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A horse with a pink mane. Composition: A horse with a pink mane

A horse with a pink mane. Composition: A horse with a pink mane

20.06.2020

Grandmother came back from the neighbors and told me that the Levontievsky children were going to the ridge for strawberries, and ordered me to go with them.

You will pick up the tuesok. I will take my berries to the city, I will sell yours too and buy you a gingerbread.

Horse, grandma?

Horse, horse.

Horse gingerbread! This is the dream of all village kids. He is white-white, this horse. And his mane is pink, his tail is pink, his eyes are pink, his hooves are also pink. Grandmother never allowed me to carry pieces of bread. Eat at the table, otherwise it will be bad. But gingerbread is a completely different matter. You can put the gingerbread under your shirt, run around and hear the horse kicking its hooves into its bare stomach. Chilling with horror - lost - grab his shirt and be convinced with happiness - here he is, here the horse-fire!

With such a horse, I will immediately honor how much attention! The Levontievsky guys fawn on you this way and that, and they give you the first to beat the siskin, and shoot from the slingshot, so that only they will be allowed to bite off the horse or lick it later. When you give the Levontievsky Sanka or Tanka a bite, you need to hold with your fingers the place where it is supposed to bite off, and hold it firmly, otherwise Tanka or Sanka will bite so that the tail and mane of the horse will remain.

Levonty, our neighbor, worked on badogs together with Mishka Korshukov. Levonty harvested wood for badogi, sawed it, chopped it and handed it over to the lime plant, which was opposite the village, on the other side of the Yenisei. Once every ten days, or maybe fifteen, I don’t remember exactly - Levontiy received money, and then in the neighboring house, where there were only children and nothing more, a feast began with a mountain. Some kind of restlessness, a fever, or something, seized not only the Levontievsky house, but also all the neighbors. Early in the morning, Aunt Vasenya, the wife of Uncle Levonti, ran to her grandmother, out of breath, driven away, with rubles clutched in her handful.

Stop, you freak! her grandmother called. - You have to count.

Aunt Vasenya dutifully returned, and while her grandmother was counting the money, she moved with her bare feet, like a hot horse, ready to rush as soon as the reins were released.

Grandmother counted thoroughly and for a long time, smoothing out every ruble. As far as I remember, my grandmother never gave Levontikha more than seven or ten rubles from the “reserve” for a rainy day, because all this “reserve” seemed to consist of ten. But even with such a small amount, the dilapidated Vasenya managed to shortchange one ruble, when even a whole threefold.

How do you handle money, you eyeless scarecrow! grandma attacked a neighbor. - A ruble for me, a ruble for another! What will it do? But Vasenya again threw up a whirlwind with her skirt and rolled away.

I handed it over!

For a long time my grandmother slandered Levontikha, Levonti himself, who, in her opinion, was not worth bread, but ate wine, beat her thighs with her hands, spat, I sat down at the window and looked longingly at the neighbor's house.

He stood by himself, in the open space, and nothing prevented him from looking at the white light with somehow glazed windows - no fence, no gate, no architraves, no shutters. Uncle Levontiy didn’t even have a bathhouse, and they, Levontiev’s, bathed in the neighbors, most often with us, bringing water and a supply of firewood from the lime plant.

One good day, perhaps even evening, Uncle Levonty was rocking the wobble and, forgetting himself, sang the song of sea wanderers heard on the voyages - he was once a sailor.

Sailed down the akiyan

From Africa sailor,

Baby obezyanu

He brought in a box ...

The family calmed down, listening to the voice of the parent, absorbing a very harmonious and pitiful song. Our village, besides the streets, suburbs and lanes, is tailored and folded also in song - every family, the surname had “its own”, crown song, which deeper and more fully expressed the feelings of this and no other relatives. To this day, when I remember the song “The Monk Fell in Love with a Beauty,” I see Bobrovsky Lane and all the Bobrovskys, and goosebumps scatter on my skin from shock. Trembling, shrinking heart from the song "chess knee": "I was sitting at the window, my God, and the rain was dripping on me." And how to forget Fokine’s soul-tearing: “In vain I broke the bars, in vain I escaped from prison, my dear, dear little wife lies on the chest of another”, or my beloved uncle: “Once in a cozy room”, or in memory of the deceased mother , which is still sung to this day: “Tell me, sister ...” But where do you remember everything and everyone? The village was large, the people were vociferous, daring, and relatives in the knees were deep and wide.

But all our songs slipped over the roof of Uncle Levontiy's settler - not one of them could disturb the hardened soul of a fighting family, and here on you, the Levontievsky eagles trembled, it must be a drop or two of sailor's, vagrant blood tangled in the veins of children, and she Their stamina washed away, and when the children were full, did not fight and did not exterminate anything, one could hear how a friendly chorus splashed out through the broken windows and wide open doors.

Task 15 of the OGE in the Russian language is presented in three versions, which makes it possible to choose.

15.1 - usually has a linguistic focus, suggesting comments from the read text; the task requires the use of a scientific or journalistic style.
15.2 - aimed at the semantic understanding of the text; the ability to select arguments from the read text according to a given thesis is checked.
15.3 - offers to independently compose a thesis on a given topic and give two arguments: from the text and from life.

It is important to remember that the retold text without commenting will not be evaluated. Don't forget to quote. The volume of the essay must be at least 70 words.

Essay structure

The essay-reasoning is built according to the standard scheme:

Introduction(preparation for the perception of the topic of reasoning).
Thesis(the main statement requiring proof).
Arguments– proof of the correctness of the thesis (at least two proofs).
Conclusion(conclusion-generalization on the topic of the essay).

In some cases, the order of the paragraphs can be changed, sometimes the introduction can be omitted, using the thesis instead, as suggested by the test compilers.

When writing an essay-reasoning, it is desirable to use introductory words expressing your attitude to the problem or the sequence of evidence, for example: I think, I think, according to the author, firstly, secondly, therefore and etc.

Algorithm for writing an essay on the OGE

1 paragraph– Thesis, statement;

2 paragraph – I think (I think, I'm sure, etc.)... (explanation of the main thesis);

3 paragraph – For example (so, first of all, first of all, mainly, etc.), … (first proof argument);

4 paragraph- TO besides this (besides, secondly, besides, etc.)... (second argument-proof);

5 paragraph –Thus (therefore, so, in other words, etc.),... (conclusions, generalization).

This algorithm can be used as a reminder. Having achieved automaticity in its use, later you can deviate from this plan, filling the essay with deep meaning.

Below is the text, on the basis of which we will write three different versions of essays.

(1) Grandmother told me to go to the ridge for strawberries.

(2) I will take the berries to the city, sell and buy you a gingerbread.
(3) Horse, woman?
(4) Horse, horse.

(5) Gingerbread horse! (6) Well, this is the dream of all village kids. (7) He is white-white, this horse. (8) And his mane is pink, his tail is pink, his eyes are pink, his hooves are also pink.

(9) So with the eagles of Uncle Levontius, I went through the strawberries in order to earn a gingerbread with my labor. (10) I took it diligently and soon covered the bottom of the tuesk. (11) The Levontievsky children walked quietly at first, but soon a fuss was heard. (12) The heroic brothers are fighting, rolling on the ground, they crushed all the strawberries.

(13) Soon they decided to go down to the Fokinsky River, to splash. (14) I also wanted to, but I did not dare to leave the ridge, because I had not yet collected a full vessel.

(15) Grandmother Petrovna was scared! (16) Oh you! Sanka grimaced.
(17) Do you want to eat all the berries? - I said.
(18) Weak!
(19) I'm weak! I swaggered, looking askance into the tube. - (20) Here! (21) Eat with me!

(22) The Levontiev horde fell in, and the berries disappeared in an instant.

(23) Longing in the heart - it anticipates a meeting with a grandmother, a report and calculation.

(24) I quietly trailed behind the Levontiev guys from the forest.

(25) And you push the grass into the tues, berries on top - and the job is done! - said, after consulting with the brothers, Sanka and rushed home.

(26) And I stayed. (27) I stuffed a tuesok tightly with grass, collected several handfuls of berries, laid grass with them - it turned out strawberries even with a shock ...

(28) In the kitchen, the grandmother told someone in detail:

... (29) A cultured lady, in a hat. "(30) I'll buy all these berries." (31) Please, you are welcome. (32) Berries, I say, the miserable orphan collected ...

(33) Then I fell through the ground with my grandmother and could no longer and did not want to make out what she was saying next, because I covered myself with a sheepskin coat, huddled into it in order to die sooner.

(34) Grandfather reassured me, wiping with his big hand the tears that fell from my eyes with large strawberries.

(35) Ask for forgiveness, he gently pushed me in the back.

(36) I stepped into the hut and started:

(37) I am more ... (38) I am more ... - and could not say anything further.
(39) Okay, wash your face and sit down to crack! - still uncompromisingly, but already without a thunderstorm, without thunders, my grandmother cut me off.

(40) And she shamed me! (41) And she rebuked! (42) Only now, having fully understood what a bottomless abyss roguery plunged me into and what “crooked path” it will still take me to, if I reached out for robbery for dashing people, I already roared not just repenting, but frightened that I had disappeared, that no forgiveness, no return...

(45) I closed my eyes and opened my eyes again. (46) He closed his eyes again, opened them again.

(47) A white horse with a pink mane rode on pink hooves on a scraped kitchen table, as if on a vast land, with arable land, meadows and roads.

(48) Take it, take it, what are you looking at? (49) You look, but even when you miss your grandmother ...

(50) How many years have passed since then! (51) How many events have passed. (52) Grandfather is not alive, there is no grandmother, and my life is declining, but I still can’t forget my grandmother’s gingerbread - that marvelous horse with a pink mane.

(according to V.P. Astafiev)

Essay writing example 15.1

15.1 is considered the most difficult task option, which involves knowledge of linguistic science, knowledge of linguistic terms, the ability to analyze text from the position of vocabulary.

Usually, in such a task, some statement of a linguist is already given, which the authors propose to use as an introduction and thesis.

If in the task you come across terms that are not familiar to you or the meaning of which you cannot confidently formulate, it is better to refuse to complete the task and choose options 15.2 or 15.3.

If you know the meaning of each term, and you can easily find examples of their use by the author of the text, feel free to get to work.

In addition, 15.1 essays require a scholarly or journalistic style.

When writing an essay on a scientific topic, it is best to use a scientific style.

Consider an example of writing such an essay according to the above algorithm according to the text of V.P. Astafieva "Grandma told me to go to the hill ...".

“In artistic speech, dialectisms perform important stylistic functions: they help convey local color, the features of the speech of heroes, and finally, dialect vocabulary can be a source of speech expression,” says the well-known linguist I.B. Golub.

Note: to write an essay on a given topic, you need to know the meaning of the terms dialectism, dialect.

Dialectism is a word of a dialect used in a literary language.

A dialect is a dialect characteristic of a particular area.

I think her opinion is justified. Indeed, the elements of dialect dialects are able to convey the subtleties of the characters' images and their environment. With the help of dialectisms, the authors can express a special state that will immerse the reader in the world created by the artist.

In this paragraph, we briefly commented on the words of the linguist, agreeing with the point of view put forward.

For example , V.P. Astafiev, with the help of dialectisms, very clearly conveys the speech of the old people, forcing us to visually imagine their figures and practically hear their voices: “poor orphan” (proposal 32), “ask for forgiveness” (proposal 35).

Here we have given the first argument to prove the main thesis.

Besides When reading a text with dialect vocabulary, in some incredible way we begin to feel the inner state of the author himself. After the words “but even when you wash your grandmother” (sentence 49), you involuntarily feel a sense of guilt and gratitude to Astafiev’s heroine for her kindness and human wisdom.

The second argument in the proof of the main statement.

Thus , the use of dialectisms plays an important role in the perception of the text and understanding the images of the heroes of the work.

In the conclusion, we summarized all of the above.

Essay writing example 15.2

15.2 - an essay that involves working directly with an understanding of the meaning of the text, its ideas, topics and problems. Let us try to explain the meaning of the last sentence of V.P. Astafiev.

The lessons of childhood are remembered for a lifetime, even when the circumstances and the people who taught them are far behind.

I think , this is what V.P. wanted to say. Astafiev in his text, describing the story of a gingerbread horse with a pink mane.

Firstly , remember the lesson helped the hero remorse. The author tells how all the village boys wanted to become the owner of a magic horse with a pink mane (sentence 6). The hero of the text was no exception. He was so overwhelmed with this dream that, succumbing to the bad influence of the neighbor's children, he went to deceit for the sake of making it come true. But having felt all the consequences of what he had done, he deeply repented of his dishonest act (sentence 42).

Secondly , the hero remembered the kindness of the grandmother, who bought the horse, despite his bad behavior (sentence 49). So she showed him that people should be generous and believe in the best, no matter what.

Thus , the people who educate us in childhood leave an indelible mark on our later life. Well, if this trace will have a positive effect on the human personality.

It is easy to write such an essay. The main thing is to understand for yourself what the author wanted to say with the last sentence and confirm his evidence with examples from the text.

Essay writing example 15.3

Essay 15.3 can be called an essay on a free topic. Here you can give scope to your imagination and give one argument from your own life. However, in this case, it will be necessary to create your own thesis - to define the given concept. In this case, this concept is good.

Good is a concept denoting the state when the well-being of another person or object is more valuable than one's own, despite all the shortcomings of this object or the inconvenience associated with its well-being.

I think , good does not require anything in return, does not expect gratitude or obedience. However, sometimes it can change a person for the better.

So , in the text of V.P. Astafiev, the kindness of the grandmother made the hero remember forever what dishonesty and deceit threatens (sentence 52). He carried this lesson through his whole life and no longer repeated past mistakes.

Besides , our simple life would become unbearable without goodness, good deeds. Saving a kitten freezing from the cold, feeding a homeless dog, providing first aid to someone in need - all this is a manifestation of kindness. Without it, there would be no mercy.

In other words kindness is one of the most important characteristics of the life of our society. The more it is, the more chances we have for development and prosperity.

Remember! When writing an essay, it is important to follow the following guidelines:

First of all, carefully read the text and all the options for tasks.
Choose the option that is closest and most understandable to you.
Sketch out an essay plan in a draft and begin to consistently express thoughts based on the text you have read.
Re-read, check for stylistic, spelling and punctuation errors.
Transfer the essay to the answer sheet in neat and legible handwriting.

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Grandmother came back from the neighbors and told me that the Levontievsky children were going to the ridge for strawberries, and ordered me to go with them.

You will pick up the tuesok. I will take my berries to the city, I will sell yours too and buy you a gingerbread.

Horse, grandma?

Horse, horse.

Stop, you freak! her grandmother called. - You have to count.

Aunt Vasenya dutifully returned, and while her grandmother was counting the money, she moved with her bare feet, like a hot horse, ready to rush as soon as the reins were released.

I handed it over!

One good day, perhaps even evening, Uncle Levonty was rocking the wobble and, forgetting himself, sang the song of sea wanderers heard on the voyages - he was once a sailor.

Sailed down the akiyan

From Africa sailor,

Baby obezyanu

He brought in a box ...

But all our songs slipped over the roof of Uncle Levontiy's settler - not one of them could disturb the hardened soul of a fighting family, and here on you, the Levontievsky eagles trembled, it must be a drop or two of sailor's, vagrant blood tangled in the veins of children, and she their steadfastness washed away, and when the children were full, did not fight and did not exterminate anything, one could hear how a friendly chorus splashed out through the broken windows and wide open doors:

She sits, longing

All night long

And such a song

He sings about his homeland:

"In the warm-warm south,

In my homeland

Friends live and grow

And there are no people at all ... "

Uncle Levonty bored the song with a bass, added a roar to it, and because of this, the song, and the guys, and he himself, as it were, changed their appearance, became more beautiful and united, and then the river of life flowed in this house in a calm, even channel. Aunt Vasenya, a person of unbearable sensitivity, irrigating her face and chest with tears, howling into an old burnt apron, spoke out about human irresponsibility - some drunken scumbag scooped up a scumbag, dragged her from her homeland for no reason and for what? And here, poor thing, she sits and yearns all night long ... And, throwing herself up, suddenly glared at her husband with wet eyes - but wasn’t he, wandering around the wide world, done this dirty deed ?! Didn't he whistle the monkey? He's drunk and doesn't know what he's doing!

Uncle Levonty, repentantly accepting all the sins that it is possible to hang on a drunk person, wrinkled his forehead, trying to understand: when and why did he take the monkey away from Africa? And, if he took away, kidnapped the animal, then where did it go afterwards?

In the spring, the Levontiev family dug a little into the ground around the house, erected a fence out of poles, twigs, and old planks. But in winter, all this gradually disappeared in the womb of the Russian stove, squatting in the middle of the hut.

Tanka Levontievskaya used to say this, making noise with her toothless mouth, about their whole establishment:

But as a tyatka will shove us - you run and do not stop.

Uncle Levonty himself went out into the street on warm evenings in his trousers, held on by a single copper button with two eagles, in a calico shirt, without buttons at all. He sat down on a block of wood studded with an ax, which depicted a porch, smoked, looked, and if my grandmother reproached him through the window for idleness, listed the work that he had, in her opinion, to do in the house and around the house, uncle Levonty scratched himself complacently.

I, Petrovna, love the settlement! - and waved his hand around him:

Fine! Like the sea! None of the eyes are oppressed!

Uncle Levonty loved the sea, and I loved it. The main goal of my life was to break into Levontius's house after his pay, listen to a song about a little monkey and, if necessary, bring up the mighty choir. Getting out isn't easy. Grandmother knows all my habits in advance.

There is nothing to look out for pieces, - she thundered. - There is nothing to eat these proletarians, they themselves have a louse on a lasso in their pocket.

But if I managed to sneak out of the house and get to the Levontievskys, that's all, then I was surrounded by rare attention, then I was completely happy.

Get out of here! - the drunken uncle Levonty strictly ordered one of his boys. And while one of them reluctantly got out from behind the table, he explained to the children his strict action in a already limp voice: - He is an orphan, and you are all with your parents! - And, looking pitifully at me, he roared: - Do you even remember your mother? I nodded in the affirmative. Uncle Levonty sadly leaned on his arm, rubbed his tears down his face with his fist, remembering; - Badogi with her for one year pricked-and-and! - And completely bursting into tears: - When you come ... night-midnight ... prop ... you lost head, Levonty, will say and ... get drunk ...

Aunt Vasenya, Uncle Levonty's children and I, together with them, burst into a roar, and it became so pitiful in the hut, and such kindness seized people that everything spilled out and fell out on the table and everyone vied with each other to treat me and themselves ate already through force, then they sang the song, and tears flowed like a river, and after that I dreamed of the miserable monkey for a long time.

Late in the evening, or quite at night, Uncle Levontiy asked the same question: “What is life?!” After that, I grabbed gingerbread, sweets, the Levontievsky kids also grabbed whatever they could get their hands on and scattered in all directions.

Vasenya set the last move, and my grandmother greeted her until the morning. Levontiy smashed the remnants of glass in the windows, swore, rattled, and wept.

The next morning, he glassed the windows with fragments, repaired the benches, the table, and, full of gloom and remorse, went to work. After three or four days, Aunt Vasenya again went to the neighbors and no longer tossed up a whirlwind with her skirt, again borrowed money, flour, potatoes - whatever she had to pay.

It was with the eagles of Uncle Levontiy that I went through the strawberries in order to earn a gingerbread with my labor. The children carried goblets with broken edges, old, half-torn for kindling, birch bark tueski, krinki tied around the throat with twine, who had ladles without handles. The boys went wild, wrestled, threw dishes at each other, tripped each other, started to fight twice, cried, teased. On the way, they jumped into someone's garden, and, since nothing had ripened there yet, they piled on a bunch of onions, ate until they had green saliva, and threw the rest away. Left a few feathers on the whistles. They squeaked and danced into bitten feathers, we walked merrily to the music, and we soon came to a rocky ridge. Then everyone stopped playing around, scattered through the forest and began to take strawberries, just ripening, white-sided, rare, and therefore especially joyful and expensive.

I took it diligently and soon covered the bottom of the neat tueska of the glass for two or three.

Grandmother said: the main thing in berries is to close the bottom of the vessel. I sighed with relief and began to collect strawberries more quickly, and I came across more and more of them higher up the ridge.

The Levontievsky children walked quietly at first. Only the lid tinkled, tied to a copper teapot. The older boy had this teapot, and he rattled so that we could hear that the older boy was here, nearby, and we had nothing to fear and nothing to do.

Suddenly the lid of the teapot rattled nervously, and there was a fuss.

Eat, right? Eat, right? What about home? What about home? - the elder asked and gave someone a cuff after each question.

Ah-ha-ha-ha! - Tanya sang. - Shazhral shazhral, duck nothing-oh-oh ...

Sanka also got it. He got angry, threw the bowl and fell into the grass. The eldest took, took berries, and thought: he tries for the house, and those parasites out there are eating berries or even lying on the grass. The elder jumped up and kicked Sanka again. Sanka howled, rushed at the elder. The kettle rang, berries splashed out of it. The heroic brothers are fighting, rolling on the ground, all the strawberries have been crushed.

After the fight, the elder's hands dropped too. He began to collect the spilled, crushed berries - and into their mouth, into their mouth.

So you can, but I can't! You can, but I can't? he asked ominously until he had eaten everything he could gather.

Soon the brothers somehow imperceptibly reconciled, stopped calling names and decided to go down to the Fokinsky river, splash.

I also wanted to go to the river, I would also like to splash, but I did not dare to leave the ridge, because I had not yet collected a full vessel.

Grandmother Petrovna got scared! Oh you! - Sanka grimaced and called me a filthy word. He knew many such words. I also knew, I learned to say them from the Levontievsky guys, but I was afraid, maybe embarrassed to use filth and timidly declared:

But my grandmother will buy a gingerbread horse for me!

Maybe a mare? - Sanka grinned, spat at his feet and immediately realized something; - Tell me better - you are afraid of her and still greedy!

Do you want to eat all the berries? - I said this and immediately repented, I realized that I had fallen for the bait. Scratched, with bumps on his head from fights and various other causes, with pimples on his arms and legs, with red, bloodied eyes, Sanka was more harmful and meaner than all the Levontievsky guys.

Weak! - he said.

I'm weak! I swaggered, looking askance into the tube. There were berries already above the middle. - Am I weak? I repeated in a fading voice, and in order not to give in, not to be afraid, not to disgrace myself, I resolutely shook out the berries on the grass: “Here! Eat with me!

The Levontiev horde swooped in, the berries disappeared in an instant. I got only a few tiny, bent berries with greenery. Pity the berries. Sad. Anguish in the heart - it anticipates a meeting with a grandmother, a report and calculation. But I put on despair, waved my hand at everything - now it's all the same. I rushed along with the Levontievsky children downhill, to the river, and boasted:

I'll steal kalach from my grandmother!

The guys encouraged me to act, they say, and carry more than one roll, grab another shaneg or a pie - there will be nothing superfluous.

We ran along a shallow river, splashed with icy water, overturned the slabs and caught a sculpin - a piper with our hands. Sanka grabbed this vile-looking fish, compared it to shame, and we tore the fisherman to pieces on the shore for his ugly appearance. Then they shot stones at flying birds, knocked out a white belly. We soldered the swallow with water, but she bled into the river, she could not swallow water and died, dropping her head. We buried a white, flower-like bird on the shore, in pebbles, and soon forgot about it, because we were engaged in an exciting, terrible business: we ran into the mouth of a cold cave, where (the village knew for sure) evil spirits. Sanka ran furthest into the cave - even the evil spirits did not take him!

This is more! - Sanka boasted, returning from the cave. - I would have further escape, in a block of escape ba, but I'm barefoot, there is death of kites.

Zhmeev?! - Tanka retreated from the mouth of the cave and, just in case, pulled up her falling pants.

I saw a brownie with a brownie, - Sanka continued to tell.

Clapper! Brownies live in the attic and under the stove! - cut off Sanka the eldest.

Sanka was confused, but immediately challenged the elder:

What kind of brownie is that? Home. And here is the cave. All in moss, seray, trembling trembling - he is cold. And the housekeeper, thin and thin, looks plaintively and groans. Yes, you can’t lure me, just come and grab and devour. I stuck a stone in her eye!..

Maybe Sanka was lying about the brownies, but it was still scary to listen to, it seemed - very close in the cave, someone was moaning, moaning. Tanka was the first to pull from a bad place, after her the rest of the guys fell down from the mountain. Sanka whistled, yelled silly, giving us heat.

We spent the whole day so interesting and fun, and I completely forgot about the berries, but it was time to return home. We dismantled the dishes hidden under the tree.

Katerina Petrovna will ask you! Will ask! - neighed Sanka. We ate the berries! Haha! Really ate! Haha! We're good for nothing! Haha! And you, ho-ho!

I myself knew that for them, Levontevsky, “ha-ha!”, And for me “ho-ho!”. My grandmother, Katerina Petrovna, is not Aunt Vasenya, you won’t get rid of her with lies, tears and various excuses.

Quietly I trailed behind the Levontievsky guys from the forest. They ran ahead of me in a crowd, driving a ladle without a handle along the road. The ladle clanged, bounced on the stones, the remnants of enamel bounced off it.

Do you know what? - Having spoken with the bros, Sanka returned to me. - You push the grass into the tues, on top of the berries - and the job is ready! Oh my child! - began to imitate my grandmother Sanka with accuracy. - Helped you resurrect, orphan, help-silt. And the demon Sanka winked at me, and rushed on, down the ridge, home.

But I stayed.

The voices of the children under the ridge, behind the gardens, subsided, it became terribly. True, the village can be heard here, but still the taiga, the cave is not far away, in it there is a brownie with a brownie, snakes are swarming. I sighed, sighed, almost burst into tears, but I had to listen to the forest, the grass, whether the brownies were coming out of the cave. No time to whine here. Keep your ears open here. I tore the grass with a handful, and looked around myself. He stuffed a tight tuyesok with grass, on a goby, so that he could see closer to the light and at home, he collected several handfuls of berries, laid grass with them - it turned out to be strawberries even with a shock.

You are my child! - Grandma wailed when I, trembling with fear, handed her the vessel. - Lord helped you, wake up! I'll buy you a gingerbread, the biggest one. And I won’t pour your berries to my own, I’ll take you away right in this box ...

It eased a little.

I thought that now my grandmother would discover my fraud, give me what I was supposed to, and I was already preparing for punishment for the villainy I had committed. But it worked out. Everything worked out. Grandmother took the tuesok to the basement, praised me again, gave me something to eat, and I thought that I had nothing to be afraid of and that life was not so bad.

I ate, went outside to play, and there I was pulled to tell Sanka about everything.

And I'll tell Petrovna! And I'll tell!

Don't, Sanka!

Bring kalach, then I won't tell.

I sneaked into the closet, took a roll out of the chest and brought it to Sanka, under my shirt. Then he brought another, then another, until Sanka got drunk.

“Grandma cheated. Kalachi stole! What will happen? - I was tormented at night, tossing and turning on the floor. Sleep didn’t take me, the “Andelian” peace did not condescend to my fidgeting, to my Varnach soul, although my grandmother, having crossed me for the night, wished me not some, but the very “Andelian”, quiet sleep.

What are you doing there? Grandmother asked hoarsely from the darkness. - I suppose he wandered in the river again? Do your legs hurt again?

Nope, I replied. - I had a dream...

Sleep with God! Sleep, don't be afraid. Life is worse than dreams, father...

“But what if you get off the bed, climb under the covers to your grandmother and tell everything, everything?”

I listened. From below came the labored breathing of an old man. It's a pity to wake up, my grandmother is tired. She gets up early. No, it’s better I won’t sleep until the morning, I’ll watch my grandmother, I’ll tell about everything: about the tuyesok, and about the brownie with the brownie, and about the rolls, and about everything, about everything ...

This decision made me feel better, and I did not notice how my eyes closed. Sanka's unwashed face appeared, then the forest flashed by, grass, strawberries, she filled up Sanka, and everything that I saw during the day.

On the decks there was a smell of pine forest, a cold mysterious cave, the river murmured at the very feet and fell silent ...

Grandfather was at the zaimka, about five kilometers from the village, at the mouth of the Mana River. There we have sown a strip of rye, a strip of oats and buckwheat, and a large paddock planted with potatoes. Talk about collective farms was just beginning then, and our villagers lived alone for the time being. I liked to visit my grandfather at the castle. Quietly with him there, in detail, no oppression and supervision, run even until the very night. Grandfather never made any noise at anyone, he worked slowly, but very relentlessly and pliably.

Ah, if only the place was closer! I would leave, hide. But five kilometers for me was then an insurmountable distance. And Alyoshka is not there to wind away with him. Recently, Aunt Augusta came and took Alyoshka with her to the forest area, where she went to work.

I wandered about, wandered around the empty hut, and could think of nothing else but to go to the Levontievskys.

Petrovna swam away! - Sanka grinned and spit saliva into the hole between his front teeth. He could fit one more tooth in this hole, and we were crazy about this Sanya hole. How he spit into her!

Sanka was going fishing, unraveling the line. His little brothers and sisters pushed around, wandered around the benches, crawled, hobbled on crooked legs.

Sanka gave cracks to the right and left - the little ones climbed arm in arm, confused the fishing line.

There is no hook, - he grumbled angrily, - he must have swallowed some.

Nishtya-ak! Sanka reassured me. - They'll digest it. You got a lot of hooks, give it. I'll take you with me.

I rushed home, grabbed my fishing rods, put bread in my pocket, and we went to the stone steers, for the cattle, which descended directly into the Yenisei behind the log.

There was no old house. His father took him with him "to badogi", and Sanka commanded recklessly. Since he was the eldest today and felt a great responsibility, he didn’t bully himself in vain and, moreover, pacified the “people” if they started a dump.

At the gobies, Sanka set up fishing rods, baited worms, pecked at them and “from hand” threw the fishing lines in order to throw them further - everyone knows: the farther and deeper, the more fish and the larger it is.

Sha! - Sanka goggled his eyes, and we obediently froze. It didn't bite for a long time. We got tired of waiting, started pushing, giggling, teasing. Sanka endured, endured and drove us to look for sorrel, coastal garlic, wild radish, otherwise, they say, he does not vouch for himself, otherwise he will hit us all. The Levontiev guys knew how to soak themselves "from the earth", ate everything that God sent, did not disdain anything, and that's why they were red-faced, strong, dexterous, especially at the table.

Without us, Sanka really got sick. While we were collecting greens suitable for grub, he pulled out two ruffs, a minnow and a white-eyed spruce. They lit a fire on the beach. Sanka put fish on sticks, adapted them to fry, the children surrounded the fire and did not take their eyes off the heat. "Sa-an! - they whined soon. - It's gone! Sa-an! .. "

W-well, breaks! W-well, breaks! Can't you see that the ruff is yawning with gills? Toko would gobble up as soon as possible. Well, how will the belly grab, diarrhea? ..

Vitka Katerinino has diarrhea. We don't have.

What did I say?!

The fighting eagles fell silent. With Sanka it’s not painful to divorce turuses, he, a little something, and sticks. Tolerate the little ones, tossing their noses; strive to make the fire hotter. However, patience does not last long.

Well, Sa-an, there’s just coal ...

Choke!

The guys grabbed sticks with fried fish, tore them up on the fly and on the fly, groaning from the hot, ate them almost raw, without salt and bread, ate and looked around in bewilderment: already ?! We waited so much, endured so much and only licked our lips. My children also imperceptibly grinded bread and did something: they pulled out shoreline burrows, “blinded” stone tiles on the water, tried to swim, but the water was still cold, quickly jumped out of the river to warm themselves by the fire. They warmed up and fell into the still low grass, so as not to see how Sanka fries the fish, now for himself, now it's his turn, and then ask, don't ask - the grave. He won’t, because he loves to devour more than anyone else.

The day was clear and summery. It was hot on top. Ruffled cuckoo's shoes leaned towards the ground near the cattle. Blue bells dangled from side to side on long crunchy stems, and, probably, only the bees heard how they rang. Striped gramophone flowers lay on the heated ground near the anthill, and bumblebees stuck their heads into their blue mouthpieces. They froze for a long time, exposing their furry backsides, they must have been listening to the music. The birch leaves gleamed, the aspen forest was shriveled by the heat, the pine forest along the ridges was covered in blue smoke. Sunshine shimmered over the Yenisei. Through this flickering, the red vents of the lime kilns blazing on the other side of the river were barely visible. The shadows of the rocks lay motionless on the water, and the light opened them up, tore them to shreds, like old rags. The railway bridge in the city, visible from our village in clear weather, swayed with thin lace, and if you look at it for a long time, the lace thinned and torn.

From there, because of the bridge, grandmother should sail. What will be! And why did I do that? Why did he listen to the Levontievskys? Wow, how good it was to live. Walk, run, play and don't think about anything. Now what? There is nothing to hope for now. Is that an accidental deliverance. Maybe the boat will capsize and the grandmother will drown? No, it's better if it doesn't tip over. Mom drowned. What good? I am now an orphan. Unhappy person. And there is no one to pity me. Levonty, only drunk, regrets, and even grandfather - and that’s all, grandmother only screams, no, no, yes, yes, she will give in - she won’t be late. The main thing is that there is no grandfather. Grandpa is on the fence. He wouldn't hurt me. Grandmother yells at him: “Sweater! I’ve honed my whole life, now this one! ..” “Grandfather, you are grandfather, if only you came to the bathhouse to wash, even if you just came and took me with you!”

What are you sniffing? - Sanka leaned towards me with a preoccupied look.

Nishtya-ak! - Sanka consoled me. - Don't go home, that's all! Burrow in the hay and hide. Petrovna saw your mother's eyes half open when she was buried. Afraid - you will drown too. Here she is wailing: “My child will drown-u-ul, calm me down, little orphan,” - you’ll get out here! ..

I won't do that! I protested. And I won't listen to you!

Well, leshak with you! They are trying about you. In! Pecked! You pecked!

I fell off the ravine, disturbing the coasters in the holes, and pulled the fishing rod. Perch caught. Then ruff. The fish approached, biting began. We baited worms, threw them.

Don't step over the rod! - Sanka yelled superstitiously at the kids, completely stunned with delight, and dragged, dragged small fish. The boys put them on a willow rod, lowered them into the water and shouted at each other: “Who is told - do not cross the bait ?!”

Suddenly, behind a nearby stone steer, forged poles clicked along the bottom, and a boat appeared from behind the cape. Three men threw poles out of the water at once. Flashing with polished tips, the poles fell into the water at once, and the boat, burrowing along the lines into the river, rushed forward, throwing waves to the sides. The swing of the poles, the throwing of hands, the push - the boat jumped up with its bow, quickly leaned forward. She's closer, closer. Now the stern moved the pole, and the boat nodded away from our fishing rods. And then I saw another person sitting on the gazebo. A half-shawl on the head, its ends are passed under the armpits and tied crosswise on the back. Under the half-shawl is a burgundy-dyed jacket. This jacket was taken out of the chest on major holidays and on the occasion of a trip to the city.

I rushed from the rods to the ravine, jumped up, grabbed the grass, sticking my big toe into the hole. A shorebird flew up, poked me on the head, I fell on clods of clay out of fright, jumped up and ran along the shore, away from the boat.

Where are you going! Stop! Stop, I say! Grandma screamed.

I ran at full speed.

I-a-avishsha, I-avishsha home, swindler!

The men turned up the heat.

Hold it! - they shouted from the boat, and I did not notice how I ended up at the upper end of the village, where the shortness of breath, which always torments me, disappeared! I rested for a long time and soon discovered evening was approaching - willy-nilly I had to return home. But I didn't want to go home and, just in case, went to my cousin Kesha, Uncle Vanya's son, who lived here, on the upper edge of the village.

I'm lucky. They were playing rounders near Uncle Vanya's house. I got involved in the game and ran until dark. Aunt Fenya, Keshka's mother, appeared and asked me:

Why don't you go home? Grandma will lose you.

No, I answered as nonchalantly as possible. - She went to town. Maybe he sleeps there.

Aunt Fenya offered me something to eat, and I gladly churned everything she gave me, thin-necked Kesha drank boiled milk, and his mother told him reproachfully:

Everything is on milk and on milk. Look out how the boy eats, that's why he is strong, like a boletus mushroom. - I looked at Aunt Fenina's praise, and I began to quietly hope that she would leave me to spend the night.

But Aunt Fenya asked questions, asked me about everything, after which she took me by the hand and took me home.

There was no light in our hut. Aunt Fenya knocked on the window. "Not locked!" shouted the grandmother. We entered a dark and quiet house, where only the many-winged tapping of butterflies and the buzzing of flies beating against the glass could be heard.

Aunt Fenya pushed me back into the hallway, pushed me into a pantry attached to the hallway. There was a bed made of rugs and an old saddle in the head - in case someone gets hot during the day and wants to rest in the cold.

I buried myself in the rug, quieted down, listening.

Aunt Fenya and grandmother were talking about something in the hut, but they couldn’t make out what. The pantry smelled of bran, dust, and dry grass stuck in every crack and under the ceiling. This grass kept clicking and crackling. It was sad in the pantry. The darkness was thick, rough, filled with smells and secret life. Under the floor, alone and timidly, a mouse was scratching, starving because of a cat. And everyone crackled dry herbs and flowers under the ceiling, opened boxes, littered seeds into the darkness, two or three got tangled in my stripes, but I didn’t pull them out, afraid to move.

Silence, coolness and nightlife were established in the village. The dogs, killed by the heat of the day, came to their senses, climbed out from under the canopy, porches, from the kennels and tried their voices. At the bridge that was laid across the Fokinsky River, an accordion was chirping. Young people gather on the bridge, dance there, sing, scare the late kids and shy girls.

Uncle Levontiy was hastily chopping firewood. The owner must have brought something to the brew. Did the Levontievskys “knock off” a pole from someone? Most likely with us. There is time for them to hunt firewood at such a time far ...

Aunt Fenya left, tightly closed the door to the senki. The cat scurried furtively up to the porch. Under the floor, the mouse subsided. It became very dark and lonely. The floorboards did not creak in the hut, the grandmother did not walk. Tired. Not a short way to the city! Eighteen miles, but with a knapsack. It seemed to me that if I pity my grandmother, think well of her, she will guess about it and forgive me everything. Come and forgive. Well, once and click, so what's the trouble! For such a thing, and more than once you can ...

However, the grandmother did not come. I got cold. I curled up and breathed on my chest, thinking about my grandmother and about everything pathetic.

When my mother drowned, my grandmother did not leave the shore, they could not carry her away or persuade her with the whole world. She kept calling and calling for her mother, throwing crumbs of bread, silver, shreds into the river, pulled her hair out of her head, tied it around her finger and let it go with the flow, hoping to appease the river, propitiate the Lord.

Only on the sixth day, the grandmother, who had blossomed in her body, was almost dragged home. She, as if drunk, was muttering something delusionally, her hands and head almost reached the ground, the hair on her head was untangled, hung over her face, clung to everything and remained in tatters on the weeds. on poles and on plots.

Grandmother fell in the middle of the hut on the bare floor, spreading her arms, and so she slept, not undressed, in crocheted props, as if she were floating somewhere, not making a rustle or sound, and could not swim. In the house they spoke in whispers, walked on tiptoe, fearfully bent over their grandmother, thinking that she had died. But from the depths of the grandmother's insides, through clenched teeth, there was a continuous groan, as if something or someone had pressed down there, in the grandmother, and it was tormented by an unrelenting, burning pain.

Grandmother woke up immediately from sleep, looked around, as if after a faint, and began to pick up her hair, weave it into a braid, holding a rag for tying the braid in her teeth. Businesslike and simply didn’t say, but she exhaled from herself: “No, don’t call me Lidenka, don’t call me. The river does not give it away. It is close somewhere, very close, but does not give away and does not show ... "

And my mother was close. She was dragged under a floating boom opposite the hut of Vassa Vakhrameevna, she caught her scythe on the strap of the boom and dangled, dangled there until her hair was unfastened and the scythe was torn off. So they suffered: mother in the water, grandmother on the shore, they suffered terrible torment, it is not known whose grave sins ...

Grandmother found out and told me when I grew up that eight desperate Oatmeal women and one peasant in the stern - our Kolcha Jr. - were crowded into a small dugout boat. The women are all bargaining, mostly with berries - strawberries, and when the boat capsized, a bright red stripe rushed across the water, expanding, and the rafters from the boat, who were saving people, shouted: “Blood! Blood! Someone was smashed against the boom ... ”But strawberries floated along the river. Mom also had a strawberry flask, and it merged with a red stripe in a scarlet stream. Maybe my mother's blood from hitting her head on the boom was there, flowing and curling along with the strawberries in the water, but who knows who will distinguish red from red in panic, in fuss and screams?

I woke up from a ray of sunlight seeping through the cloudy pantry window and poking into my eyes. Dust flickered like midges in the beam. From somewhere it was caused by a loan, arable land. I looked around, and my heart jumped with joy: my grandfather's old sheepskin coat was thrown over me. Grandpa arrived at night. Beauty! In the kitchen, my grandmother told someone in detail:

- ... A cultured lady, in a hat. "I'll buy all these berries." Please, please. Berries, I say, the miserable orphan was picking ...

Then I fell through the ground together with my grandmother and could no longer and did not want to make out what she was saying next, because I covered myself with a sheepskin coat, huddled into it in order to die sooner. But it became hot, deaf, there was nothing to breathe, and I opened up.

He always sharpened his! roared the grandmother. - Now this! And he's cheating! What will come of it then? Zhigan will be! Eternal prisoner! I've got another Levontievsky, stain them, I'll take them into circulation! This is their diploma!

The grandfather got out into the yard, away from sin, baling something under a canopy. Grandmother can’t be alone for a long time, she needs to tell someone about the incident or smash the swindler to smithereens, therefore, me, and she quietly walked through the hallway, slightly opened the door to the pantry. I barely had time to tightly close my eyes.

Don't sleep, don't sleep! I see everything!

But I didn't give up. Aunt Avdotya ran into the house and asked how "teta" floated to the city. Grandmother said that she “swam, thank you, Lord, she sold the berries in a similar way,” and immediately began to narrate:

My something! Small something! What did you do! .. Listen, listen, girl!

This morning many people came to us, and my grandmother kept them all to tell: “And mine! Small something! And this did not in the least prevent her from doing household chores - she rushed back and forth, milked the cow, drove her to the shepherd, shook out the rugs, did various things of her own, and every time she ran past the pantry doors, she did not forget to remind:

Don't sleep, don't sleep! I see everything!

Grandfather turned into the pantry, pulled the leather reins from under me and winked:

“Nothing, they say, be patient and don’t be shy!”, and even stroked my head. I snorted and the tears that had been accumulating for so long like a berry, a large strawberry, staining it, poured out of my eyes, and there was no way for them to hold back.

Well, what are you, what are you? Grandfather reassured me, wiping the tears from my face with his big hand. - Why are you lying hungry? Ask for forgiveness ... Go, go, - grandfather gently pushed me in the back.

Holding my pants with one hand, pressing the other elbow to my eyes, I stepped into the hut and started:

I am more ... I am more ... I am more ... - and could not say anything further.

Okay, wash your face and sit down to crack! - still uncompromisingly, but already without a thunderstorm, without thunders, my grandmother cut me off. I obediently washed my face, ran a wet handkerchief over my face for a long time and remembered that lazy people, according to my grandmother, always wipe themselves damp because they get up late. I had to move to the table, sit down, look at people. Oh you Lord! Yes, so that I cheated at least once! Yes I…

Trembling at the sobs that still hadn't passed, I clung to the table. Grandfather fiddled around in the kitchen, winding around his hand an old, completely, I understood, unnecessary rope, getting something from the rack, took out an ax from under the chicken coop, tried the point with his finger. He seeks and finds a groundwork, so as not to leave the unfortunate grandson face to face with the "general" - so he calls his grandmother in his hearts or in derision. Feeling the invisible but reliable support of my grandfather, I took the kraukha from the table and began to eat it dry. Grandmother splashed milk in one fell swoop, put the bowl in front of me with a thump and put her hips on her hips:

The belly hurts, looks at the edge! Eh, what a humble one! Eh, how quiet! And he won't ask for milk!

Grandfather winked at me - be patient. Even without him I knew: God forbid now to argue with my grandmother, to do something that is not at her discretion. She must discharge and must express everything that has accumulated in her heart, she must take her soul away and calm her down. And my grandmother shamed me! And she denounced! Only now, having understood to the end into what a bottomless abyss roguery has plunged me and what “crooked path” it will take me yet, if I started to scrounge so early, if I reached out for robbery after dashing people, I already roared, not just repenting, but frightened that he was gone, that there was no forgiveness, no return ...

Even my grandfather could not stand my grandmother's speeches and my complete repentance. Gone. He left, disappeared, puffing on a cigarette, they say, I can’t help or control here, God help you, granddaughters ...

Grandmother was tired, exhausted, or maybe she sensed that she was too much to smash me.

It was quiet in the hut, but still hard. Not knowing what to do, how to continue to live, I smoothed out the patch on my pants, pulled the threads out of it. And when he raised his head, he saw in front of him ...

I closed my eyes and opened my eyes again. He closed his eyes again, opened them again. A white horse with a pink mane galloped along the scraped kitchen table, as if over a huge land, with arable land, meadows and roads, on pink hooves.

Take it, take it, what are you looking at? You look, but even when you miss your grandmother ...

How many years have passed since then! How many events have passed. My grandfather is no longer alive, my grandmother is not, and my life is waning, but I still can’t forget my grandmother’s gingerbread - that marvelous horse with a pink mane.