Rus Articles Journal

Butterfly of

- Yes I … yes I do not tear off the head, Ivan Polikarpych! Look! I have a contract with Tula, and still, still the additional agreement with “Omega“ should be done! Here to work and work! To me, me in a toilet there is no time to descend, and you …

- Does not interest Me that there at you! Contract, contract! To me on horse-radish! Your business to a kozlyachya - to do what the chief tells you and not to be indignant! To put all affairs aside and to do what is told! Grew insolent in the end!

without having limped to the end of a ladder of the second floor Yet, and without having managed to open a creaking wooden

door of our “office“ - Soviet many-placed desk, what hundreds of thousands - on loud sounds of the basses and falsettos heated on a habit I already felt that I come back not where - nibud, and to the native Penates. The same “pleasantly“ loaded atmosphere, the same exchange of “courtesies“ - plaintively - revolted from dissatisfied employees, zatyrkanny big-bellied, always knowing at what to carp the administration and it is angry - indignant from high cartridges to the careless goofs - subordinates. In total, as always.

Is careful having slightly opened a door that to disturb nobody and not to tear off from corporate as it is accepted to speak at us, discussion, an exchange of opinions between chiefs and subordinates, “equal“ in the rights and duties, I safely entered on yet not cooled down battlefield. Blood pools did not dry yet. Refracted a spear and an arrow in a disorder were scattered. The chief, Ivan Polikarpych, with a “gentle“ smile of the hungry cannibal of the islands of Kiribati took of me a “friendly“ view from legs to the head. Other attendees also hardly kept from joyful and rough greetings in my address on the occasion of arrival.

- You where climb? - it is lazy our Jupiter growled.

- Bought maps and a stationery … you know …

- And why so long?

followed Further a number of small cavils and the compelled explanations: “why so long“, “why it is so expensive“, “why not that quality“ and so on.

Then our dissatisfied mister important was removed in the cozy alcove. I, having received in the last three minutes a number of new tasks - ah if they became at least from one tenth that vivacity and carelessness with which were born, - turned on the computer and flopped on a rigid chair, pondering for what at first to undertake.

But also after our big boss retired, I twenty was even minutes under furious cross fire of our employees revolted up to the depth of the maiden vanity and wounded in the heart of the pride: they and so, in every possible way and gears told off and chekhvostit our leader.

- No, well I to it, girl that it me so? Here and so? Here you work, you work, the heads, you understand, you do not lift, and this goat comes and begins to scoff at you! - the economist Lenochka was indignant from all remained forces (however to Lenochka there was fifth ten long ago, but she insisted on it tenderly - a diminutive imechk). Goat it after that!

- Yes throw you, do not pay attention - the head of department Tatyana Sanna gave to Lenochka a “original“ and useful advice (however, the good person though often I had a maniacal desire to shut her a mouth a rag that lay behind the battery beside me, for her unruly garrulity) - here, you understand, not to remake it, he here all of us builds, carps - at - at - at, so and suffocated him, would turn off to it the head! (Tatyana Sanna often confused the administration to the husband).

But heart-felt exchange of indignation and indignation, in the apogee when the voices which slightly became hoarse from disputes sang the top note, and faces already accepted an apoplectic shade, the hero of a furious slovometaniye of violent employees interrupted.

- Elena Pavlovna (economist Lenochka), you made what I told? - from a threshold, without having given will come round, the pointed dart Ivan Polikarpycha neatly pierced in the purpose - defenseless Lenochka.

- Yes I … it … Ivan Polikarpych! I already …! Now! - a stupid arrow of Lenochka, not ready to fight, without having described a lethal arch, fell to her legs - of course, Lenochka had neither time, nor forces, everything was spent for that verbal pollyution which reigned in our office the last several hours.

- Yes I to you! Yes I you! You …! I …! In total …! … to devils dog! - The great Leader Plemen Sbyta and Supply threw thunders and lightnings to the right and on the left.

I here, among all this rough soldier`s abuse, shrill market voices, trite gossips, idle reports, among all this gloomy dirt I saw something unusual and wonderful that almost forced me to choke with delight, allowed to become deaf in relation to all this wild guttural cacophony. I looked and could not have inflamed eyes glued from that live and real that suddenly unexpectedly flitted into our factory den. A splinter of the distant, long ago forgotten world. Small piece of the Sun. Messenger Leta and Happiness. Butterfly.

Simple butterfly … No, extraordinary huge, with two bright oranzhevo - Xing - black sails - wings she trembled, borne on waves of that negative energy that soared in our stuffy box. Having nervously flushed to the ceiling, she began to fight violently about the blinding lamps of day lighting, fatally burning. “Watch

, a butterfly!“, as if “Oh, miracle strange! “ - without controlling itself, I began to yell. But nobody staid without turning a hair. Any head did not turn towards a flower sailing vessel, the messenger Leta and the Sun, any voice did not wish to stop.

“What is it? Makhaon? Sailing vessel? Or what other look?“ - I did not understand butterflies. My knowledge was limited to cabbage white butterflies, makhaona and sailing vessels. I knew that along with ordinary white or sand color of a batterflyayama beautiful insects meet absolutely surprising, the huge sizes. I knew that in some countries of butterflies love and esteem. For example, on Taiwan, and in some other countries, there are whole reserves and migratory ways of butterflies which are tremblingly protected by the law and people. In some east countries a butterfly - the messenger of happiness and to kill the envoy of the sun - means, to sin. But that in the thin East. And at us …

In violent dance of life it fought about the luminescent sun, spilling vital pollen and gradually burning itself to death. Blow, still blow. For a moment as if blinded by this fight against windmills, it deafened fell down, there, where sharp lightnings furious currents of human hatred, misunderstanding and egoism, then as though having again recovered rushed, it sharply soared up to the ceiling where as seemed to it, bright light it was attracted by freedom, pleasure and love. Blow, still blow. And again. And again. It seemed, it was heard as her live soul fights about the heated glass. Blow. One more. And again. And again …

Ya jumped. Jumped on one chair, trying to reach a violent makhaon, but it, having failed down, and again convulsively clinging to air huge wings - hands, having soared up up, flew away to other lamp. I came off a chair, scrambled on another, began to swing hands in attempt to grab unfortunate creation to save from inevitable death. The butterfly returned there where was before. It was knocked by a tiny little body and multi-colored wings about a bright lamp several times, and then, it is similar to the aspen leaf broken by autumn wind, slowly dived on a floor.

Ya jumped off from a chair, took the poor creature in a palm. Still few times, with the last bit of strength, makhaon convulsively pulled the big wings - it was visible how not enough pollen on them remained - the movements more and more slowly, more quietly and more quietly, and then at all, it at once, somehow stiffened.

Skirmish, meanwhile, ended. The working day slowly, but inevitably came to an end. Everyone was busy with the affairs, affairs. And nobody noticed small death that happened just. “Fine“ and bitter death of the envoy of angels. to

Among all this terrestrial chaos, empty dissonance in minds and hearts, hour after an hour, day after day, and so all life, burning, corroding, destroying in us that wonderful, that God`s spark that could allow us, wish we it, to rejoice to each lived day, each other, to those miracles that we are surrounded and happen to us and by which we pass because our hearts are blind, - the sign of heaven was sent us. A sign that everything that from God perfectly. That every instant - miracle. Admonition of angels about fragility and transience only. An inscription on a wall … But, alas, we were illiterate. Insensible. Blind people and deafs. However, all as always.