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Three Stars. FAIRY TALES FOR CHILDREN AND YOUTH
FAIRY TALES FOR CHILDREN AND YOUTH
Elena Speranskaya
© Elena Speranskaya, 2019
ISBN 978-5-4496-1496-4
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Three Stars
My story begins with the birth as for all people who are more or less versed in the laws of nature. Falling leaves were in full swing, causing positive emotions among passers-by. Wonderful days of the height of autumn were coming to an end, but there was no doubt that winter would overshadow the withering nature with its lace blizzard and bitter frost with extraordinary beauty and force.
Fortunately, the maternity hospital was located not in another city, but in the very center of one of the oldest cities on the Volga river with a rich past, a large number of merchant houses, squares, parks and cultural monuments. But for the child such a disproportion in the development of his external data and antiquity did not matter. The baby did not harbor hatred or resentment towards his already mature parents, but enjoyed the fact that he was born in the family of the great racer and hero of the battle of Khalkhin Gol – Sergey and two “naive” adults who already have a first-grader son.
These husbands and wife agreed that if a boy is born, they will give him up for education in an orphanage, and if a girl is born, into a decent family, meaning that they are loved, so that in the future she can return to her father’s house and become a support for her old and retired parents. They have long been looking for a female donor, to whom a tenth pregnancy would be a burden, in order to equip their family nest with the least cost. The husband and wife swore real relatives that they would raise a girl in the best Russian traditions, since this served as a weighty argument in choosing a home from where she was born. The mother-woman stayed in the hospital, and her husband, a race car driver, could not take care of the baby, because he constantly trained and participated in international competitions, defending the honor of the country, so he would look for an intelligent couple who would care about the unborn child.
Trustees did not appear immediately. At first they lost some of their money while traveling around Europe and the world, and then in one of the restaurants in Stockholm met an elderly pregnant woman with a rather attractive husband-racer, who repented in conversation that he was very busy at work.
“Can you imagine how much work you need to get drunk,” he said, imitating the famous artist Filippov.
“No, we don’t imagine,” said an intelligent, middle-aged man, moving a plate of potatoes sprinkled with dill and tasting food with dignity to himself.
“And we represent,” their partners said in opposition, feeling their destiny in the world of grief and violence.
“We already have a son,” a senior-looking woman suddenly emerged with a Siberian behavior and an experienced soldier. “We have a little son. He is now in the kindergarten, but when we return, we will take him for good.”
“Dear compatriots,” Sergey immediately turned to her bluntly, “could you shelter a small miracle. My wife and I want to find her guardians.”
“We agree,” an intelligent man of about forty-five, the husband of a female soldier in a uniform tunic, supported the conversation. “Let’s celebrate this event with a glass of champagne.”