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    R. Eric
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 22. Chapter 22

Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. I miss you. I love you.

There was a struggle to find places for all the citizens at the palace. It was a potentially stressful, yet happy problem! Peter and I went back to our rooms to put on the traditional clothing for this season. The favored color was red. The pants were loose and baggy, called sharovay and were bright red. There was the shirt, a blouse really called vyshyvanka was white but embroidered with festive red and green. Don’t forget the bright red sash tied around the waist. It was a traditional folk dress for this part of the world.

We came down the stairs to the crowded gathering area and met Mom who, still looking very much like a Queen, but dressed in the color red as was the color prominently worn and the white blouse and it was a dress that was…almost folk dress, but longer and I’m sure it was made for her specifically. I don’t think she could be ugly if she tried!

Olek came up behind us, dressed similarly as we were. “Well, here we go!” He clapped his hands together rubbing them to get ready, but tone and face said he wasn’t too enthusiastic about it. It was like he was about to walk into a bees’ nest.

Mom looked at Olek. “They’re just children, Olek.” She shook her head. “You need to be out there.” She smiled. “One day, one or two will be yours’ and Helga’s.”

Olek looked up a little better, but he was still a little wary. “I guess.”

Peter elbowed his brother in the gut lightly. “We’ve been trying for over year and nothing.”

“Yes, well, Helga’s having issues with being an engineer and Queen. Being a pregnant engineer and Queen…?” Olek muttered with a slight grudging shrug.

“Olek.” Queen Alla frowning. “She will be your wife and she will be Queen. I had it easier as my only job was being Queen.” She looked at Peter. “When I was pregnant with you, it was more difficult, but I did it. Helga is a structural engineer! Should she give that up?” She asked Olek.

“No!” Olek said quickly and then had a sheepish look. “But…”

“She was a structural engineer when you met.” Queen Alla said. “It was Helga you first liked and then fell in love with. She will always be that.”

Peter held his hand up. “Which these two will work out.” He said to Mom. “Helga’s not here to add her voice to this…let’s just get this party started.”

 

“Presenting His Royal Majesty, King Olek Ivanov of Makarovia.” The man at the bottom of the stairs said loud to everyone there. “Her Royal Majesty, Queen Alla Ivanov of Makarovia, His Royal Highness, Prince Petro Ivanov of Makarovia and His Lordship Eric Richards, Earl of Styria…soon to become his Royal Highness, Prince Eric Ivanov of Makarovia.” He waved to us as we got toward the bottom of the stairs and everyone there in the gathering area turned and bowed. Adult and children alike bowed.

Olek grinned at the many little faces and the parents of these precious faces. “This is an important day! The beginning of our observance of the traditions for this time of year. This is indeed will be a magical night. The celebration of Svyaty Mykolay is always looked forward to. I trust all of you will got that special something under your pillows this morning.”

“Yes!” Many small voices answered him.

“All of you are living in a momentous time in Makarovia.” Olek smiled at them all. “We are entering a new world and you will be a major part of that new place for Makarovia in the world.”

Queen Alla came up beside Olek. “We are here to celebrate Svyaty Mykolay.” She said loudly. “And you all know the St. Nicholas Song.”

“Yes!” They answered together again.

Queen Alla began in a sweet voice, led them in song. “Children who, who love Dear St. Nicholas,” she was joined by everyone including Olek, Peter and me, “children who, who obey St, Nicholas, they’re the ones who won’t be missed and their wishes will be blessed by St, Nicholas!”

At the end of the short song, they were all applauding.

“Now, for some great food, fellowship and good wishes,” Olek said to the crowd. “I can’t believe how many got here!”

There was a general laugh from many there.

“That was easy!” A dark headed boy about six said to Olek. “We walked here through the tunnel!” He said simply.

Olek chuckled. “I know you did! Let’s all go to the ballroom, it has been set up to give us a fine meal and a good time! In many other parts of the world, this day is a solemn day, but we don’t see it that way. The letters you have written will be gathered and I will make sure they are given.”

I leaned into Peter and whispered. “It’s a religious holiday here, isn’t it?”

“Well…yes, but it’s more joyful here,” Peter said simply. “There are a lot of traditions from the Ukraine, but not alike.”

“So, Svyaty Mykolay…St. Nicholas and Ded Moroz?”

Peter chuckled. “Well, the Soviets didn’t want Svyaty Mykolay, but approved Ded Moroz, Father Frost which brings gifts on January 1St or January 7th.”

I waved at the children. “So, they get two Christmases!?”

He nodded with a chuckle. “Of course.”

I shook my head. “Lucky little scamps,” I muttered. “I only got one.”

“Today is a little smaller with the gift giving. Usually a book or something today, maybe a little toy…”

“And don’t forget the mykolaychyky!” I said happily. “I love those cookies filled with raspberry or cherry filling!” I then turned Peter around. “I didn’t get them this year!” I objected.

Peter gave me a grin. “Maybe you weren’t good enough.”

I narrowed an eye. “Yea? Well…where was yours!?”

He shrugged. “I know I wasn’t good enough. I’ve been bad.”

I looked at him. “Why do I sense this has taken on a whole new meaning?”

Peter chuckled again pulling me in for a kiss. “Because it did.”

“You’ve never been bad, Peter.”

“Neither are you,” Peter said running his finger on my jaw.

 

Going down the ballroom, it had been completely transformed. Beliefs in the religious part of St. Nicholas were here, as there were the many images of St. Nicholas, but there were trees decorated with all of the colored glass ornaments, tinsel, and lights. Garland was strewn along the walls with the ribbons. There was a large church. It was like a gingerbread house, but much bigger decorated with icing, other sweets and had the bells and the figures of the saints, with St. Nicholas in front. Round tables were set up with festive red cloths with the hurricane glass enclosed fat green candles surrounded by the green holly garland. There were the many “oohhs” and “aahhs” from both the young and their parents. It was going to be a magical night.

It didn’t take long before the noise level went up again as happy little voices were excited pointing things out to their parents and hurrying from one display to another to take it all in.

What I also noticed, there were a few couples…men who were clearly married (they were too close to be just pals and holding hands in some cases) with children. Some women, too, but, again I’m sorry the men outnumbered the women. For five male couples, there was one female couple. No, a man that had children with a woman could have entered a relationship with a man if the marriage ended or even a death occurs.

“These male couples with children…” I said to Peter. “The few female couples have children.”

Peter looked in the direction I was looking. He laughed a little and nodded. “Remember, I told you that there are times when we have people die during the harsh winters? There are also accidents and even sickness.”

I nodded. “Sure, that makes sense.”

“We don’t have an orphanage,” Peter explained and hurried on sounding a little defensive. “We do, but the kids don’t stay there long. There are plenty of couples willing to take the children in because who died were friends or something.”

“That’s great, Peter,” I said to assure him. “Of course, you check the adopting parents out, right?”

Peter looked at me closer. “Really?” He waved at the people. “I know almost everyone here!” He waved at two men with a little boy about eight and a sister about five. “I played hockey with them the other day.” He waved at the others. ‘There are some I don’t know that well, but their neighbors do.” He led me to the table where we were to sit. “Are there mistakes? Sure, but it’s a small country. One of the other things about us…we watch out for each other.” He was a little too defensive and was not telling me something.

His tone was…embarrassed, too. I touched his arm. “Hey, I get it.” I smiled as we sat down. “It’s a tough life here, but getting better. This are very good people here and close. I understand that. With the increase in population, it will be trickier.” I pulled his face toward me. “Is there something I should know?”

He pointed to a couple of children with a sigh. “Those two were found in the house where their parents…died weeks before we got to them. Nearly starved and sick when we got there.”

“A fire?”

He looked away. “No.”

“Peter?”

He nodded reluctantly. “The…mother sort of…lost it and became unstable.” He said sadly.

“Did she…?” I asked but didn’t want to complete my question.

“They lived in a more remote part of Makarovia.” He again looked bothered. “I told you, life was hard here. One of the other things is the isolation and darkness many times during the winter with the storms and short days. It will be the end of this month when the sky, at best will be a dull grey during the day. Often in January, it is pretty dark most of the time. People become…depressed.”

I looked at the girl about ten and her brother about seven or eight. I had heard of this in some of the more northern parts of the world. People would become very depressed. You don’t think it possible, but days where there is almost no sun could play havoc on a person’s psyche. “Sure, I’ve heard about it. They started light therapy…I think in the northern parts of Russia like in Siberia and other cities inside the Arctic Circle that are doing the same thing. It is to treat that depression.” I pulled him closer and pressed my forehead against his. “Things…happen.” I shrugged.

He nodded. “They do. Their mother killed her husband while he slept and then killed herself.” He sighed and looked at the two happy children with their new fathers at least. “They almost died themselves.”

“Almost died, but they didn’t.” I reminded Peter. “You did all you could.”

Peter nodded. “We try.”

I watched as one of the father’s, both men had dark hair and were in the late thirties or early forties. One of them picked up the little boy and tickled him making the boy laugh, begging to be put down. “They seem happy. How long ago was this?”

“Three years ago,” Peter said. “Aneta was hardly older than Aleksander, her brother is now.” He smiled as the father put Alek down bringing the boy into a hug. “Mark is the one hugging Alek. David is Mark’s husband. They are very nice people.”

I chuckled as David said something to Aneta who laughed shaking her head at whatever David has said. He held her chair out for her to sit down. I leaned against Peter. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person from Makarovia that wasn’t nice.”

Peter frowned. “You know there are people not so nice here. We don’t have a prison here. We have a jail, but…it’s almost never crowded.”

“You said there is the occasional murder or theft.”

“Again, because of the climate, they don’t stay. When we were more actively a part with the Soviets, they took the harder criminals, which were few here. When we were still part of the Ukraine, they took them.” Peter explained. “Drug dealers and elements like that just don’t do well here.”

“I can see that. The people here are too busy staying alive.”

Peter nodded. “That’s right.”

“We’ll talk more about it.” I looked up as dinner was about to be served. “Later.”

 

There were differences as the traditions had merged together from the many countries. In the Ukraine; it was a fun day there, too. The day in Makarovia had some other things that were unique. We all had the kutya, that sweet wheat portage with the dried fruit, raisins and honey to help bring good weather, remember? I ate a good bit. I wanted the weather to be good this year.

There were the dances done, but where there were folk dances done by the traditional male and female couples, I was pleased to see one couple was male! Who led was simply because one was taller! There were the carols and a puppet show. Yes! That was definitely Ukrainian. The shepherds visited by the three kings who were celebrating Jesus. The shepherds sang songs that all the children knew and we all sang with them. Bear with me a second, part of the show that showed Rachel, whose children were killed by the order of King Herod. I know it’s horrible, but we all know he did have the children killed. How the angel told Joseph in a dream to get Jesus and Mary out of Bethlehem before it happened? There was the scene where Rachel cursed King Herod and as he died, the devil comes up and takes Herod body and soul to Hell!!! It was tradition to teach the children about what happened.

The puppeteers were good. The puppets were funny and made the children and adults laugh while making a point.

There was also the story about Kozak Mamai, the defender warrior for freedom and honor. That part of the show showed the cowardice and greed of man. People that cheated and lied, done in a humorous way because they thought they’d fooled Kozak. Kozak defeats all of them and laughs at the cheater and liars, even laughs at the devil himself! The puppets were funny. They taught the many children lessons! The stories were sometimes sad but presented in a funny way for the younger Makaorivans with positive endings. It really was a mixture of St. Nicholas’ Day and Christmas. This went on for several hours! At last, the Bishop came into the room. Having never been to the church here, I didn’t know him. I didn’t think there was a Bishop in Makarovia! My guess was he was like the Santa Clauses that were in the malls and on corners ringing bells. None were Santa, I think. He was dressed like a Bishop! He came in with a large wooden box that was red and trimmed in gold.

Olek stood from his place at the table. “Okay! Put all the letters in that box. I will make sure they are delivered.”

The poor man who was the Bishop was suddenly being rushed toward as little hands were putting their letters in the box. All making sure their letter was in. When it was done, Olek went to the Bishop and took the box to be delivered. In this way, it was like sending letters to Santa Claus.

The anticipation of the children could be felt in the air as eager faces were bright with hope and it was truly a magical night.

“I always love Christmas,” I said, not really to Peter, but he was there.

“I’m glad you do,” Peter said putting his arm around me as we watched Olek deal with the box. “Keep that magic.” He turned me around to face him. “I love you, Eric.”

I shortened the space between us kissing him. “I know you do. I love you, Peter.”

“I know you do.”

Copyright © 2017 R. Eric; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

Does anyone read the letters to Svyaty Mykolay?

 

I think most post offices around the US arrange to have volunteers read through the letters to Santa that they receive to try to fulfill the kids’ wishes in at least a small way. Many organizations arrange giving trees where each card lists a child’s age and gender – and sometimes, first name. People are encouraged to take a card and buy a gift for the child on the card. The gift with the tag is returned to that organization for anonymous distribution to the child.  ;-)

 

Other groups collect toys and games, trying to match children to the gifts. Everyone loves buying gifts for little kids. But gifts for teenagers, especially boys, are less frequently donated. And while some teenagers (boys and girls) appreciate sports equipment, some of us were never athletic. Not all households have computers and electronics, so video tapes, CDs, and DVDs are not alway appropriate either. Not all students read at their grade level, so books are not always appreciated. Not all kids would have friends to play board games with because some neighborhoods are not safe to wander around in. It’s difficult to know what kids would want, especially if you don’t have kids of your own.  ;-)

Every thing sounded magnificent. Whenever someone says ballroom I always think of the grand one from Beauty and The Beast. Which is sort of like Eric and peter, peter thinking himself ugly but extremely handsome to the wonderful Eric. Sorry, that's my fave Disney movie next to Toy Story. Back to the ballroom, I could just imagine the beauty and the love flowing through it. Wonderful chaptet

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58 minutes ago, Wesley8890 said:

Whenever someone says ballroom I always think of the grand one from Beauty and The Beast

Whatever you are seeing is absolutely right.  You're seeing it.  A little French, but you saw it.  I will remind you all.  Makarovia was a little poor before.  Whether you see Beauty and the Beast's ballroom, or the ballroom in that cartoon movie Anastasia (which is more Russian and many in Makarovia are Russian) or even the ballroom in Cinderella, which I didn't use that much.  You are all correct.  (I'll whisper to you.  Remember they said they hid treasures in the mines to keep them out of the hands of the Nazis and Soviets?  Don't forget that little diddi.)  I'm just saying.   :whistle:

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"Keep that magic" and believe in magic, all of us. I'm expecting that there will be some war-time treasures brought out of some of the caves that hid people during World War II and the subsequent occupations by Russia and Ukraine.  I wonder if it is possible that back in some of the most remote regions of Makarovia we keep reading about, there might be a family or two who have been living in their caves, subsistence farming and hunting ever since WWII. Cut off from the rest of Makarovia and content to be so.  Great chapter.

Edited by skyacer
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