Petre and Anna By M.M.Wake
Anna looked up from her mending to gaze for a few moments at her young husband scribbling at the table that had been set by the window to make the most of the diminishing evening light.
His brow creased as he poured over the words flowing slowly from his nib, black birds leaning against a white sky, straining for flight.
Occasionally he glanced from the paper onto the outside world, the bitter reality of the stark winter night crashing against the glass. The moon heavy and waxing stared back. All was quiet bar the scratch scratch of pen against paper, stopping and starting as each sentence was deliberated over, deleted, changed.
She loved him very much.
All through the long winter Petre had been working through the evening, long into the night. His young wife had watched, waiting for him to return to her, busying herself with sewing, cutting him slices of bread and cheese, keeping the small fire burning.
Often she had fallen asleep in her chair against the fire, waking to find Petre still writing many hours later.
With a loud sigh, Petre put down his pen, rubbed his tired eyes and began stretching and yawning. He stood, releasing his young body from the posture of several hours hunched writing and rolled his tired shoulders backwards and forwards before walking over to the meagre fire to warm his cold hands.
Anna put down her sewing and glanced up expectantly at her husband, her eyes widening, lips poised in anticipation
'It is finished', announced Petre without emotion, all energy spent and contained within the pages of the manuscript now piled upon the table.
Tears sprang to Anna's eyes as she leapt to her feet, scattering the garment she had been mending on to the stone floor. She ran to her husband and embraced him repeating his name over and over again, as if it had been forgotten.
Petre kiseed her forehead gently and stroked her hair.
The novel was finally finished. It had been over a year since he started it. Petre and Anna had only been married 6 months when he had begun. Poor Anna. The passion that he had shown his young bride had been consumed by his writing, leaving none for her. Yet she had been patient, she had waited, and he had returned to her.
Petres face was tired. He needed to sleep. Releasing his wife with a smile he walked over to the bed in the corner of the room and upon laying down fell immediately into a deep sleep.
Anna arranged the coverlet about his shoulders to keep him warm. Petre was so handsome. She had loved him from the first. His face was thinner, the cheeks hollow, he had been working too hard -the book had possessed him completely. At first she had been jealous as if a mistress had taken him away, but she had gradually accepted. They had talked very little in the last 6 months, sharing only common pleasantries, their small meals and sleep.
But now it was over and Petre, her Petre would return.
Walking over to the table Anna picked up one of the sheets. It was the title page. Anna read the words - 'Escape' a novel by Petre Andovochek, running her fingers lightly over the name.
She knew little of writing, had never read a book in her life, not even her husbands work, but she was proud, so very proud. Her husband was a genius, of this she was sure. He might not be good at farming or clever with his hands, like some of the other men in the surrounding villages, but Petre would go far. Far away from here, from this poverty, and she his wife would be by his side.
She placed the sheet carefully back on the table, and so as not to disturb her husband, sat back in her chair and by the glow of the last embers of the fire, fell asleep.
The next morning Anna was awoken by the bustling of her husband around the small room. He had made a fire and was busy sorting through items in a large holdall.
Anna rose silently and tiptoed behind him, grabbing him around the waist and kissing his hair.
Smiling good humouredly Petre turned around and kissed his wife on the forehead, before releasing her arms. His face was bright and open, no hint of the tiredness of the previous evening.
'Anna, Anna, I must go to Moscow today to see Ivan Popov about my book, I must hurry the train leaves in an hour', and with that he turned his back and began to pack his belongings into the large bag.
Anna's shoulders sank and she stepped back towards the fire.
'Must you go today Petre'? her voice sounded almost defeated.
'Of course my love, I need to sell my work, Ivan Popov has promised a handsome sum based on the first three chapters I sent to him'.
'But it is snowing my love'?
Petre glanced out into the morning, the sky a yellowing grey, snow falling thick and heavy.
'Ah, this is nothing, we have had worse weather than this', he laughed, but seeing his wife's sad face, he put down the clothing in his hands and went to the fire to embrace her.
'Anna, I must do this, I have worked over a year for this, for us'.
'How long will you be away'?
Petre looked down at his boots, the world was opening up to him, he was going to Moscow.
'I don't know, but it won't be long, a couple of weeks at the most'.
Anna's eyes filled and she blinked quickly to steady the tears.
'You have enough money for food'?
'Yes Petre'.
'And you can call on Katria Novikov if you need anything’?
'Yes Petre'.
'Well, then, everything will be well and I will come home a rich man'.
Petre embraced his wife quickly before moving back to the table.
'I must set off soon'.
Anna watched as Petre put on his scarf, his long coat and gloves. Her heart felt wretched, yet she smiled and wished him well. Shouldering his bag Petre took her hand and kissed her gently.
'’Two weeks my love, the time will pass quickly'.
With that he opened the large wooden door, stepped down the little path and out into the cold light.
Anna stood at the window and watched the dark figure crawl away over the white landscape, the thick flakes falling slowly, obscuring the tiny window pane until all she could see was snow.
Copyright M.M.Wake 2012
http://www.feedbooks.com/userbook/24944/petre-and-anna to download
His brow creased as he poured over the words flowing slowly from his nib, black birds leaning against a white sky, straining for flight.
Occasionally he glanced from the paper onto the outside world, the bitter reality of the stark winter night crashing against the glass. The moon heavy and waxing stared back. All was quiet bar the scratch scratch of pen against paper, stopping and starting as each sentence was deliberated over, deleted, changed.
She loved him very much.
All through the long winter Petre had been working through the evening, long into the night. His young wife had watched, waiting for him to return to her, busying herself with sewing, cutting him slices of bread and cheese, keeping the small fire burning.
Often she had fallen asleep in her chair against the fire, waking to find Petre still writing many hours later.
With a loud sigh, Petre put down his pen, rubbed his tired eyes and began stretching and yawning. He stood, releasing his young body from the posture of several hours hunched writing and rolled his tired shoulders backwards and forwards before walking over to the meagre fire to warm his cold hands.
Anna put down her sewing and glanced up expectantly at her husband, her eyes widening, lips poised in anticipation
'It is finished', announced Petre without emotion, all energy spent and contained within the pages of the manuscript now piled upon the table.
Tears sprang to Anna's eyes as she leapt to her feet, scattering the garment she had been mending on to the stone floor. She ran to her husband and embraced him repeating his name over and over again, as if it had been forgotten.
Petre kiseed her forehead gently and stroked her hair.
The novel was finally finished. It had been over a year since he started it. Petre and Anna had only been married 6 months when he had begun. Poor Anna. The passion that he had shown his young bride had been consumed by his writing, leaving none for her. Yet she had been patient, she had waited, and he had returned to her.
Petres face was tired. He needed to sleep. Releasing his wife with a smile he walked over to the bed in the corner of the room and upon laying down fell immediately into a deep sleep.
Anna arranged the coverlet about his shoulders to keep him warm. Petre was so handsome. She had loved him from the first. His face was thinner, the cheeks hollow, he had been working too hard -the book had possessed him completely. At first she had been jealous as if a mistress had taken him away, but she had gradually accepted. They had talked very little in the last 6 months, sharing only common pleasantries, their small meals and sleep.
But now it was over and Petre, her Petre would return.
Walking over to the table Anna picked up one of the sheets. It was the title page. Anna read the words - 'Escape' a novel by Petre Andovochek, running her fingers lightly over the name.
She knew little of writing, had never read a book in her life, not even her husbands work, but she was proud, so very proud. Her husband was a genius, of this she was sure. He might not be good at farming or clever with his hands, like some of the other men in the surrounding villages, but Petre would go far. Far away from here, from this poverty, and she his wife would be by his side.
She placed the sheet carefully back on the table, and so as not to disturb her husband, sat back in her chair and by the glow of the last embers of the fire, fell asleep.
The next morning Anna was awoken by the bustling of her husband around the small room. He had made a fire and was busy sorting through items in a large holdall.
Anna rose silently and tiptoed behind him, grabbing him around the waist and kissing his hair.
Smiling good humouredly Petre turned around and kissed his wife on the forehead, before releasing her arms. His face was bright and open, no hint of the tiredness of the previous evening.
'Anna, Anna, I must go to Moscow today to see Ivan Popov about my book, I must hurry the train leaves in an hour', and with that he turned his back and began to pack his belongings into the large bag.
Anna's shoulders sank and she stepped back towards the fire.
'Must you go today Petre'? her voice sounded almost defeated.
'Of course my love, I need to sell my work, Ivan Popov has promised a handsome sum based on the first three chapters I sent to him'.
'But it is snowing my love'?
Petre glanced out into the morning, the sky a yellowing grey, snow falling thick and heavy.
'Ah, this is nothing, we have had worse weather than this', he laughed, but seeing his wife's sad face, he put down the clothing in his hands and went to the fire to embrace her.
'Anna, I must do this, I have worked over a year for this, for us'.
'How long will you be away'?
Petre looked down at his boots, the world was opening up to him, he was going to Moscow.
'I don't know, but it won't be long, a couple of weeks at the most'.
Anna's eyes filled and she blinked quickly to steady the tears.
'You have enough money for food'?
'Yes Petre'.
'And you can call on Katria Novikov if you need anything’?
'Yes Petre'.
'Well, then, everything will be well and I will come home a rich man'.
Petre embraced his wife quickly before moving back to the table.
'I must set off soon'.
Anna watched as Petre put on his scarf, his long coat and gloves. Her heart felt wretched, yet she smiled and wished him well. Shouldering his bag Petre took her hand and kissed her gently.
'’Two weeks my love, the time will pass quickly'.
With that he opened the large wooden door, stepped down the little path and out into the cold light.
Anna stood at the window and watched the dark figure crawl away over the white landscape, the thick flakes falling slowly, obscuring the tiny window pane until all she could see was snow.
Copyright M.M.Wake 2012
http://www.feedbooks.com/userbook/24944/petre-and-anna to download
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