Life Behind the Iron Curtain: Perspectives of Soviet Metals
By KingCribbage
Stalinism viewed from a different perspective.
Category: Autobiographies/Memoirs
Genres: Philosophical, Political
Chapter 1
It began not so long ago, when my eyes had yet to open.
"Pa-pa," I said, "what manner of seagulls are they?" The world was far colder then.
"They are not seagulls, but sordid degenerates. Class-traitors, my child. Remember how Gregor and your mother used to gather the tinder in the winter time. Recall the gross, bloated and obstructive efforts of the seagulls. How they mocked our kin from beneath topped hats." And so father had spoken.
"Ilyev, why must you always be reading?" Father had distillery breath.
"But Pa-pa, I want to learn! I wish to better myself."
"Have no ideas above your station, my child. We are all in this together. With enough force we could stop the world from turning. Yes child, enjoy your naive appreciation of life's novelty. Soon you will grow old, like me. And so too will your distaste grow, your hatred of this banal existence that you once considered beautiful." And so Pa-pa wept.
And I continued to read.
Now it is winter time. The air is crisp, like fecund leaves.
Let me tell you something of myself, comrades. I am Ilyev Kaputskin, a humble worker.
In the evenings I will sit by the fire.
In the day, when the sun smiles, I am put to labour for the glory of the people.
At night, I tend to dream. In these visions, these gratifying moments, I will play the violin and waltz amidst Viennese women. It must be said that their hair-pieces are snow-topped, their bodices welcoming. It is so elegant to inhale stale air.
Together, we link hands beneath the chandeliers. Our mirth precedes their baptism of fire.
A coronation of candles.
I live with my father, Vladimir. He is old, but no burden to the state. Indeed, he works alongside me. Our steel is good and true. It oscillates above the furnace, with all of the industrious pride of a deferential worker.
Oh, how it invokes pride in me! And memories.
Blurred recollections of the tearful and joyous men of the Volga. Those cavernous chests that hauled the boats along the bank. Each man shifting his weight, as if to reach the Sun. To bask in its heat. And be subsumed in a burst of angelic birdsong.
"Come now, comrades! It is not yet time." And they would cease to rest.
It is night again. We drink from the trough, lie upon the straw. Here we rest quietly. There is but the clink of one another.
I had almost forgotten mother. Her skin was so white. It framed her countenance, that of an angel. She would pick cabbages with the other women, and they would be contented.
I do not know how long ago that was, exactly. At that time there was an elderly gentleman. He was called Gregor. He dressed so boldly, in velvet and leather. Gregor had a stomach, a tumorous protrusion. Within the week he would have gorged himself, consuming the better part of his income. Pigeons, mutton, bread and cheese. The most gross inventions of the culinary classes.
When mother died I left flowers by her grave. It was like leaving life, leaving mankind.
7 people call this work a favourite
Thank you.
In several years' time, I sit with my beloved child on my knee. The fire crackles, yet his voice is soft: "Father, tell me of the Soviet Union." My lips curl into a smile; he is ready. "Son, log on to enovella."
Thank you Paul. I was inspired by the greats.
Fecund leaves. How magnificently ridiculous. I would suggest a dictionary rather than a random word generator. Still, they say that if 1000 chimps were chained to 1000 typewriters eventually they would come up with the combined works of Shakespeare. ‘Keep trying’, bellowed the Organ Grinder. I suggest looking at Sholokhov instead for some superb depictions of Soviet life and dreams.
Oh dear. It is quite self-evident that this is a parody. Of Sholokhov, Chekhov etc. One that I wrote in 5 minutes. It is not to be taking seriously. Moreover, fecund: "–adjective 1. producing or capable of producing offspring, fruit, vegetation, etc., in abundance; prolific; fruitful: fecund parents; fecund farmland." Try imagining "fecund" leaves. If you are unable to do? You are rather less intelligent than we thought. It was clear that the language was meant to be allusive and metaphorical. Imbecile.
@theApe Mate, think literary license. Perfectly appropriate word to use in that context. Either you're a pedant or an idiot. Or both.
PS. "Oooh, look at me, I know who Sholokhov is!" Seriously? Name dropping someone that is really quite famous where it is clear that KingCribbage was satirising his work? Fucking pretentious retard, seriously.
MrFoucault = KingCribbage = Paul Alabaster
A coronation of candles was my favourite. It's got Paul Alabaster written all over it.
Haha, I'm not Paul Alabaster. Nor am I MrFoucault. I don't even like Foucault.
The air was crisp. Like a dorito. Flows a bit better i think you would agree. It also fits into your Soviet theme rather well, as they were produced in the furnaces of Magnitogorsk. The Cool Blue flavour was originally Cool Red, but the Yankees appropriated it. By suggesting Sholokov, I was helping the uninformed student of Russian literature to a more tasty snapshot of Soviet life...which this story lacks completely. My contact lenses were blurring while I read the title, so consequently I thought it was set in Sheffield.
I'd suggest either chipstick or pringle rather than Dorito. Provides a more brittle description for the air. Good point about deferential workers, they don't half oscillate.
Remember Comrades, when on a prospective date with a Soviet peasant ladies, a cabbage is far more economical and class conscious than flowers, plus it will content them. They might even put out for some potatoes with which to make vodka out of! When mother died I shat by her grave and cried.
Sholokov is overrated, to be honest.
I really liked this, would be great to read further, like entering another world.
Well love the story. Comments getting heated and wonder why ?
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BlankCanvas
Posted 13 months ago
not bad at all. you clearly have great writing skills and i very much enjoyed this so far. he language is intoxicating and your descriptions are very well worded. fantastic :)