- Woodstock kids. Part 1
- Woodstock kids. Part 2
- Woodstock kids. Part 3
- Woodstock kids. Part 4
- Woodstock kids. Part 5
- Woodstock kids. Part 6
Page: 3 of 3
in itself lead. Flo need to shift to dry. She can catch a cold ...
- Lord, let her wash someone! She is covered in blood!
Someone shoved him in the shoulder:
- Stuart! Stu! ..
The guy woke up and saw next to Kim anxious:
- Give me a baby. Do something with Lew - you need Flo to help.
Still not really delving into what was happening, Stewart gave the child away, then looked at Lewis as he lay, then sat down and vigorously shook him by the shoulder. Whether his movements helped, or the weather, but Lewis came to his senses, sat down right on the muddy ground, looked around frantically and suddenly exclaimed:
- Look!
Stewart involuntarily looked in the direction he pointed, and froze.
In the scattered light of spotlights with illuminating masts rising on both sides of the stage, the rain seemed to be a silvery shaking fringe flowing on invisible clothing. In the midst of one such spot of spotlight, fragile Melanie stood on the stage in sheer confusion, and from a strip of oaks, along which several tents were placed, lights flashed toward her, cutting through this silvery wet fringe. They flashed before our eyes, spreading mysterious fireflies all over the field, hypnotized, attracted to themselves, and from one of their species forgot about the rain, which seemed to fill the whole body from the inside, about dirt stuck to the soles ...
Someone shoved him again in the shoulder:
- Dude, hold on!
Stewart awoke from contemplation and saw in a outstretched hand a small jar with a burning candle. The guy automatically took it.
“So what did you have here?” - asked the same voice.
Stewart was about to answer, but then his attention was attracted by the noise rolling from the stage. At the same time in time with him, hundreds of candles began to swing. The noise grew, and soon Stewart could make out: “Mel, sing! ... Mel, don't leave, please! ...”
* * *
And the following happened.
Having sung two or three songs in the incessant rain, Melanie was so wet that she could no longer be on the stage, and was about to leave, desperate in the hope that the weather would get better. Listeners from the front rows tried to keep her, but, seeing that the girl was determined, they went to extreme measures. From somewhere appeared the first candles that began to light right before the eyes of the stunned singer; then the initiative was picked up near the tents, and soon a part of the field was swept by lights swinging in her honor. This is an unprecedented sight and was accompanied by the request "Do not leave ..."
The girl was shocked and confused so much that literally stuck to the place near the microphone. Later, those who stood in the first row assured that they saw tears in her eyes. However, this lasted from the power of a minute or two: Melanie’s lips tightened obstinately, and she looked up, started singing with some kind of challenge, met with violent joyful cries ...
* * *
... in which Florence's heart-rending cry utterly sank.
- Well, the "arrival" is the same with the chick! Said an invisible interlocutor sympathetically.
“This is not a“ coming, ”said Stewart detachedly, looking in that direction, where even in the darkness there was a fussy panic stir. - It just hurts. She had a baby born ...
- Baby? - surprised invisible. - Seriously? But it's cool, dudes! Congratulations! - A strong hand familiarly slammed Stewart on the shoulder. - Jenny, baby, did you hear? Dudes child was born!
- Baby? - there was a long, high girlish voice. - Waau! ... And who is a boy, a girl?
“N-I don’t know,” said Stewart, but he didn’t seem to be heard: the girl continued to mumble: “Dirt is down ... rain — from above ... the child is in the middle.” Music ... is a midwife. The spirit of blessing and taking birth ... Mystic ... The birth of a new man ... this is the beginning ... this is wonderful ... “Without hearing this, the guy shook off his stupor and rushed to the dark silhouettes hovering near Florence. The girl fought hysterically, twitching and trying to escape from the hands of tightly holding her Charlie.Her legs now and then beat the wet sleeping bag - Florence did not have time to shift. Lewis illuminated the flashlight, and in the dim light was visible distorted fear of the guy's face. Molly, herself trembling, tried to calm her friend, stroking her hands.
- Molly ... Molly ... - trembling, the girl repeated, - am I dying? I'm falling apart, huh? It...does it move? ... What thisMolly? It moves, I see it! ..
Molly, leaning over to her ear, whispered something.
- What with her? Asked Stewart, crouching next to Lewis. Instead of answering, he nodded at the girl’s hips. The young man looked closer and saw a blood-pale bubble between her spread legs. A lump re-rolled to his throat.
“This is a“ child's place, ”Kim said next, slightly rocking the child. - Where the child was. It would throw him somewhere ...
“Where are you going to throw him out in such a crush?” - Charlie grunted. - It's easier to shift Flo to another sleeping bag, and leave it until morning. And in the morning I will think of something ...
- Maybe ask the dudes to somehow make room? - timidly suggested Lewis. Kim sniffed, and Charlie, slightly loosening his grip, half turned and began to talk about something with the neighbors from behind.
Like Kim, Stuart did not expect anything good from this idea, however, to his surprise, someone moved somewhere, someone helped Charlie to unwind a sleeping bag, someone else along with him carefully lifted Florence. Stewart caught his legs in time, and soon they managed, grunting and stumbling in the mud, to shift it to the dry. Molly was eventually able to calm the girl down, and Florence immediately fell into a sleepy slumber.
Stewart carefully straightened and felt his legs tremble. Charlie wiped his face with his hand.
“Drink now,” he said.
Stewart wanted to offer LSD instead of drinking, but, remembering Molly’s gaze, found it prudent to keep silent.
- Kim, how's the baby? - asked Meda so Charlie.
- Silent, - the girl responded. - It seems to fall asleep ...
“Milk would take him somewhere tomorrow,” Charlie said anxiously. - I doubt that Flo after such stress tomorrow will come to his senses ... We'll have to strain. Well, he is a good man, help ...
“Kim,” Lewis unexpectedly timidly said, “and who was born, then?”
All of a sudden, with interest and curiosity, they looked at the girl, as if only now, to the end, realizing what had just happened in reality. Kim smiled and handed Lewis a baby wrapped in a jacket:
- You have a son, dad ...
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It's good that everything ended well. Of course, I understand that earlier, our women in the field also gave birth, but now a slightly different attitude to this process, therefore, the picture created is a bit shocking. This is largely due to the author's ability to immerse the realistic narrative completely into the story. If I didn’t know anything about the author, I’d surely think that this is a translation and the author is actually an American hippie who was once at this concert under jets of rain.
Of course not at all porn, so few will read and appreciate.
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Marina, the main thing is that these few will still be found, read and appreciate. And it is very pleasant that among these few people, in spite of the fact that you are not at all close to such a subject, you are. Thank you so much for such a high rating and a wonderful comment. The praise about realism and authenticity for me in this case is almost the highest compliment, because I wrote about historical events and was very worried.
As for the fact that the picture is a bit shocking - well, so I promised “incremental tin” :)). Moreover, I do not think that in such conditions it could be somehow different.
True, now I'm at a loss. I still had plans to continue the story a bit, but now I don’t even know if it is necessary. Judging by your comment, the story looks complete, although in my view it is not yet so ... I wonder what other readers will say?
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When I wrote about “ended”, I meant the process of having a child, because in such conditions there could be anything.And the story goes on, of course, if your soul demands it. From myself I will add, despite the fact that I am a person "to whom such topics are not at all close," I will read the continuation with interest, and not only because I sympathize with the author.
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This is probably one of your best stories, so go ahead.
Daddies want to nail. It is a pity that men can not give birth.
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Thank you so much for such an emotional response. It means that this story is not my one ...
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This is generally one of the best stories on ST.
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One feels that it excites you, such a heavy narration, even with anguish. Faddish, in many ways incomprehensible heroes to me, distant, unfamiliar events that have bypassed me ... I read all this at the level of Martian chronicles. But you are not the only fan of those times, and Human wrote about it with love. It is good, when something deeply excites a person, then a worthwhile thing is obtained.
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Eugene, very glad to see your feedback under my story. I understand all, to say the least, the unusual and peculiarity of the theme chosen by me for readers from the post-Soviet expanses, but there are many human moments in this story that I hope are close to us, people of a different culture. And, judging by the reviews under all three parts, the story did not leave anyone indifferent. And this is the main thing. And for this response, of course, many thanks to all. And to you as well.
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Very ... great ... crying ... sobbing ... as if it was there in the rain ... class - and waiting for the continuation;)
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Touched, Necchi. To the depths of the soul. Thank you.
So the continuation is to be;). True, it will not be so hard already :);)
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Here's a pancake, but I'm already tuned ...)))))
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Well, forgive me - I don’t know how to yet write stories in the style of Hitchcock :)))) ...
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10!!! +++
Of course, I already, as usual, read to the music in order to immerse myself more deeply into the story. Now, not like before, it is quite simple - youtube will help you. Three seconds and here Melanie sings right from that concert in your ears. And Shankara, I remember that already. Spun hours for youth. By the way, he performed in one of the Beatles' concerts, but only later.
Of course with the birth of a child full tin. Yes, and the flimsy men got caught - they lose consciousness))) But I hope everything worked out: Mom did not catch a cold and the cub did not get sick.
Superbly written! It was as if the author not only lived at that time, but was also present at the concert itself.
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Yur, a little more, and I will believe in it myself - that I was there :))). Or - at least, that in my basement there is a time machine. The same one - from the movie “Guest from the Future” :)).
Thank you, Yur, for your feedback and rating. Moreover, you are watching it all on YouTube, but I don’t have a YouTube connection: (, therefore, I’m thinking a lot about it myself. But, apparently, the author’s fantasy doesn’t fail :).
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10+. Touched to tears, just right under my weekly mood. Well done
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Although I’m late to answer, the word “Thank you” is probably never too late to say :). Thank you for reading and appreciating so much. This is a strong incentive.
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All the same, decided to finish?
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No, Kapp, just really lingered. Sent for moderation last part. If you still come here - I will be glad to see you in the readers;).
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