Invisible Praskovya
... An occupied village in which the fascists plundered everything they could, from food to clothing. Coldly. Russian frost doesn’t indulge its people either, and doesn’t like strangers at all. Therefore, the Germans took away even the bast shoes of women - they kindled bonfires.
Praskovya Fedotova, like the others, carried all the mattresses, pillows, and blankets. They pulled out a soft sheep veil from a wicker, half-collapsed cradle, which served the elder children of Praskovya in good time, and now it warmed the little son. The boy was born the first military in winter. It was Praskovya's late child, the third. She loved all her children, but this one especially. She dreamed of her mother that now, when she herself had gathered a life of the mind-mind, would raise her son happy. She even made toys for him, who was not yet born. She carved out of wooden trees boats and figures different, but in this case Praskovya understood her sense, her father was a skilled carver.
A woman was preparing to meet happiness, and the door was already opened. And the grief entered the house. Huge - all over the country - and fit in a small hut. In the first days of the war, Praskovia’s husband and eldest son went to the front. The funeral came to her husband at the end of the summer. And in the autumn of the same year, the Germans occupied the village (this is about the Tver region).
At first, only products were selected. Praskovya and her daughter slowly dragged their small stocks of potatoes and beets into a hole behind the garden, sprinkled them with earth. They did it just in time: after shooting chickens and ducks (practicing accuracy), the fascists ordered to bring “Russian potato”. The woman opened the cellar and showed that it was empty. Believe it.
Things were rolling toward winter, and the Germans took away warm things. Praskovya and his daughter had only a straw mattress - he was already very old and unsightly. And yet - a duvet, which I wrote about at the beginning of the publication. The baby has not yet been born, and therefore did not know its semi-orphanhood and loss, hunger and fear. But even his last thing had to be hidden from enemies.
One day, a thought occurred to her daughter: behind the village was a pea field. Maybe something else left in the fall? And the girl quietly from her mother went there. She knew that Praskovya would not be allowed, because it was forbidden to go outside the village on pain of death. Yes, it is clear that my daughter really wanted to please her mother. A child is a child! She exploded a mine.
On the same day, little Sasha, who was distraught with grief and mother, was born - thanks to the old neighbor who once worked as a nurse. The boy’s property is a half-collapsed cradle and a blanket. And the elder brother and mother remained from the big family. Brother fought somewhere far away. Mom - next.
Front approaching. It became ever clearer that our fighters would get to the village today or tomorrow. The invaders understood this, and therefore they became more and more. But Sasha for the time being understood only hunger and cold and therefore he cried all the time. He lacked a strong man to weep for days, and he constantly whined plaintively. Praskovya often took him in her arms, trying to pump him. At one of those moments, a fascist entered the hut. Tightened, fully dressed, fully armed - it is immediately clear that he is ready for battle. It is not clear just what he wanted, it will henceforth remain a secret. He looked around the hut - and pointed Praskovie to the door. She put Sasha and married the German. But I didn’t have time to walk a dozen steps, when a desperately loud crying was heard: the son, having a little rest in his mother’s arms, gained strength and now wanted again in his arms. The woman died: an incredible pity for the child struggled at that moment with the fear of a fascist. This hitch enraged the enemy. He turned around and wanted to enter the hut again. And at that moment the woman understood that the last minute of her Sasha's life had come. The war took away almost everything from her: a peaceful life, a husband, a daughter - and in exchange presented her son. She is not willing to give the baby the happiness she dreamed of. But he could stand up for his life.
And Praskovya, small in stature, grabbed a pitchfork and in an instant shoved them into the back of the enemy - he didn’t even gasp, fell down. At that instant, the mother was paying for everything: for losses and fear, for pain and need. The fascist became for her not only a monster who almost killed the child, but the embodiment of a huge evil that came to his native land.
... She came to her senses in a moment, understood that it was necessary to somehow hide the traces of the incident. She ran into the house, pulled out that single mattress, put the dead German on him and dragged her to the field with a garden. Far from being able to - the forces are over. But still pulled a decent distance, and the place next to the house sprinkled with snow. Praskovya did not doubt that now she would be found and shot. But after all she had experienced, she was struck by a kind of stupor, like madness. She returned to the house, wrapped Sashenka more tightly and began to sing him a lullaby.
Had it all happened the day before — a woman, of course, would have been killed. But on the same day the battle for the village began, the occupation came to an end.
I don’t know anything more about Praskovia, nor about her older son and Sasha. Although they say that the shell falls into one hole and twice, and three times, but then there is justice in the world. So, the continuation of this stories light And, representing small Praskovia, for some reason I see a high Motherland in Volgograd. With a burning ruby on the sword, in flowing clothing. Full of enormous power, which gives a person love.
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