Short Story #2 - Lenin and a Beautiful Fox (Bilingual)

LENIN is crazy about chess just as he is crazy about books. In prison he would not miss a chance to play chess. Lenin was lucky to have been born in Russia, a country where everyone has chess DNA in his blood. Lenin's madness on chess might just be lost by a beautiful fox.

As a troublemaker, getting out into jail has become a routine activity for men with a slightly broad forehead. Lenin might be able to stand for days without eating, but not in chess. In prison where he was locked up with his troublemaker friends, he did not spend a day playing chess.

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Like other prisons in Russia, the prison where Leni was detained did not provide a chess board for the prisoners. However, it was not Lenin's name if he had no clever mind. To vent his passion for playing chess, he and his friend used a tap-like code, as a sign that the game of chess was running.

He was later exiled to Siberia after a court sentenced him to three years. He was accompanied by his lover Nadya Krupskaya, a man deeply infatuated with the idea of ​​the Lenin revolution. They live in such a shortage in exile. It is said, they more often fall asleep on an empty stomach and hungry, and it happens repeatedly.

Lenin, who had no hunting skills, was faced with the fact that they had to hunt for food if they did not want to sleep in hunger. One day, with his beloved, Lenin hunts the fox in the Siberian swamp area. A fox cheats him by slipping in front of him so quickly. Lenin was so stunned, but still trying to catch the fox. Strangely, he did not intend to shoot the animal, and just saw it with his eyes unblinking.

"Oh my God! Why did not you shoot the fox, honey?" Nadya made her awake from daydreams.

Lenin was embarrassed. "The fox is too beautiful, dear," she replied. "I can not bear to shoot him." They went home without any game, except for a wild mouse the size of a child's arm. Only the rats were their evening meal, and Lenin just could not sleep well afterwards: he was vomiting.

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LENIN was an extraordinary figure, but no strange and extraordinary incident occurred when the complete boy named Vladimir Ilyich Lenin was born into this world. In fact, Hitler is so hated by Lenin, when born rumored to be a row of shops in Austria disappeared in the red rooster. Or when Winston Churchill was born, a palace in London nearly collapsed into the Thames, before the rescue team sounded an alarm signal, and reinforcements came like a band of fangs, saving the only palace that had a pet's ghost inside.

Karl Marx or Engels who usually shivering cold every time something extraordinary was not even aware of the birth of Lenin. Shops in Russia do not need to cover this birth, except for one shop door for avoiding rent collectors. Later, the store was closed forever, and in the former the shop was built a monument on which it was written only one sentence: this place is cursed!

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Lenin was born normal like any other baby, and was only assisted by a poor midwife, who later on when Lenin came to be proposed to be a hero of the revolution. Newspapers in Russia have neglected to tell the news of the birth of a baby that will change Russia completely. When Lenin came to power, the newspapers that could not predict the future were closed for reasons not written in the constitution.

Indeed, when the Tsar was still in power, in addition to the birth of a royal family child, newspapers banned publishing news of birth. The only exception at the time was the birth of a child with extraordinary ability: capable of playing chess! Naas for him, he was shot dead only for one small mistake: wrong when moving a horse on a chessboard. In Russia such mistakes can not be forgiven even by his parents even once.

I hardly knew Lenin, except through the news I'd heard from the media and the books I'd read. The rest does not exist. Even when I fish Sturgeon in Lake Volga, I do not know yet that Lenin was born not far from that place.

My friend, a frail man who accompanied me to hunt for endangered species on the Volga River, told me that Lenin often fished not far from where I threw a fishing pole. "He can spend the day there," he said, pointing to a large stone, where Lenin often waited for his bait to be snatched by the predatory Volga. "He always brings a chess board to kill all," he continued later. I can only nod.

From a history book I read, it was written that Lenin was born in Simbarak, a region on the shores of Lake Volga on April 10, 1870. He, six brothers from a father who was a school doctor, and a mother of a pediatrician. The story I heard from my friend, Lenin was a cheerful little boy who enjoyed his childhood cooking.

If he is not playing the sky, he and his friends will play chess in a hut on a hill, or sometimes herd the shepherd animal away from a herd of bears. Once upon a time, a bear almost knocked his leg off if a friend of mine did not stick the spearhead on the bear's neck. After that incident, something had changed to Lenin: he often could not hold his piss. In fact, his urine was thought to contain a type of poison, which the Soviet newspaper had the facts closed tightly.

I heard about this rumor from my friend, a frail, frail-old man I know on the eBay site. At the online sale site, he sells pork oil that supposedly works enough to wake up a "missile" a man who for years can not stand upright anymore.

Once, while we were engrossed in fishing Sturgeon, he suddenly cursed. "You know, why only one tree does not bear fruit here, whereas other trees actually bear dense fruit," he asked. I just shook my head. "There Lenin once defecated," he said. Apparently, Lenin not only has a deadly urine, but also a legendary beol. I was also more amazed at the figure that sparked the Bolshevik revolution.

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LENIN'S admiration led me to London. Under the guidance of vulnerable elderly parents in Moscow, I was asked to visit a library that had been conjured up as a museum in central London. According to him, there is a man whose whole hair is now silver, knowing the life of Lenin in the land of Queen Elizabeth is beyond.

"He knows exactly where Lenin sits, how many books are stacked on his desk, and how long he is there," he said.

In a library in London, I did meet a guardian of the biblical guardian. He claims to be a librarian because of the bad luck. "From the age of 10 I've spent time in this library," he said. He can not even count how many titles he has stolen from the library now financed by the London City Government.

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One time, the action to steal books is known by the literature workers. The man who claimed to be named Robert Harris was given two choices: go to jail or become a library servant. "I imagine, if in prison I can not steal books anymore, I finally chose to work in this library," he said. Since then he became the first person to enter the library. Hence, if there are visitors of the most memorized library of his face since the first, then the face of the person is Lenin.

He claimed to have expelled Lenin from a library that has become a second home for the Russian communist figure. At that time Lenin conjured up a reading room in the library as a meeting room. Apparently, that day, city officials will visit the library to look for a book that supposedly disappeared from his study. "The title is, if I'm not mistaken, the Constipation Treatment Method," says Robert, the library keeper. Lenin was not at all angry at the incident.

"Anyone who has constipation, will certainly do a lot of crazy things," he writes in a book, which for national security reasons, the Russian government forbids it to this day.

While we were chatting in the library room, a journalist (from his accent I know he was from England) asked for time to interview him. From the eavesdropping, I had heard that they were doing research for the filming of a documentary about Lenin. As the librarian of Britain's oldest library museum, where Lenin spent his years of exile, Robert was a walking dictionary. He even knows how many times Lenin went to the toilet when he was reading a book.

"A thin man with a beard? Dressed in a rag? A stranger?" Robert thought for a moment, "Yes ... yes I still remember him, I wonder what happened to him."

I was suddenly awake. A book, "The Story of Dictators" that had been covering my face was doused with milk by my young son.