literature

The Mere Tide P15

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Dachni paced in demoniac rage voicing aloud the brutalities she would inflict upon her tormentors. When she finally came back to the ail her things were piled outside the yurt and she snatched them up and returned to her den and slung them through the moon hued tree veins teething that dark slit. There was a stifled cry. She looked inside. Holnifa sat rubbing her shoulder.
Goddammit sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
Holnifa was draped in a trio of blankets. Бәрі жақсы.
That bitch is a fucking whore an pigs is somewhere in this country gonna make a slut of her.
Ішке кір.
Dachni slid through the gap into the arms of her friend. It took her a moment to settle in her lap and then the blankets enveloped her in a good seeping warmth and fragrance of blackberries.
Осында.
A smuggled bowl of gyozo was pressed into her hands. Small pork dumplings with browned undersides.
Мен сені ұмытқан жоқ. Ол OK болады. Мен таңертең ана сөйлесіп бара жатырмын. Сіз қалуы. Мен сөз беремін.
She kissed her forehead. Dachni ate and drank and shared a good measure of whiskey. In their deep night solitude she tried to release the sable hatred of her soul seep out but where would it go?
In the morning outside the mother's yurt Holnifa thumped her fist atop her head and cautioned her to silence.
Jess fer ye.
тыныш болыңыз, said Holnifa reading her face.
They entered hand in hand to confront the mother only now discovering her youngest's absence. Seeing them together reignited her fury but Holnifa raged her case citing the absolute inadequacy of her home wherein she had been isolated by the plebeian judgment of her illiterate peers, her privation of the affections her siblings enjoyed, decried the shamed life of the crippled forever burdened and burdening that precluded her from full initiation in the tuqim by the neglect of her tutelage in its history and the cessation of her instruction in the crafts traditional to girl kind and that furthermore her prospects of upward mobility were dashed as she could expect no dowry for her disfigurement and so what was it to have a friend? however uncouth?
A shaman was sent for and his prompt arrival hinted at a soul wise to evil, that there was neither quarter nor hour favorable to its propagation but that to time and place it was indifferent. An adherent to the Tengrism. Solemnly bedraped in dyed jute and musteline spliced with sea shells wherein the echoes of alien shores could be purportedly heard. He wore bead bracelets on his wrists and a totem round his neck. He listened attentively to the mother's complaints and then dismissed her and sent for soup.
He watched them eat. These girls in their chaps of mud, the one who sipped from her palm, the other who employed daintily a spoon. He studied their ornaments, the necklaces of gem or ear, their bracelets and fetishes. He asked how their clothes had gotten so muddy and Holnifa told him of their burrow and he asked would they show him to it and when they were finished eating they did.
He shined a flashlight in those dark confines a few minutes then sent Holnifa to fetch a tool bag from his abode. Holnifa set off. While they waited they installed a wood board at the mouth of the den to keep the water out. She came back ten minutes later hefting by main strength an enormous duffel bag. It was slung across her and she was bent almost to the waist in its port. She dropped the bag at their feet and floundered in cinematically exaggerated exhaustion into the arms of Dachni.
Wuhhh.
Dachni pulled her across her lap. Yes you.
Yes?
She tickled her sides and she scrunched up laughing.
The shaman smiled. He opened the bag and distributed spades to the girls and leaned back inside the den and made shaving motions against the walls and the girls catching his drift clambered inside to scrape themselves a larger room. He contributed nothing to their efforts but by morning there was room enough to stand and lie down and by that time the mother coming in general inquiry discovered their works.
Apoplectic she was but the shaman had been twice divorced and he weathered her tirade stoically and dismissed her. He turned to see the girls peeking out from the den. He clapped his hands and they leapt back to work. He went away. He returned strapped with a backpack and slung over both shoulders with bags and carrying plates of hashbrowns and biscuit sandwiches of sausage and cheese and egg. They breakfasted and bailed out the last of the water and he opened the bags to reveal basic household paraphernalia.
He laid out cutlery. A lamp, a gas stove, solar panels, a small generator and batteries for it, and rugs and mats. He supervised their decorations, a quiet dictator, gently suggesting this wall mat be arranged so or this carpet need not be so straight. He oversaw the creation of the shanyrak. Holnifa above and Dachni loosing the soil between the roots. Last of all he inscribed Ομφαλός over the entrance and Holnifa hung wind chimes on its left and Dachni strung a rista of ears on the right.
The girls admired their work and the shaman blessed the house and laid hands upon them and intoned a prayer and went away. They clambered inside and looked about smiling ear to ear. Holnifa twirled like a dancer. They sat everywhere. Feelings of possibility in them. They read a book. A little later they went up to the top of their house and studied the shapes of clouds.
Throughout the hours envious tykes would find excuse to detour near their hovel and in their brief sauntering by would turn up their nose and fabricate injustices to tell their parents.
The girls retreated to their den and peeked out and competed to see who could compose the vilest curses to ladle upon their enemies.
сізге говно жаңбыр көрейік.
Holnifa covered her mouth in shock at herself.  
Whats that mean?
Mean...
Well?
Blushing pudic creature too embarrassed to repeat herself. She pointed at her rump with genuine modesty and mimed defecation. She'd no more than done so but that she flew into a fit and swore she was not so vulgar.
Dachni slapped the mud and laughed. Draw theys eyes and fit em up each others ass to see em shit.
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