Three Wishes~part 1 for the December Picfic Tuesday Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

CHRISTMAS PAST

Times were lean, but the little blond boy and his siblings were well taken care of and loved by their family. Though Illya Nickovich had no calendar, he knew like so many children did, Christmas would soon arrive. His mother and grandmother busied themselves, cleaning their home, doing what little decorating they could in preparation for the holy day.



Religious observation was frowned upon by the government but there were those who still followed the old traditions, celebrating the birth of the Christ. The Kuryakin family were ones who clung to those solemn beliefs.

Christmas Eve arrived and young Illya spent it in church with his mother, babushka, sister Katiya and the twins Sasha and Misha.  Sadly, Nicholaí Kuryakin and his eldest son Dimitry were off in the forest with the Roma cousins, helping to set up a winter camp with the partisans as part of their preparations for war with Germany. Not everyone had been conscripted into the grand Soviet Army and some of those left at home would be ready to do their part should war with Germany arrive, as many feared it would.





The priests and monks prayed as clouds of incense filled the air, though the crowd of people standing in St. Andrews was the smallest yet. Illya stared up at the red wall filled with the gilt icons high above his head and said his prayers as he’d been taught;  though the excitement of gathering afterwards for the Holy Supper to break the Lenten fast filled his head. He let his eyes drift to the paintings in the white and gold dome towering above the iconostasis as his tummy grumbled its complaints.



A small choir chanted along with the clergy, their rich voices echoing throughout the baroque style church. They and many of the parishioners held candles to light the service as there was no electricity.  

The government had not raided St. Andrews yet for the exquisite artwork, but it was feared the holy place would soon be closed and its religious people taken away to re-education camps.

The older priest, Father Demya rose to the pulpit to give his sermon, but  Illya’s attention had already drifted to the smell of food and spices wafting up from the church basement.
Once the service had concluded, the people were led down to one of the many rooms, where they would celebrate the Holy Supper.

Normally such a tradition would be held in one’s home but having it at the church allowed for the pooling of  food resources so all could partake, as some had little food in their homes, and might not survive the harsh winter.

The Holy Supper was in honor of the Christ Child and included white table cloths symbolic of Christ's swaddling, hay for poverty, a white candle for "the Light of the World", and a large loaves of bread, "pagach" for the "Bread of Life."

The Lord's Prayer recited by Father Demya, was followed by the mothers of each family blessing their brood with honey in the form of a cross on the forehead.

Finally, the meal began with the singing of the Christmas troparion and the lighting of  more candle, placed in the center of each table, symbolizing  the star of Bethlehem. The bread was then broken by just one of the fathers and given to everyone present, as many of the men had been taken away to join the Red Army.

The meal, though meatless to honor the Lenten tradition, kept the mood to one of contentment, but the whispers of war weighed heavily upon everyone’s hearts as  rumors of Germany sweeping across Europe were spoken of.

Despite that pall, the evening was made cheerful enough for the children, with a visit being paid to them by Father Frost and the Snow Maiden. They carried toys for the little ones...petrushkas, matryoshkas, painted clay figures and wooden animals whittled by some of the neighbors.

Illya knew Father Frost and the Maiden weren’t real, even at his young age. They were just people dressed in threadbare costumes, but he liked them anyway.

As their gifts, Katiya was given a set of nesting dolls, the twins each received a rattle and Illya, a little carved pony, all painted in bright colors, but the most special things he received that night were from his grandmother and mother.

“Illyusha, you must treasure this,” Baba said, handing him a brass pocket watch. He knew instantly who it once belonged to, a man he’d never met.

“This was your grandfather’s,” she smiled at him, running her fingers through his silky blond hair. She decided to give the watch to the boy, even though he was too young to carry a timepiece;  she knew he’d be careful with it. Her oldest grandson, Dimitry had no mind for such things and would probably lose it.  Illya was the clever one, and there was little doubt he would understand the workings of the watch in no time as well as honor it as an heirloom.

“I know and I promise I will take good care of it,” Illya said so seriously.

“And this is my gift to you,” Tanya Kuryakina said to her son.  She handed him a folded piece of paper. “Eto vse moya lyubovʹ k vam. nositʹ yego s soboy vsegda_it is all my love to you. Carry it with you always.”

Illya took the letter from his mother, not reading it,  but instead kissed it and tucked it and the watch inside his little black cap, and put it back on his head.

Winds whistled through the streets and buildings, as they walked down from St. Andrews along the winding cobblestones of Andriyivskyy Descent, but little did they know this would be the last time they would be in church together.

The darkening sky was filled with snow as they walked from the church down to the city streets to make the long trek homewards to the little red dacha on the western outskirts of the city. To the delight of the children, a man took pity on them and gave the family a sleigh ride in his horse drawn Troika.

They were all snug under piles of blankets as the sled glided along the streets of Kyiv with the sleigh bells jingling merrily in time with the trotting of the three white horses.

When at last arriving home, Tanya put wood in the fireplace and had the flames roaring in no time to ward off the frigid night.  Winter was arriving with its full fury and soon they would be cut off from the outside world as the snow deepened.

Everyone changed to warm dry clothes. Katiya and the twins were put to bed by grandmother, and slept in the sitting room to conserve firewood, with the three of them laying on a down filled mattress covered with woolen blankets and a wolf pelt. Illya would sleep on another mattress on the floor, nestled between his mother and grandmother when it was time.

Mama made steaming glasses of hot tea sweetened with just a bit of a rare treat, raspberry jam. Together the three sat in front of the hearth warming themselves, as Illya cuddled in his baba’s lap.

Babushka rocked and hummed to him, while his mother joined her in harmony, as she often did..

The clock on the mantle tick-tocked a steady rhythm, with oil lamps set on either side of it as it was nestled among the boughs of pine mama had brought inside decorate for the holiday,  She’d lovingly tied one of her red hair ribbons in a big bow there to make it look more festive.

Little lllya stared at it all, becoming dreamy eyed until he was lulled to sleep, holding the pocket watch in his hand, with the letter from his mother now folded up, hidden within the back of it.

He closed his eyes, wishing the peace of this night would never end.

Illya Nickovich Kuryakin fell asleep to the scent of pine, dreaming of little prancing wooden ponies whose painted hooves sounded like the ticking of a watch while the melodious voices of the choir still chanted in his head.

"Electric Light Orchestra - Hold On Tight" (Watch on YouTube)