Inne Bajki

after Muriel Rukeyser So when the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse came they were met by women.  Tall women. Short women. Fierce women. Timid women. Women who supported other women, who laughed, cried and sang together. - Let us through - said the Horsemen. - After our dead bodies - answered the women. The Horsemen furrowed their brows. There was a slight buzz around them, like from a beehive. - You know, it can be done - they answered. The women closed their eyes and shook their heads with disdain. - You tried so many times, you could at last learned the fucking lesson - they answered. - We are indestructible, when we are together.

Zza zakrętu, za którym zniknął Syzyf, rozległy się kroki.   - Myślisz, że to tan wariat wraca z kamieniem? – zapytała wróżka.   - Nie – odparł wilk. - To ktoś inny. Nie ma kamienia, za to ma wodę i jakieś owoce… i jagnięcinę! - Zerwał się i pognał w dół drogi. Chwilę później wyłonił się zza zakrętu, obskakując niczym szczeniak wysoką, szczupłą kobietę, która niosła worek przerzucony przez ramię. Kobieta pochyliła się, podrapała go za uchem, a potem sięgnęła do worka, wyjęła dorodny kawał mięsa, miskę i dzban z wodą.   Wróżka patrzyła na nią, mrugając bardzo szybko. Na wszelki wypadek, odruchowo, zaczęła skręcać dwa papierosy naraz.   Kobieta zostawiła wilka, który mlaskał tak, że zagłuszał nawet tupanie stonogi w lewej skroni Wróżki, podeszła do kamienia i podała Wróżce dzban z wodą. Ta oddała jej oba papierosy i zapalniczkę, i zaczęła pić. Czuła, jak z każdym łykiem jej mózg zmienia się z pomarszczonej rodzynki w dorodne winogrono.   Ko...

Pani prokurator miała kaca.   Nie był to ani jej pierwszy kac, ani ostatni, ale o piątej rano był bardzo dotkliwy. Wilgoć w powietrzu sprawiała, że odechciewało się żyć, bo zimno właziło pod płaszcz i przeszywało do kości. Bolała ją głowa, chciało jej się spać i rzygać jednocześnie, a do tego gdzieś koło trzeciej w nocy skończyły się fajki, Tomek poszedł po paczkę i schował ją do kieszeni. Swojej. Kiedy zadzwonili z komendy chwyciła płaszcz i wyszła, i dopiero w samochodzie przypomniała sobie, że nie ma papierosów. Kurwa. Nie powinna była dać się wyciągnąć na imprezę podczas dyżuru. Ani Tomkowi, ani nikomu innemu. Zwłaszcza, że w taki wieczór zdarzały się różne dziwne rzeczy i przecież wiedziała, że zadzwonią.   Może wpadam w alkoholizm? zastanowiła się przez chwilę, a potem przypomniała sobie, że ostatni raz piła cokolwiek mocniejszego miesiąc wcześniej i dzisiaj też wypili tylko butelkę wina. Nadal nie zmieniało to faktu, że picie na dyżurze było bardzo nie w je...

She took a deep breath and threw the copper container into the deep, dark sea of oil.   It sunk without leaving a mark. - No! - yelled the Wolf and sprang to the shore. - No! Why did you do that? It had your heart inside! - The wolf was running along the shore, almost tripping over his paws. - You will never get it back from here! Never!   - Exactly for that reason - said the Third Fairy. - It was ugly and disgusting anyway.   - No it wasn’t… - whispered the Wolf, but she didn’t hear him. - I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t. People already believe I don’t have a heart, so why prove them wrong? And it was weak, it was disgusting, it was silly, embarrassing, and ridiculous. - No it wasn’t… - And how can you know? Have you ever had it? Has it ever made you feel so absolutely ravaged by feelings you couldn’t control, so absolutely naked and exposed, and on the mercy of someone else? Have you ever been told that you should be ashamed of having it, and that ...

When you reach certain age love becomes a chronic condition. You catch it, think that it's nothing and you will just shake it off as you used to, two years, five tops and you will be love-free, and then you learn that it can be indeed treacherous. When you are past that age love burns slowly; two years on and you realize that it is just gaining momentum. Where in your youth you'd already been tired of sleeping together now there has not even been the first hint of boredom yet. And this is when you know that you have twenty, thirty years of living with this condition ahead of you; maybe even a lifetime, actually, when you think of it.

- Do I really want to wear it? - asked the Fairy. She held the crown in her hands. It was beautiful: made of white gold that branched out from the thin band in the base into intricate leaves and flowers made of diamonds and emeralds. - It is certainly very pretty and will suit you - said the Wolf. The Fairy smiled; the smile was somewhat thin and laboured, and looked more like another scar across her face. She sighed. - It is also very heavy - she said. - Well, it is yours - said the Wolf. - You earned it. You worked hard for it, and now you can wear it. The Fairy put the crown back on its red velvet cushion. She traced the leaves with her finger; there was a little dragon hidden between them, its eyes made of tiny rubies. For a moment there she thought she felt it move under her touch, little wings waiting to expand. - I don't want it - she said. - Why? - Because it is so beautiful, and so heavy at the same time. Because there always will be the weight of it on my head; I...

- Honestly, is it so hard for you to let go? - he asked. - I don’t understand. It must be quite tiring, being like this… that charged… all the time. Don’t you ever feel exhausted?  She ran her tongue against her teeth, then barred them in a strange expression; he thought it was a poor attempt at smile.  - Well, it sorts of runs in the family - she said.  - What? - That… all.  - What all?  - Oh my god, for a person that intelligent you can be so thick sometimes. I’m half were. - You don’t say half where, you say half there… Where? - Were! Like in werewolf! - Half in a werewolf? She closed her eyes and shook her head. - I. Am. Half. A. Werewolf - she repeated. - Runs in the family. I mean, in my dad’s family it’s either a generation of  witches or werewolves, and since I was not exactly supposed to be born a woman I’m half half. Or rather, no one is really sure what I am. Me neither. - Oh. - For a moment he looked taken aback; h...