Ivan D. Hristov

Short Story

THE OUTLAW

5.00(1 votes)

Short Story

MANOLE MACRELATA

5.00(1 votes)

Short Story

DESTINY

5.00(2 votes)

Short Story

THE CROSS SIGN

5.00(1 votes)

Short Story

THE ORDEAL

5.00(1 votes)

Short Story

THE CHURCH

5.00(1 votes)

More

THE ORDEAL

VALCHAN’S SWING

“Hey, Turks are going, you, Russa, hey, Turks are going, talking to Russa: - Throw your child, to trample on him, you, Russa, with raven black horse. - How to throw it, Turks, When it is a child of my heart?” Rhodope folk song

Translated by: Росица Шопска

5.00   (1 votes)
of the moon appeared, the evening wind chilled, and the echo carried to the valleys the wicked scream of the owl and the wolves’ howling.

At night the survivors of the village cursed their unfortunate fate. They were lying by the fireplaces in the shag rugs, but sleep could not catch their eyes full of tears.

Early in the morning, the old Ilcho went to Hvoynov saddle area, where his goats and sheep were locked in the house. He let the flock go in the direction of the Crossroads, where there were wooden troughs for livestock. As he passed the high, overhanging rocks, an underground voice came to his ears, like a child crying. He approached the place. Not believing his eyes, he saw the two oaks at the upper end of the meadow, next to the road, and a swing. He peered into it and saw the face of the infant turning blue with cold, who, in a hoarse voice, was screaming pitifully. He noticed wolves’ steps and scratches on the trees around. The swing was slobbery with wolves’ slavers running down it.

The old Ilcho turned to the nearby chapel „St. George” and made the sign of the cross, seeing a God‘s miracle. He untied the swing and slung it on his shoulder. He thought it was a sin in front of God to let this poor infant die here and decided to shelter him in his hut. He quickly let the sheep and goats drink water and led them to the sheepfold. He shut them not interested whether they had enough to graze.

A scream of a frightened bird came from the woods, and then there was silence again. The infant, who was now without any energy from screaming, was sleeping in the swing. The old Ilcho did not wait as usual for the shadows of the trees to stretch, intertwine, and melt in the evening twilight, but he slung the swing on his shoulder and headed for the village.

As he crossed the threshold of his house, he called his wife:

„Stana, come to see! That‘s what I found up there at the Crossroads. Only God knows how the wolves did not eat him at night ... I took him with me in the swing on my back and fed him with crumbs from the bag.”

“It’s good that you brought him, otherwise he would die there or wolves would eat him. This child is a gift from God - you have done a big good!

Thankful tears to God fell down the old Ilcho’s eyes. He looked at his wife Stana and said:

“Do you know that the wolves have scratched the oak trees next to the swing, but God did not let them eat him? They, damned, must have thought that a lamb was bleating, but St. George locked their mouths.”

The old Stana took the infant from the swing and stared at him:

“This child, Ilcho, looks like Ruska, who is the wife of Nikola, Dimcho’s son. His name is Vasilcho.”

On the very same day she went to Dimcho’s wife and took their grandson Vasilcho - a little joy in the midst of the sea of sorrow; they had been left to mourn for their daughter-in-law Ruska and their son Nikola.

The news of t

The PlovdivLit site is a creative product of "Plovdiv LIK" foundation and it`s object of copyright.
Use of hyperlinks to the site, editions, sections and specific texts in PlovdivLit is free.

© PlovdivLit 2022