The Island of Charon. Playing Another Reality. Antoine de Saint-Exupery Award. Alexandra Kryuchkova

a letter as the answer of not a boy, but a man.

      “No-no-no, this is not a novel, and not even a story, and not an episode, but just a moment in life of two adult self-sufficient people, who simply misunderstood each other. Sorry, I did wrong when I disappeared without explanation. I had a black streak, problems with money and in general… But as soon as life began to improve, I allowed myself to approach you again.”

      And that “I allowed myself to approach you…” was imprinted in me once and forever, instantly connecting kilometers of memories into a single whole picture.

      “I don’t even know how else to surprise you!”

      “Oh my God, I am already a grandfather!”

      “I’ve lost some kilograms! Now I’m like a boy!”

      I smiled…

      “Listen,” I responded quite seriously, “you don’t have to be a superhero! If you have no money to rent the whole five-stars hotel for us, we can just walk around the city. If you become impotent, pat my head, and I’ll be pleased. Life is too short to waste time getting hung up on its loosing streak!”

      Someone pulled my hand.

      Half asleep, lying on the snow-white sand, I opened my eyes and cried out in fright. Instead of the usual Sky, before my eyes appeared a grubby face of… the very same Boy!

      He was laughing.

      “Lantern! LANTERN!!!” he shouted the cherished word, running away from the shore towards the village.

      I got up, sighed and looked at the Ocean…

      Water… all around… water…

      “The Ocean comes here silently…”

      4.2. Athos rosary

      “Alice,” I heard Yanis’ voice, although for a moment it seemed to be the voice of another person, whom for some reason I couldn’t remember.

      I turned around. No, it was Yanis.

      In fact, who else could be there?

      “How did you sleep?” he asked.

      “Thanks, fine… Listen, Yanis… It’s the fourth day since I’ve been here on vacation, and there’s nobody on the beach. You have no customers in the cafe, don’t you? It isn’t high season, is it? Have you enough money to live? Maybe it’s better to go back to Greece?”

      “It’s low season everywhere,” Yanis answered laconically, and we wandered towards his cafe.

      Yanis brought me some water (dead? – ha-ha-ha!) and sat down across from me.

      “Do you have friends on the Greek islands?” he asked.

      Apparently, the memories of a cozy and completely non-witchy Greece warmed our souls.

      “Do you miss Greece, Yanis? It’s great there! A real Paradise. Despite they write on the Internet that Paradise is here, on Camotes… I do have friends in Greece, of course! The last few years I went only to Ammouliani. So the whole village knew me very well. Sometimes I tried to walk along the ‘secondary’ roads, but even there I became recognized, and people greeted me. It’s customary in Greece to stop at a meeting to exchange a couple of phrases, but I am not a sociable person. By the way, you can find a lot of Greeks among my friends on the social networking site. However, there was also a totally reserved guy, let’s call him the ‘Confectioner’.”

      “Are you fond of sweets?”

      “No, but sometimes I visited his shop for cookies.”

      “Would you like to marry a Greek?”

      “Perhaps!”

      “And what about living in Greece?”

      “Yes, on the island!” I laughed, remembering. “My friend from Ammouliani, Sofia, said, „As long as you are on the Island, nothing will happen to you“!”

      “Why is that?” Yanis was surprised.

      “The last time I went there, the news was full of murders. Men killed their wives and mistresses. The Greeks themselves considered the pandemic to be to blame. They say, self-isolation was driving people crazy. Every day someone killed someone. But not on Ammouliani, thank God! The only person who theoretically could become the ‘executioner’ among the locals was the same Confectioner. He is of my age, by the way. The gloomiest creature! Unfriendly, neither married, nor having relationship with either women or men, he lived with his mother, but she died that year. Once I entered his shop in the evening and asked for coffee. ‘What coffee?! No coffee! You have to sleep at night! Look at your watch!’ Then I asked for sparkling mineral water. And he grumbled again, why ‘sparkling’ and why ‘mineral’? ! I should have learned long ago that in Greece they say ‘Soda’!”