The Big Water

One spring, the death of the bell ringer

The bell ringer was the only person who happened to be in the Home from the old residents of the asylum. Early on, it was discovered our “Shining Light” had been “Villa Peace”, dedicated to the mentally ill. One of them was the bell ringer, comrade Aneski. But it couldn’t be said he was totally mad. Even less should he be blamed for not knowing his job. It was his old trade, I swear. God, the real wonder was how could he stand it. To be honest comrade Aneski was so cunning and devious, he was such a real spindle that we should tip our hats to him. Obviously the cunning fellow’s lunatic actions appealed to the dear Headmaster, so he pushed it to the limit. Our bell ringer knew very well how to maintain his character appraisal.

Once, he couldn’t get to sleep the whole night. His left molar hurt, and he could not find peace at all. What didn’t he drink; he even put on the root of a nettle, even a little brandy was found from somewhere, but the pains just wouldn’t stop. All night he moaned “Oof!” out loud, curse me, he moved from dormitory to dormitory, moaning as loud as he could, just so that we couldn’t sleep either. And when one of the children, joking, moaned “oof” mimicking him, he went completely mad. Even though it was night, not a good time at all, midnight, he ordered us to line up in the yard. That was a Winter December night. It was a dry cold Winter, cold enough to crack rock. Everywhere around it was deaf, just the stinging wind, blowing harshly, like a sickle, passed above the ground. The fine snow like hawthorns was hitting us in the face, every object was shrieking, the ground was screeching. It was, certainly, the most desolate night in the world, the ice nailed us to the ground, I swear, the pains left the bell ringer; his pain was over, he was cured. Impossible, you say, but he cured himself. Curse me, if that day did not end in that surprising way, maybe today he would have gone much further. What did it matter he was mad? Even better. He did every task without a word. No, I swear, I’m not joking, he would have become a man, a pioneering builder of the new society and so on, if only he hadn’t got clever that day.

His obedience, his humiliation, his self-sacrifice and discipline quickly brought him out. Exactly like that, they brought him out. If he tried hard, he could even have put together an excellent biography. Once it was communicated that he, namely comrade Aneski, was the organiser of some revolt in the hospital and something similar; a matter which shouldn’t be undervalued. Meanwhile, as to the truth, he was a more modest man, but above all, he just loved his call and his little bell to death. Curse me, the little bell. For example, he could not be separated from the bell he woke us with, not even once. There wasn’t anything the children did not try to get him to stop with those absurdities but he doggedly continued on. There’s no question about it, he had something constant in his character. He kept the little bell and the pickaxe by his bed like marital props. No, comrade Aneski wasn’t that mad, he knew the soul of our dear Headmaster Ariton Jakovleski perfectly well, it’s understood, as well as the assembly line itself. There you are, he knew the administration waged war daily with the son of Kejtin and there wasn’t a morning he didn’t, like a madman, at first light, appear at the foot of the bed of the son of Kejtin. Oh God, he was unhappy and he suffered so much he couldn’t once, at least once, find him asleep. Curse me, he brought his own death on his head himself.

Waking had two parts: the first part was the normal part, when the bell ringer’s behaviour was peaceful. Curse me, someone had thought up normal behaviour for the wake up. In that event, the bell ringer, at the allocated time, would get up on the little stage that was placed in the middle of the yard and from that spot he started his bell ringing. I think there was not a living soul who couldn’t hear him. Certainly the whole neighbouring area around the home was woken by the ringing from the Home; the whole area was dragged away from its dreams. The second part of waking was linked to the alert character of the bell ringer. Like every subjugated and enslaved man, he was scared to death for his poor future. Every late arrival to the assembly line meant something very bad to him. He thought it was levelled directly against him so we would ruin his character appraisal with the dear Headmaster. Simply put, people like him are full of fear, they exert themselves beyond their own capabilities, they are always on the alert, from day to day they become more and more soulless, more blind. That’s why the bell ringer, and over and beyond the assembly line and everything, thought up a first and second part of waking. Maybe he hadn’t slept through the night until he came up with it, until he thought of such a thing. Isn’t that the most ferocious, the scariest suicide, oh if only his murky head had for a moment became a little clearer. Curse me, what a terrible blindness, what an inconceivable punishment.

When the bell ringer would appear in the dormitories you would think the plague had descended. He was so harsh and at the same time cunning that he didn’t permit even the slightest contention. Think of a man without dreams and think how much he would respect the dreams of others. But our children’s hearts from all four sides were full of dreams, they gushed. Can you think what your dreams would be like if such a man were the keeper? He wouldn’t fail to look for us even under our beds, everywhere he, in his sick head, thought to look. Every place where a dream could be, he hunted it. He hunted it as though it was his greatest enemy. And it was like that, he was afraid of dreams. Curse me, he was afraid. It was obvious he had never had a peaceful dream, when he woke up, he looked tortured and deeply unhappy, beaten black and blue. He left an impression of a man who was returning from long conscript labour. Naturally every action of his went in extreme, it even seemed entertaining in the beginning. Sometimes he himself did not believe his own eyes, he supposed even they would deceive him. (Poor thing, he was suspicious of everything, of himself, of others, of the day, of the night, even of the earth he trod beneath his feet.) He would go into the toilets, he would open the wardrobes, he would peer under the beds, everywhere, everywhere. The buffoon did that in a very facetious way, but not without motive. Quickly after that we worked out we were not allowed to joke about anything with the bell ringer. Because, it will happen perhaps, in any case, that someone is caught somewhere he does not belong, then woe is he. Even with a medical certificate it was risky to stay in bed. It’s not as if the madman would even ask you — he pulled the steel and — whatever fate God had in store for you. Curse me, whatever God had in store for you. Anyway, it was scariest when he started to foam, when, without any reason he would go wild and would grab some boy and start to choke him.

“You, beast, in the cellar,” he would rave, “in the cellar, you thief!”

And if you dare to ask him what you’ve stolen, then he would, without a word, look at you with such a scary, terrifying look, a look which was heavier than every punishment. Without a word he would grab you by the neck and he would drag you toward the cellar.

In the Home there were many unpleasant places, the sort of places which, if you can, it would be better to avoid. But the cellar was something else, no-one knew what the cellar was, no-one knew what was hidden in the cellar. No-one had until then looked in that part of the Home, the bell ringer alone was the only master in the cellar. The key hung around his neck like a cross. And that was enough to make you sense the fear in all your being. Comrade Aneski was born to that, he was a workshop of fear. Curse me, that’s what Kejtin called him, workshop of fear. Maybe that is why the dear Headmaster and not just him, but all of the administration, relied so much on the bell ringer for reinstatement of the assembly line. In that regard, the bell ringer was God. I swear, God. Lunatics. Cursed lunatics, with a wall before their eyes. Blind.

One day, though, that idiot was good. He recovered his sight. Curse me, recovered his sight. He was as good as a lamb. That was his day. He was celebrating, he went wild with happiness. He had a reason, a real reason to be happy. What he managed to achieve with the assembly line was at such a level that it stirred up collective elation. Things that had for centuries tormented intelligent, deep people, things like the self-awareness, humanity, or some such discipline, our bell ringer managed to attain in the course of a year. Curse me, they were blind.

The day was very stormy. All night a strong, rainy wind blew. From the water bank came horrible, morbid cries of birds. The restless, frightening voices woke us. No-one slept. It was thought the storm had come into the Home. Kejtin, who most certainly heard the storm before anyone else, with the first sound, was already out of the dormitory. His little bed was empty.

“Where is Kejtin?” asked one of the boys. “Kejtin is missing!”

At that moment, Kejtin came in drenched like a mouse. It was obvious he was happy, his face was shining. The children jumped out of their beds at once. They knew Kejtin had seen something. He was smiling, angelic, unusually, quietly, happily.

“Tell me, what was there?” they asked him. “Where does this wind come from?”

But his happiness quickly paled. With his thin transparent hands, once, twice he wiped his wet face and, it seemed, in that way he took away all the beauty he had brought in from outside, once again his face became ugly, unattractive. Alien. Curse me, alien. The residents of the Home began to push around the tall, unattractive boy. Metodija Grishkoski, a young man from the administration, spurred on by some of his friends, dared to shove him from behind, he was after a fight.

“Wise one, invisible strength, what did you see, tell us? Did you see your devil, did you see the water’s spirit, what was it like, strong one? Did he look like you, eh?” He threw heavy insults into his face and emboldened by Kejtin’s silence, he started to rip into him even more.

“Leave him, you crawler!” I called. Other children called the same thing. The dormitory was like a lunatic asylum.

Unusually, this time Kejtin remained completely quiet, as though he wasn’t at all interested what was around him. He looked like a person, a traveller who just passed by, by chance, briefly, a person who was in a rush, who was hurrying on his trip. The same moment like a shadow he flew through the dormitory, he left. Then, like stupid sheep, the children rushed after him... He’d climbed onto the stage in the yard, he was hunting the rain. Curse me, he was hunting the rain. That was beautiful, magnificent Spring rain. Shining rain.

And in the dawn. Day. Between two big, burst clouds, a small, thin, weak ray shone with a new, beautiful light. Not a single child wanted to return to the stinking, poisonous beds. I swear it happened simply, just like that.

This morning there was no need for the bell, every last child was in the yard. The bell ringer rolled his eyes, they were going to pop out of his head like loose buttons, he rubbed his forehead, surely his whole body was in flames, dear mother of mine, he didn’t believe it. He began to run from one grade to another, to sniff like a hound, curse me, like a hound, to stare into every face with an expression which seemed to ask “You, beast, are you here in the line? Where are you?!” and at the end when he was completely sure, he went wild with happiness. Curse me, he threw the little bell from his hands and over his head he ran to the administration to announce the happy news. You can just imagine how the news spread out in the administration. The dear Headmaster didn’t even manage to do up his trousers, he was holding them up in his hands and like that he went from one grade to another, with that same joyful expression which was on the bell ringer’s face just a short time ago. The dear Headmaster’s moustache shone, it turned to gold. It meant in the end we succeeded, that’s what it meant, at the end of all ends, he winked at the sleepy instructors. They looked like they were not at all happy, obviously they were still in their dreams, they were sleepy. They were a little bit put out they had been woken early, I swear, if a person were to leave them like that, on their feet, they would’ve slept a number of centuries. Then and later, only comrade Srezoska was fully awake as she was for the whole of her life and, it’s understood, like always, buttoned up, top to bottom, our Assistant-Headmaster. Obviously she wasn’t overjoyed, it was as though some worm was eating at her.

Anyway, it was impossible for a person to stay calm looking at the bell ringer. Poor man. The incident totally melted him down, it hit him in the heart. His eyes shone, curse me, there was a warm tear even in this being. A person wouldn’t ever believe there was room in his heart for wind and for other such follies. I now believe, curse me, in every human heart there has to be one or two warm Spring rain drops regardless of how hard it is, covered in ice. I saw that with my own eyes and I believe it as I believe in a clear day, I swear.

That morning the sun rose too. Maybe the sun knew about our special holiday, the District Manager was already familiar with it, wanted an essay to be used so we could benefit from the experience. The dear Headmaster at last did up the buttons on his trousers (he turned a little to the side and did up the buttons). Immediately we put up the flags, we put the stage in order, we did it in a minute. A flower was even found from somewhere, the comrades came, the official for sport and culture, comrade Dervutovski, the official for general things, comrade Veceski, comrade Elimoski, comrade Lazhoski, we held a meeting in honour of comrade Aneski, our bell ringer. Curse me, a meeting. Dear mother of mine, he was sensible for an hour, he awoke. We all saw, his eyes became different, he looked at us very kindly, dearly, gently. Curse me, he abandoned the madness and he looked at us with bright, human eyes. The stone in his chest thawed, it melted like a drop of Spring dew touched by the strong ray, a warm, little flame like a golden spider was crawling over his tortured and unhappy face. I swear, for the whole time he wasn’t listening to the speech, the applause and all the other ridiculous things which can blind a person. With thirsty eyes he looked only at us, at each child. The poor man, you could hardly recognise the bell ringer — tyrant, impossible, I swear, in that moment, each child’s heart was with him, was begging for his poor life. He saw it and couldn’t contain himself. He didn’t have any strength left in him any more, the unhappy creature.

“He’s dying,” said the son of Kejtin to me, “he is perishing like a wild dog.”

“Quiet,” I begged him. “He is alone. He is with us, friend.”

“O the poor little man flew higher than he thought,” said Kejtin with a bitter smile. “There you are, now he is plummeting into a dark abyss from which he will never leave.”

The bell ringer eventually went completely mad that day. Incurable. For days he could neither eat nor sleep. He went from child to child, and all of a sudden he would look at you with that stiffened, white look. After that, he’d be possessed again and he would start to escape, to hide, to cry, to bawl, he soiled himself and banged his head against the wall. So he would not be so troubled, we tied him up with a rope and we left him tied up like that, so he could die more peacefully. We saw how he was dying. Curse me, it seems you cannot die so quickly and on a whim.

He died on an ordinary day. Early in the morning, before the flies attacked him. I swear, he beat the flies.

After the death of the bell ringer, the Home sunk into that familiar deaf silence again. Fear settled into every small nook. A new fear. No one mentioned the Senterlev Mountain any more. It was as though snow had fallen on it, as though the sun had died. In those unhappy days, even the voice of the Big Water was lost, all was gone. Pleasant dreams disappeared to somewhere they could not return from. Everything smelled of death; we thought an evil spirit lived in the Home. Most of the children, especially those who knew something of the frightening spirit, were horribly afraid. They woke in the deafest night from their dreams and, as though someone were giving chase, they ran, they hid through the Home. They were looking for a way, a path by which they could be freed from that cursed place, to escape the cold shadow of the wall. No, there was no such place. On all four sides we complied with regulations, securely built in. If they finally managed to understand that, if they managed to free themselves from the nightmare, everything would end happily. After that, wide awake, as if ground down, they would get back into their beds, but healthy and happy, whole. But if the dream held onto them a little longer, then they were prepared for the most mindless acts. In such a moment, little Klimoski, a little boy as quiet as a beetle, so quiet the children even called him Klimoski the Beetle, went so wild he managed to jump right to the top of the wall. He held on with the palms of his hands, held onto the glass pieces on the wall and stayed like that as though in a trap. In the morning we found him rolling around, bloodied and insane, captured.

We saw we faced a long and hard road before we reached the Senterlev Mountain. Curse me, a whole century, a whole life time. Curse me, a life time.