By Zdravka Evtimova
Ann was a good-looker, a charmer! She grew up in a poor cabin but her beauty grew up much more quickly than her. She was brainy, too. She was sly and cunning alright, collected herbs and cured bruised and burnt hands.. backs and legs. I doted on her. Wherever I went, no matter what I did, her dark eyes danced in my thoughts like black whirlpools. And I was the son of the wealthiest man in the country, my father, Ivan Ivanov, possessed thousands of acres of fertile land. If you planted a single grain of wheat in his field, you'd harvest thirty loaves of bread from it in the autumn. I was Ivan's only son and, of course, I was to inherit everything : the land, the woods, the warehouses, the inns and dairies. My old man used to say, "Son, you'd better marry a decent wife, and not some slut. Take my tip and choose yourself a clever, healthy girl. I know one, her name's Martha Popova."
The Popovs brewed brandy, nicknamed Thunderbolt by young Bulgarian dudes, and kept the secret in the family. No living soul could brew grape brandy like Martha's fat, enormous father. Did the old pouch put feathers of a nightingale in it, so that the brew sang like a bird? Did he simply throw live coals into it so that a swig of it scorched you, setting all your bones and guts on fire? At the time, I had frittered away thousands on a woman, one of those shrewd beauties who loved you for money, while Martha was having an affair with a divorced tobacco merchant.
But our fathers got together, argued, and pondered reaching an agreement at last that the two of us should marry. They devised a very ambitious plan - directly after our wedding ceremony, I was to plant my thousands of acres of land with vines and Martha's father was to brew enough Thunderbolt to flood and souse the whole of Bulgaria, even Greece. I wasn't so dumb as to say no to the millions that knocked at my door; yet there was a fly in the ointment...
Each time I met Anna I couldn't take my eyes off her. I said to myself : "Boris, you are undeniably nuts. Do something about it, let your heart relax peacefully in between your ribs. Stop biting the pillows in the nights mumbling her name like a moron! Go and talk to Anna!"
If, by chance, I caught a glimpse of her, the sky above me started to jump and kick. I wished she hadn't been the daughter of a shabby widow! My father guessed I was out of my mind on account of that girl and set about making things straight. He paid one of our addle-brained shepherds a large dowry, asking him to marry Anna. the guy shouted, "Thank you, Sir!" trying to kiss my father's new rubber boots, so grateful he was he'd have Anna.
"He won't take her, that idiot! I will!" I swore to God then ran to Anna's shack like the wind in a blizzard. Hardly looking at the girl's magnificent face, I blurted out : "Anna, come with me! Let's escape to Greece!"
"The richer you get, the dumber you become!" she snapped.
"What?!" I shrieked.
Then I took her.
Here I am now, an old man of eighty, and I confess to my Maker - I committed a sin. I kissed her like a wild bear, and when my eyes took in everything I had done, I was scared stiff. I thought I'd only made love to her, but Anna had stopped breathing and there was no rag left on her back.
My father counted the days remaining before I was to tie the knot. Martha and her father visited our house and I had to say I loved her. But I didn't!
My father was in seventh heaven. He brought four seamstresses from Sofia to our town and consulted famous fashion designers about the particular cut of my wedding tailcoat. My old man was as proud as a peacock and would never let his son dress like a hick for his wedding! Dancho, the famous county cop, was put in charge of my safety. There were heaps of villagers, envious of me; someone might be tempted to put a match to his rubbish heap. A big smoke would rise to the clouds, putting the mockers on my grand wedding.
At last, my tailcoat and formal trousers were ready. Wasn't I a real cool dude! So tall and spruce in my new suit I looked. I went out, crossed the square and strutted along the main street. A flock of little children clustered round me, housewives, and flappers, every living soul staring enviously. I could hear young women nearby sighing wistfully. What a pity that our town was so small! I soon reached the outskirts of the last suburb, the houses of petty traders looming white. Then I tramped across the desolate meadows, kicking furiously the stunted shrubs, there being no-one in sight to admire my tailcoat!
No sooner had I decided to return home than fireflies began to swirl before my eyes, the earth beneath my new shoes shook and rolled.
"Gosh!" I shouted and that was all. Something very heavy - was it an iron bar, or a crag, or an axe? - clobbered me on my head.
"Help! Help!" I screamed. The Story Continues Here