had nothing to do and for which his loyal friend Bicycle paid with his life.
But such is life. If three friends stood up for the girl to save her from rape, ran into a stabbing, the two remained lying injured at the crime scene, and the third most cowardly ran away and took the girl to the attic. She will consider this as her savior and will willingly surrender to him with great difficulty and delight in the feat. I know this for myself, we girls do not like to score losses, and the hero is always the one who is around.
If there is no hero with the deed, then you find yourself in bed with the one who best talks about the deed. The actor has played a role about the feat, you love more than the one who accomplished the feat and remained unknown.
Well, going back to the plot, only gangsters who see the treachery with which Easy Rider-Lech entered with his friend with a bicycle, swore over a lifeless iron horse, to punish the enemy traitor and traitor-girlfriend look like consistent characters
"Living-envy the dead," the oath sounded.
The village was ablaze more than a day.
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Thank you, Anfisa. And you are right. The first title of this story (under this name it lies in the folder) - “Bicycle”. And "Award for the winner" is a series of stories, which includes this one. The beginning of the story is real, but the rest is a flight of fantasy and the memory of how one night, in a neighboring summer cottage village 3 houses burnt out. My husband and his friends tried to put out the fire, but the wooden buildings on the moor burn very quickly.
Dug, you, of course, very much deep. I do not think that it was precisely such thoughts about which you speak that influenced me when writing a story. Unless, the games of deep subconsciousness, they began to imperceptibly to me. But, I repeat. wrote in the dead of night and being very tired, upset and sleepy.
I really hope not to disappoint you with the following story in this series.
With gratitude, Ptah.)))))))))
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Your comment is worthy of a separate story, which you practically wrote and posted.)))))))))))
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Anfisa, once again I can’t help asking to be noted with my syllable not only in the forum and comments, but also in the stories themselves ... Well, you are a very big clever woman in your language skills.
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Here, not just the knowledge of the language, much more - the ability to read between the lines, the understanding of understatement, and the very essence of the story.
Thank you for visiting the page and leaving comments, even if not according to the story.))
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Ptah, you have such a beau monde gathered in the comments that many CT authors will envy))))) Even Anfisa, probably the longest post of all his time on the site, left it to you;)
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Itself in shock)))
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And this is an indicator of the interest that you cause with your creativity :). And - an indicator of expectations ...
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Well, now it becomes quite scary. It is not known what happens, but I do not want to disappoint.)))))))
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"The eyes are afraid - hands write :)". Everything will be fine, honestly :). Good work.
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Julie, to the very point. Nefertiti and the Non-Commentator are not enough, and everyone in the collection will be :).
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:-)))))))))))
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Not yet evening... ;)
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Thinking out loud: it looks like the forum has moved here.)))))))
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This is dangerous by the way! We are here soooo nafludim!))))
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I agree to all. Walk so walk. The main thing is that admins do not oppose this.))
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Resist, in theory, should not, because, as far as I know, comments from under the story are deleted in two cases: either at the request of the author, or containing advertisements of other resources.
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Smile, smile. smile. I'm afraid I will soon look like Gwynplaine.)))
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“Now you saw a little light,” a voice said to him. Then he lit the candles again, said that he needed to see the full light, and again they removed the bandage, and more than ten voices suddenly said: sic transit gloria mundi.
L. Tolstoy. War and Peace: In 4 volumes. - T. 2. Part II. M .: Eksmo. 2007. p. 736
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Yes, probably, this is how we enter the writing world.))
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Sensually, good!
end = ballad of a soldier
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Thank you)))) All of you gave an incredible evening. I even feel some kind of movement on the shoulder blades. Do wings grow?
In fact, I would like more criticism, pointing to errors and miscalculations. I'm learning, which means that we need tough teachers who can send in the right direction.))
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That has never understood this desire to acquire exactly the stern teachers. Why it is impossible to “send in the right direction” and in more benevolent ways, why are severity necessary? Excessive severity and repel any kind of hunting for writing can ... "Whip-gingerbread", of course, is a great thing ... but if you mix fresh gingerbreads and two or three days ago, the effect of this may be no worse than same memorable whip))).
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Maybe you are right. Only, you see, too many praises - this is too much. Causes relaxation and some narcissism. And this is not good when you try to get up. For me it is better to let them verbally beat them. Then there is a desire to prove that you are capable of the best. At least from a sense of contradiction.))
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By the way, I think that mixed gingerbread is bad for teeth. Eat there soft gingerbread, relax, take another and hryas - the teeth end :)))
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Immediately all the teeth will not come, this is firstly :). And it's not a fact that it will come at all: we all boast strong teeth, sharp claws and nerves of steel :))). And, secondly, a similar gingerbread is akin to a whip :): they got to it, understood that something was wrong and thought: aha, what is wrong here and what is wrong here :) And - work went on ... gingerbread ...))))))))) ...
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You have a light and clean energy
You are the sun!
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Not on the sun there are spots.))))))) 0
But, thank you, only, something a lot of unctuous reviews, somehow it is not right.)))
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Do not kill you so, about the lack of criticism.
The biggest criticism is your first two stories.
After your first publications, many were even embarrassed to write about mediocrity, praised out of courtesy (in advance) as a debutant,
But...
The author said everything himself (a).
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It was a breakdown. It has long been oooooooooochen a great story, something similar to this. Rolled pages 60. Just can not finish, I can not catch the wave to write the ending. Yes, and I do not know where to lay it.
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Do not even think about it, until six pages remain, do not even dare to publish.
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Yes, 20 pages on the Anfisa resource will not exactly master :).
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This story was not intended for ST. Rather, it is a story about life, with troubles, problems and complexes, and the hope that one day you can find happiness, if someone happens to be near, the one who can understand.
Something like that.)))
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6 pages fail, there is a complicated narrative, a love drama with a complex plot. I'll try, after editing, put on prose.))
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NOT Hurt too much to fall from the 10th floor? I HAVE ONE "avian" story of the ZhSP ... true, offensive but funny =)
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I have been here “without a year, a week,” I have heard a lot ... If anything, I have claws, I will not give my offense! Look how angry I am on an avatar! =)
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Thank you.))) Kogotochki and I have, only short cropped and therefore not very dangerous. But, I can not scratch the word and weakly. Just try not to do that.
But, if that - always happy to help and support, well, take advantage of the claws of friends.)))
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And you are not so simple ... like me. Probably, dictation was written in a literary university?
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We are all not simple. Simple - do not try to express themselves in prose, poetry or drawings.
Literary training at the school level. But, during life, there were circumstances when the only friends who could open up and pour out their sadness were paper and pen.
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Can you be a guest?
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I do not know, I have not tried it. But, I think this is not the topic of discussion.))
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Sorry it's late. I will no longer
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:-))
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Davnenko did not have to see so many comments)))
10.
And my comment on the forum)
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Thank:))
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My personal mood coincided and I felt the feeling of anxiety, but I am not sure that I would be able to experience it so brightly in another state.
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Thank. I know a lot still needs to learn. I really want the reader to feel all his actions and sensations from what is happening, like his own, but I have not yet reached such a level, although I am striving for it.))
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10 thanks! But that is why she didn’t give him her number from the train at the last moment, as in the Mersi candy advertisement? :-)
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Sorry for not immediately responding. But thanks for the tip.
I will answer the question: not always in an unexpected situation, there is a pen and a sheet of paper at hand. Therefore - not destiny, so not destiny ...)))
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I didn’t read all the comments (but the story is easy), so I can repeat it. :)
The story is excellent, interesting, not trite, beautiful. Thanks you!
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Thank you all))
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