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Childhood Main Content

My father died of cholera. When I was young, I clung to my grandmother, watching my mother cry with fear and uneasiness.

It’s true that misfortunes never come singly. The mother was so sad that her newborn child also died. It seems that there is nothing left to miss. After finishing everything, I took a boat with my grandmother and mother to my grandfather’s house in Nigeria.

My grandmother is a kind and kind person. She spoke kindly, cheerfully, and fluently. From the first day I met her, I became close to her. On the boat, she told me stories. Her voice was low and mysterious. She leaned down close to my face and looked into my eyes with wide eyes, as if instilling an uplifting power into my heart. Every time after listening to her talk, I always asked: "Tell me one more!" "Okay, Alyosha." She always agreed happily.

Grandpa’s house has arrived. I don't like either the adults or the children in this family. I feel like a stranger among them. What I particularly disliked was my grandfather. "I" immediately smelled hostility in him.

My grandfather’s house was filled with the blazing mist of hatred between people. The adults were poisoned by the hatred, and even the children enthusiastically participated in it. My grandfather opened a dyeing shop, and my two uncles also worked in the dyeing shop and hired some long-term workers. The arrival of the mother made the two uncles worry that she would take away their share of the family property, so they started to argue about dividing the family.

I think my grandfather has a very bad temper; no matter who he talks to, he always laughs at them, bullies them, puts on a challenging air, and tries his best to make the other person angry. Within a few days of my arrival, my grandfather forced me to learn to pray. Soon, I was whipped by my grandfather.

I found it amusing that the adults cleverly changed the color of the cloth. When I just put the edge of a tablecloth into the dye bucket, the family's long-term worker, Gypsy, rushed over and stopped me. Even my grandmother screamed and even started crying. I knew I was in trouble.

That night, my grandfather pushed aside my grandmother’s obstruction and carried me to the long board. I struggled in his hands, pulled his beard, and bit his fingers. This made him even more furious, and he could only be heard shouting rudely: "Tie him up! Beat him to death!..."

I lost consciousness, and then became ill. I lay on the bed for several days. sky. The days when I was sick were important days in my life. I probably grew up a lot during these days and had a particularly different feeling. From that time on, I observed people with an uneasy feeling, as if the outer skin of my heart had been torn off by others. As a result, my heart became insensitive to all humiliation and pain, whether it was my own or that of others. Tolerated sensitivity.

Gypsy came to see me. His arms were covered with whip marks, which he left behind when he tried to stop his grandfather from cutting tree branches. He constantly comforted me and told me ways to ease the pain when I was spanked again.

The young man Gzigan has good skills in dyeing cloth. The two uncles were planning to drag Ci Gang over when they visited Rye in the future. They were also afraid that he would not follow, and that their grandfather would open a third dyeing workshop with Gypsy. Grandfather saw their trick and deliberately teased them by saying that he wanted to buy gypsy a certificate exempting him from military service. Although it would cost a lot of money, he needed gypsy the most. This made the two uncles very angry. Grandfather never imagined what his joke meant to Gypsy.

On the anniversary of the death of Aunt Yakov, the uncles asked Gypsy to carry a heavy cross to the cemetery.

When I was talking happily to Grigory, the old craftsman at home, I suddenly heard a noise outside. It turned out that the uncles were back and Gypsy was lying on the ground with a lot of blood on his body. Uncle Yakov said: "He fell down, and the cross crushed him and hit his back." "It was you who crushed him to death," Grigory said in a muffled voice. "Yes, how about..." At this time, my grandfather came, and he shouted loudly: "A bunch of jackals! I know, he is a thorn in your side... Oh!"

... young man The vines were buried silently and forgotten.

My grandmother often prayed to God and told God everything about the house. I often begged her to tell God’s story. When she talked about God, heaven, and angels, she seemed kind; her face became younger, and her moist eyes revealed a particularly warm light.

One day, when she was kneeling to pray, her grandfather suddenly came in and shouted hoarsely: "There's a fire!" "What did you say!" Grandma yelled, jumped up and ran towards the hall. .

"Take off the icons! Put on clothes for the children!" Grandma commanded sternly and firmly, while Grandpa just sobbed softly. I looked at the fire and was frightened. I saw my grandmother with an empty pocket on her head and a horse quilt wrapped around her body, rushing towards the blazing house, shouting: "Sulfate, you idiots! Sulfate is going to explode..." Right there Amid people's astonishment, she came out covered in smoke, holding a bucket of sulfate.

She ran around the courtyard, going wherever there was anything. Everyone obeyed her orders, and nothing could escape her eyes.

The fire was put out. I was just about to fall asleep when the house became as busy as a fire. Aunt Natalia was about to give birth to a baby. I climbed down from the kang, and as soon as I reached my uncle, he suddenly grabbed my feet and pulled hard, causing me to fall to the floor. "Asshole", I couldn't help calling him. He jumped up, grabbed me up, and roared: "I'll throw you to death!"

I woke up and knew that Aunt Natalia had died in childbirth. I just felt something swelling in my head and heart; what I saw in this room was like a convoy of trucks on the winter street, slowly passing over me, crushing everything At the end of spring, the uncles separated: Yakov stayed in the city, Mikhail moved to the other side of the river, and my grandfather bought a big house. The whole house was full of tenants, and my grandfather only reserved a large room upstairs for himself and to receive guests. My grandmother and I lived on the top floor.

My grandfather sometimes became kind to me. Even when he was in a good mood, he hit me less and less. He taught me how to read and even told me stories. But what he talked about was mostly his past history, which was different from what his grandmother told him.

But our peace was soon shattered. One night, Uncle Yakov came and said that Uncle Mikhail was drunk. He also said that Uncle Mikhail claimed that he would "pluck out his father's beard and kill him!" Grandfather's face was twisted and sharp. He shouted: "I know you got him drunk, you taught him! You want to get all the family property, right?"

Uncle Mikhail came drunkenly . He went into a tavern down the street. Later, it was his grandmother and Uncle Yakov who dragged him away from the tavern.

Uncle Mikhail often came in the evening, even bringing a few helpers, going crazy with alcohol, uprooting fruit trees, and even destroying bathrooms. Grandpa was in agony and his face turned black.

Finally the conflict intensified. Once, my uncle came with a thick wooden stick. He opened the door on the steps, and waiting for him behind the door were his grandfather holding a big stick and two tenants holding long pointed sticks. Grandma begged on the side, but Grandpa just said to the tenant: "Hit the arms and legs, but don't hit the head...".

My grandmother threw herself at a small window next to the door and told my uncle to run. But the uncle's red eyes shined on her arm like a stick, and grandma fell down. "Oh, what's wrong with the old woman?" Grandfather yelled horribly.

The door suddenly opened, and my uncle jumped into the dark doorway, but was immediately thrown out from the steps like he was shoveling garbage.

Grandma groaned. The grandfather looked at his tied son, sighed, and came to his grandmother's bed. "They are going to torture us to death, old woman!" "Give them all your property..." It could be heard that they did not want to give the share of property given to my mother to my uncles.

They talked for a long time. Grandma’s voice was low and pitiful, but Grandfather was making a lot of noise and getting angry.

I understood very early on: my grandfather had one God, and my grandmother had another God.

Almost every morning, my grandmother received new words of praise and prayed passionately, moved, and devoutly. Her prayers were always songs of praise, sincere and forthright praise.

Her God was with her all day long, even to the beasts. I understand that all living things - people, things, birds, bees, grass, obey her God easily and docilely; God is the same charity and the same kindness to everything in the world.

Once, the hostess of the tavern scolded my grandmother and even threw carrots at her.

I saw an opportunity to take revenge by locking the hostess in the cellar. My grandmother taught me a few words that I will never forget, "Dear child, you must remember: Don't meddle in adults' affairs! Adults have learned bad things; God is testing them, and you have not been tested yet. You should follow the example of your children." Wait for God to open your mind and show you what you should do and lead you on the path you should take. Do you understand? It is not your business to judge who has made any mistakes. , punishment.”

Grandpa’s prayers are often full of pain and helplessness. "Extinguish the flame of my pain, I am poor and bad!" "I only sin against you alone - please turn your face and don't look at my sin...". When he told me about the infinite power of God, he always first emphasized the cruelty of this power. He said that if people sin, they will be drowned. If they sin again, they will be burned to death, and their cities will be destroyed. He said, God punishes people with hunger and plague. He will always rule the world with a sword and deal with sinners with a whip.

Grandma’s God is the loving friend of all living things. My grandfather’s God made me fearful and hostile: he loved no one, looked at everything with a stern eye, and he first looked for and saw the bad, evil, and sinful side of people.

My family didn’t want me to play in the street because the children on the street always bullied me. What made me even more sad was that the old worker Grigory was completely blind and was begging on the street. Grandfather no longer employs people.

My grandfather sold the house to the owner of the tavern and bought another house. There were people living around, but the one that attracted me the most was a tenant named "Good Things."

His room was almost filled with boxes and books. There were bottles filled with liquids of various colors, pieces of steel, and strips of lead everywhere. From morning to night, his whole body was covered with unknown paint, his hair was disheveled, and he was always melting lead and welding small copper objects there. This man's magic tricks intrigued me.

Everyone in the house disliked this good thing, thinking that he was a pharmacist, a wizard and a dangerous person. But I became increasingly curious about him. So, one day, I mustered up the courage to open his door.

From then on, I was always with him. Ordinary things in the yard will become particularly meaningful after a word or two from him. A cat ran into the yard, stopped in front of a bright puddle, looked at its own shadow, raised its paws, as if to beat it, - the good thing said softly: "The cat is again Proud and suspicious..." The big golden-red rooster flew to the fence, stood still, flapped its wings, and almost fell down. It got angry, stretched its neck, and grunted angrily. "This general has such a big air, but he's not very smart..." There was a kid who always bullied me, and I couldn't beat him. After hearing my story, the good thing said, "This is a small thing; this kind of strength is nothing." Strength, real strength lies in the speed of movement; the faster, the more powerful - do you understand? "His words really came true, I defeated that child, it's so amazing if it's a good thing!

Soon I developed a strong attachment to good things, and he became an indispensable person for me both in painful and humiliating days and in happy moments.

I went to the tenants and my grandfather gradually found out. Every time I went, he would beat me up. Later, the good thing was finally driven away by my grandfather.

My friendship with the first of countless wonderful people ended like this.

When I was a child, I imagined that I was a beehive, with all kinds of ordinary rough people, all like bees, sending honey-knowledge and ideas about life into the beehive. The generosity that can be achieved enriches my soul in abundance. This honey is often dirty and bitter, but as long as it is knowledge, it is honey.

After the good things were over, Uncle Peter and I became very close. He likes to talk and seems kind and happy, but his eyes are often bloodshot and cloudy, sometimes as still as a dead person.

A gentleman moved to our street. He had a very strange habit: every day off, he would sit at the window and shoot dogs, cats, chickens and crows with a shotgun. I didn’t like him. Pedestrians were also shot.

On one occasion, the shooter put several pellets into my grandfather’s leg. Grandfather was furious. A petition was submitted to the judge, and victims and witnesses were summoned from the streets, but the man suddenly disappeared.

Every time he heard gunshots on the street, Uncle Peter ran towards the street.

Sometimes he wandered for a long time with no results, probably because the hunter didn't recognize him as a wild bird worth shooting. After a while, he was finally shot. He walked up to us and said with satisfaction: "Keep your shirt on!" I was a little scared, so I asked: "Can Master beat people to death?" "Why not? Yes. They beat each other to death too."

He is very affectionate to me and talks to me more kindly than talking to adults. When he invited everyone to eat jam, the jam on my slice of bread was very thick. He also told me many stories, but they were all strangely similar: in each story there were things that tortured, betrayed, and oppressed people.

After some time, I got to know the three children in Colonel Ovsennikov’s courtyard. We were friendly and had a lot of fun. But Uncle Peter thought they were young masters and poisonous snakes. This makes me feel obnoxious. Those three children were also beaten at home, and they had nothing to feel sorry for me about.

Later, I discovered that Uncle Peter was getting more and more depressed and mentally ill. He no longer invited people to eat jam, his face became dry, the wrinkles became deeper, and he walked unsteadily, like a sick person.

One day, the police came to look for Uncle Peter, but he was gone. A few days later, Uncle Peter committed suicide in my backyard.

According to my grandmother’s guests, Uncle Peter’s real name is not known, but he is related to a case. He and his accomplices had robbed churches long ago.

After listening to it, I seemed to feel that all people had become short, fat, and scary...

One Saturday morning, my mother came to my grandfather's house in a carriage. My mother wore a large, warm and soft red dress, with a row of large black buttons nailed diagonally from the shoulders to the lower placket. I felt that my mother was beautiful, young, and better than anyone else.

The arrival of my mother changed my life like a wild horse. My mother began to teach me "secular" writing and let me learn to recite poems. From then on, we both became annoyed with each other. I often mispronounce the words in the poems. I know how to pronounce them in my heart, but I always pronounce them wrong when I speak them. Sometimes I mispronounce it on purpose. In fact, I like to arrange some meaningless lines of poetry, or rephrase these lines in another way. This may be the creative desire shown in my childhood, but this always makes my mother angry. When I told my grandmother in the hammock, she sometimes laughed, but usually scolded me.

I feel that life is difficult, not only because my mother teaches me more and more lessons, which are becoming more and more difficult to understand; more importantly, my mother is becoming more and more frowning, often sitting by the garden window. He sat in silence for a long time, and his whole person became unkempt and more and more angry.

I also saw that my grandfather was preparing something that would scare my grandmother and mother. One night, after my grandfather and mother had a quarrel, my mother went to the tenant's house again. My grandfather beat my grandmother so hard that several thick hairpins penetrated deeply into her scalp. When I mustered up the courage to pull her out, the hairpins were bent. My grandmother begged me not to tell my mother, and I agreed, but my heart was filled with hatred for my grandfather. I finally found a suitable opportunity to take revenge. In the box on the top floor were twelve holy images that my grandfather cherished. When he wasn't paying attention, I grabbed a few and ran downstairs, took out the scissors, climbed onto the hammock and started to cut the saint's head. Before I could cut the third Two pictures, my grandfather came and he was about to give me a good beating. My mother arrived in time and learned from me that my grandmother had been beaten. My grandfather felt very humiliated.

In order to prevent his mother from interacting with the tenants, my grandfather kicked out the original tenants. The room has been rearranged, and grandpa wants to treat a guest. Uncle Yakov also came, and brought with him a one-eyed and bald watchmaker. I didn't like him because he was ugly and weird, but my grandfather wanted to marry my mother to him. During the day on a Sunday, the watchmaker came, and my grandfather forced my mother to see him. My mother firmly refused and took off her coat and skirt to show resistance. My grandfather had no choice but to compromise, and my grandmother sent the watchmaker away politely. The mother's resistance to marriage was successful.

Since this happened, my mother immediately became strong, straightened her back, and became the master of the family. However, my grandfather became unnoticed. He hardly went out and always sat in the attic reading a mysterious book. He talked to his mother more gently and got less angry.

There were many precious clothes and various gemstone necklaces in my grandfather's box. My grandfather gave these things to my mother.

Mother was dressing more and more beautifully. She lived in two rooms in the front room, and guests often came and went. The two most frequent visitors were officer Peter and Yevgeny. Mother Later she married him.

After the lively Christmas, my mother sent me and Uncle Mikhail’s son Sasha to school. A month later, Sasha began skipping school and carefully burying her schoolbag in the snow. Grandfather had to hire an escort for us. But Sasha finally ran away. He wanted to be a robber because his stepmother, father and grandfather did not love him. And I decided to become an officer.

I contracted smallpox and was placed on the attic at the back and lay in bed for more than three months. As I lay there, I heard the house getting more and more noisy, as if something was about to happen. My grandmother often came to see me, but she didn't tell me.

My grandmother drank frequently and took the initiative to tell me stories about my father.

My father was orphaned when he was nine years old. He became an excellent carpenter when he was twenty years old. He secretly fell in love with my mother and became privately married for life. Once, while my grandmother and mother were picking cranberries in the garden, my father climbed over the wall and proposed. My grandmother knew that my grandfather would firmly oppose the marriage, but she felt pity for the young couple and decided to let them go and agreed to hold the wedding a week later. When my grandfather learned about it and tried to stop it, the newlyweds were already standing Up the church corridor. My grandfather vowed never to see his father or mother again.

When I was about to be born, my grandfather forgave them, and my father and mother moved to my grandfather's house. My father is a lively and smart man who often plays pranks. The two uncles hated their father very much. One night, they tricked his father into an ice cave and almost killed him. In the spring of the next year, my father and mother left on the first sailing ship.

When I couldn't sleep at night, I made up some tragic stories. My father was always alone, walking somewhere with a stick in his hand. Followed by a long-haired dog.

My mother rarely comes to see me, and when she comes she is in a hurry. There are new changes in her that I don't know about.

One evening, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I felt that my legs were also awake. I know it won't be long before I can walk again, which is great.

My mother married Maximov. Then they went to Moscow and left me at my grandfather's house.

My grandfather and I were busy in the garden. When my grandfather was resting, he said to me: "You must learn to work independently and don't listen to others! You must live honestly and steadily. But live a stubborn life! You can listen to anyone, but do whatever you think is good..."

In the autumn, my grandfather sold the house and divided the house with my grandmother. Soon, my mother and stepfather came back and said that there was a fire in the house and everything was burned down. My grandfather was depressed for a while and suddenly said loudly to his stepfather: "I heard that there was no fire, sir. It was you." I lost all my money playing cards...".

I lived with my mother and started to get wild. Every time I went to the street, I would be beaten with bruises by the children on the street. --Fighting is my only favorite entertainment and has become a hobby. My mother whipped me with a belt, but the punishment infuriated me even more. The next time, the child and I beat each other more fervently, and my mother punished me even more severely. The green flames smelling like charcoal and resenting everything, the heavy feeling of dissatisfaction, and the feeling of being alone in this gray lifeless and boring atmosphere often erupted in my heart like ashes. cigarette.

My stepfather was very strict with me, ignored my mother, and quarreled with her more and more often.

I had already gone to school, and everything disgusted me, but a bishop later made me feel very kind and happy. In order to buy fairy tale books, I took one ruble from home. Although I didn't want to hide the money, I was beaten by my mother. The students at school said I was a thief, so I didn’t want to go to school anymore.

Once, my father beat my mother. He kicked her in the chest with his leg. During the quarrel, I learned that my father had gone to some woman’s house. I picked up a knife and stabbed my father in the waist with all my strength. When the mother saw it, she screamed and pushed her stepfather away, stabbing only a little of his flesh. He pressed the waist and ran.

Later, I told my mother that if I killed my stepfather, I would also kill myself. I thought, I'm going to do this, I'm going to try to do it anyway.

To this day, I can still see that obscene long leg swinging back and forth in the air, kicking the woman's chest with its toes.

I moved to my grandfather's house again. Grandfather and grandmother have completely different lives, and everything is separate: today it is grandma who pays for the vegetables and lunch, and tomorrow it is grandpa who pays for the vegetables and bread. On the day when it is his turn to buy, the lunch will be worse as usual, and grandma pays for it. All the food he bought was good meat, and he always bought some intestines, liver, lungs, and beef belly. Everyone keeps the tea and sugar for themselves, and even the oil for the lamps used to light the holy images is bought by everyone.

Looking at my grandfather’s tricks, I was both amused and disgusted, but my grandmother only thought it was ridiculous.

I also started to make money. Every day off, I would pick up cow bones, rags, shredded paper, and nails.

I picked up rags with a few friends and went to the lumber factory to steal firewood and planks. In this village, stealing has become a kind of custom. It is not considered a crime, and it is almost a crime for the half-fed and half-starved citizens. It is the only means of making a living.

The stepfather was fired and disappeared. The mother is silent and thin, and the little brother is sick and too weak to even cry loudly.

My mother is getting thinner and thinner. Her slender body was like a fir tree with its branches bent. She became completely mute. Sometimes, I would lie in silence in a corner for an entire day, slowly dying. She was dying—of course I felt it and knew it.

My mother died at noon on a Friday in August. My stepfather had just come back and found a job in a place where my grandmother and little brother had moved to him.

When people were scattering dry sand on my mother’s coffin, my grandmother walked towards the mass grave like a blind person. She bumped into the cross and broke her face...

A few days after burying his mother. My grandfather said to me: "Hey, listen to me, you are not a medal, and there is no place for you to hang around my neck. You can go to the human world and make a living..."

So I went to the human world. Went.