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William Calhoun and the Black Feather. Book I
Book I
Aik Iskandaryan
Illustrator Karina Alexandrovna Bezlepkina
Translator Irina Anatolievna Stoliarova
© Aik Iskandaryan, 2018
© Karina Alexandrovna Bezlepkina, illustrations, 2018
© Irina Anatolievna Stoliarova, translation, 2018
ISBN 978-5-4493-4108-2 (т. 1)
ISBN 978-5-4493-4109-9
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
William Calhoun and
the Black Feather
Chapter one
William named after two Williams
Number 7 in the Green Wiz Street belonged to an old woman, Mrs. Oliver, who was much over seventy. With each day, moving around was becoming more difficult for her, not mentioning walking near the house. She lived together with a boy called William Calhoun. Exactly seven years ago, as she was strolling around her house in the evening, about to head home to get ready for bed, Mrs. Oliver noticed a small bundle in the middle of the road opposite her house. The bundle looked like a piece of crumpled fabric thrown out of the passing car. However, since cars on the roads around here were rare, this find was quite a surprise. It was very quiet. Thinking that one of the locals must have thrown out some old clothes, Mrs. Oliver turned around and started walking towards her house. But she stopped when someone started crying. It was a baby cry, no doubts. She looked around and saw no one, but in a few seconds, she realized where the crying was coming from. Her walk somewhat unsure, she headed to the road and, as she came closer, took a good look at the bundle. It turned out to be a baby, wrapped in rags.
Mrs. Oliver picked the baby up. Sensing her care, he fell quiet. His big blue eyes stared at Mrs. Oliver and then the baby’s tiny mouth opened in a smile.
«Stop it,» Mrs. Oliver grumbled. «I’m not that old for you, young man, to make fun of my looks!»
No more doubts left, she took the baby home and brought him up as her own.
A teacher of literature in the past, Mrs. Oliver had retired long ago and now lived alone. Her husband passed away a year ago and they didn’t have children of their own. After that, the lonely widow lived waiting for the hour she would follow her husband. But she was destined to keep living for seven more years, which she had fully devoted to young William.
She came up with the name for the boy right away. She called the baby boy after two worthiest people, in her opinion, – William Shakespeare and William Blake. Besides that, there was a small white feather sticking out of the rags the boy was wrapped in. Pale yellow word was visible on the feather «Calhoun’. So Mrs. Oliver didn’t think on the last name much either.
«Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night…» she quoted as she took the dirty rags off the boy. «What are you born to, mister?!»
From the very first day, she grew quite fond of the boy.
«You are likely destined to a very rare fate and a long life if you’ve ALREADY survived,» she told him each time.
It was probably a teacher habit to call her students «mister’ and «miss’ or, perhaps, she really thought the child to be special, but she always addressed the boy politely «mister Calhoun’!