Rus Articles Journal

The tale of an old vase of

the Young woman, crying, cleaned splinters. Large put aside, stroking lovingly cracks and chips, and small just swept away. To a vase there were so many years that nobody remembered any more when it appeared for the first time in this house. But the vase very well remembered also that surprising sunny day when the beautiful young man asked the shop assistant to wrap it in multi-colored paper, and his gentle hands which so carefully bore a precious parcel, and the first hostess - the charming young girl that it zardetsya so lovely, accepting a gift.

Yes, a lot of time passed, many hostesses were replaced by a vase, she saw flowers, loving looks, hot kisses and dark nights much. All of them were stamped on her memory, and she liked to touch them, to take out, remember details. This evening she just tried to remember in what dress there was her third hostess in day of the wedding.

- Oh - ho - ho, - the old vase when the hostess got it from the shelf sighed and began to wipe dust. - Again I am disturbed, again there will be flowers, recognitions and ardent speeches. Then flowers will wither and will appear new, then again, and in few months or weeks - time fast, fussing now, about - ho - ho - and a wedding bouquet it is necessary to accept. Well, then - that I will have a rest, perhaps, some time - who after a wedding will often give flowers?

So always happens - several times in a year if the bouquet appears, then very quickly for some reason will wither. It is a pity, with flowers it is so pleasant to chat, learn what occurs in the world. And the covered dust to stand offensively - not for this purpose me kind hands davny - long ago so lovingly painted and covered with glaze. Yes, there was time...

of VAZ it was right - flowers that day appeared, and every other day, and all week appeared, beautiful and fragrant bouquets. But one night she as if having a presentiment of something, became sad, zavzdykhat, zavorochatsya on the shelf among other things, began to examine for some reason all the cracks which were left by time on its sides covered with glaze and a list. Then, having heard a doorbell, started and began to wait for a new bouquet - last the hostess threw out still yesterday. But flowers everything did not appear, there were no smiles and tender words.

instead the vase heard loud voices, shouts and crying. She uneasily began to rock on the shelf, began to move to edge - to look what occurs. The hostess sat on a sofa and cried, having hidden the face in hands, and the one who brought bouquets, stood is lost by a row and all went on: “So it turned out, not on the cards, it is visible...“. The vase began to remember whether there was it earlier. Suddenly the entrance door loudly slapped also it, having swayed, flew down, having broken into a set of splinters.