It had been a cold winter in Romania. Not only had there been snow roughly 25 inches deep in Bucharest, but in a remote village in the mountains, it was bound to be almost a metre deep. Bogdan awoke early that morning, staring out of his bedroom window for half an hour, watching the glittering snowflakes fall gently to the ground. His eyes rested upon a red postbox surrounded by a chalk white haven. It was like jam on icing, a parrot among doves, a scarlet rose in a field of pearl white snowdrops. This was surely some sort of paradise. This had to mean the end to an ongoing disaster.
Autumn had arrived finally. Bogdan found himself adapting to the cool, windy weather already, the heatwave had passed and he found himself, quite often, taking long walks around the countryside wearing a fleece and gloves. Ah, it was bliss, when the leaves floated lightly off their treetops. He enjoyed the scenery in peace. Although something didn’t seem quite right, it was silent, but it was eerie silence. No birds or buzzing flies could be heard, apart from the rustle in the trees. But out of nowhere, before Bogdan could expect it, the only thing that could be heard were distant screams and, unmistakably, an explosion.
“What is happening?!” Bogdan called, hoping an answer would follow. But none did. Another explosion. Panic filled the atmosphere …
Two dictators approached the screaming crowd, one tall and proud, the other lingering excitedly at his site. By the looks of the people around him, Bogdan was right to think he wasn’t the only one confused and doubtful. But at the sound of the whistle, an army appeared behind the dictators – all staring coldly at anyone suspicious – including Bog. Then one of them shouted at the top of their voice:
“Down with Northern Romanians!”
Suddenly, the soldiers charged at the innocents. Bog tried to push his way through the crowd – but only causing himself to get pushed back again. Even though there were gunshots in the background, they all seemed to be heading for Bog. And he could do nothing to fight against them.
He was running; running back to his house where instinct led him. But he arrived in less than 5 minutes to see his house burned down, his possessions destroyed and his family fleeing from the Southern Romanians. The leader picked up Bog by his collar.
“This land belongs to us!” He roared, daggers of spit hitting Bog’s face. Then, the dictator smiled; it was widening by the second.
“And we have decided to banish you from our land.”
He let go of Bog immediately, who muttered after noticing the malice in the man’s voice:
“Don’t get too cocky, because I’ll be back.”
As Bogdan stumbled off towards the north, more of the army dragged Bog away and threw him to the ground. The leader approached him again.
“Oh yeah, didn’t I tell you? You’re out by tomorrow. If I see any trace or sign of you tomorrow, you’ll be living in prison for as long as I live.”
The army sniggered at this. Bog, feeling more than threatened or embarrassed, turned his back on them bravely and shouted:
“Promise me one thing. If you do find me tomorrow, that you don’t get any kind of private problems involved, because I know how you like to brag. Thank you, and good day to you all.”
As Bog looked at their stunned faces for the last time, he ran towards the mountains, laughing and smirking every time he thought of them and their expressions of unexpected surprise. Maybe they reckon they have more authority than God if they don’t expect to be insulted by anyone, he thought.
It was a bright new day, no clouds in sight yet Bogdan could feel a chilly breeze. He walked onwards towards the mountains – clearly not bothered that he was supposed to be banished from the land. He was more worried about his family. He was trying not to imagine the second dictator destroying his favourite things. Instead, he concentrated on the journey ahead and where he would soon settle.
It wasn’t long after Bog’s departure to the north that he found a place to hide in the mountains that was quite satisfactory. He stayed in a nearby cave rather than the village, though he warned the villagers not to tell the army that he was hiding up in the caves. This was a lucky move – because the army approached that village the next day and all the villagers had given their word that they wouldn’t give him away – as they were against the Southern Romanians too.
The next morning, Bogdan collected some bricks and firewood from the village green and took it to the outskirts of the village and started to build a house there. Temperatures were quickly decreasing as Bog moved deeper into the mountains, which was the reason for the firewood. The first bit of construction for the house didn’t work out very well and Bog tried and failed many times. But one morning in the following week was almost miraculous – his family had found his new location.
“Bogdan?” His mother called nervously. His eyes flew wide open at the sound of her voice.
“Oh my God, mum is that really you?!”
“And your siblings!” Cried two younger voices in delight. Bog could not control the great joy in his heart. He picked them both up and cuddled them. He had finally felt comfortable with the new place.
He spent that whole day enjoying the reunion and the next morning they all began to build; with an outstanding end result. Bog felt this was because of the confidence he discovered after the wonderful appearances of his closest family members. They had finally completed the plan and layout of the house, and the nosey villagers couldn’t help but watch them work, in awe. But this news spread around very quickly …
The following two weeks had suddenly become very intense. There were times when the villagers would come rushing to the newly built house to warn Bog & his family of the dangers of the Southern Romanians and that they could find out he still lived in “their” country. After several warnings from the villagers, he felt there was nothing else for it.
“I’m leaving for as long as I need to convince the Southern Romanians I’m gone for good. I promise I’ll be back when I feel the time is right,” said Bogdan, the following morning. By the looks of the family’s faces and the tears running down their cheeks at this news, they were both nervous & disappointed at the same time – but like Bogdan, they thought it was for the best. Although he still couldn’t help feeling waves of devastation run through his veins.
He set off at midday towards the deeply snowed in mountains. As his family wished him all the best of luck, he looked up at the great forests and heights that lay ahead in his path. This was it; the start of his life-changing journey. As he looked back at his crying mother and his whimpering younger siblings (his dad had joined a war against the Southern Romanians too), he briefly told them to work on the house while he was gone and to gain self confidence, then they can achieve anything. Then, he made his first new steps into the freezing cold of the awesome mountains. His heart leapt with glee as he saw over the horizon. All that could be seen were beautiful, striking mountains with pointed tops all coated in snow. He wanted to do nothing else except begin his adventure in the highest areas of Romania. So, with an ecstatically-paced heart, he climbed the next few rocks that took him safely down the next mountain, a tear settling below his eye as he saw the last glimpse of his house in construction for the time he was gone.
Bogdan hoped, if he was lucky, that he would see his father somewhere. But he doubted that highly because he was told by his mum that his dad was fighting down south. As Bog headed further north, he was wondering by what time he would actually cross the border to another country. This was something he did not want at all or the Southern Romanians would’ve got their wish in the end, and he didn’t want to give in that easily. Luckily, on one of the mountains there was a signpost to say that 30 more miles ahead would take him to the Ukraine & Moldova border so he made sure to travel south-east along the mountains towards the sea instead of travelling west and risking entering Hungarian land. Though, as the thought occurred to him, he decided to travel in circles because then he wouldn’t leave any particular pattern in the direction he was travelling if the Southern Romanians did manage to track him down.
It was 6am on a Friday morning. Bogdan did not attend school anymore, firstly the schools would be taught by Southern Romanians and secondly there were no schools he could get to in such a deserted area. It didn’t bother him though; he was safer travelling the mountains. As it was early morning and Bog had only awoke at the sound of the harsh wind blowing against his tent, he thought the more walking he did now the better – it would mean less chance of the army finding him. So after a brief breakfast of nothing but a spare banana he had packed, he set off on his journey once more. Though he didn’t like to use the word journey to describe his travel across the mountains because it he didn’t really do this out of pleasure and he wasn’t even too sure about his destination. As far as he was concerned, the only reason he was travelling like this was to convince the Southern Romanians he had left the country. Though the next day, things had turned critical.
Bogdan was not awoken by the wind this morning, but instead by a gunshot. There was no mistaking it. He didn’t eat breakfast this morning; instead he packed up his tent hurriedly and rushed down into the forest where the sun had not yet drowned out the darkness. Firstly, looking over his shoulder, he realised who had made the gunshot. Standing in the brightness of the hills where he had just slept, was the second dictator. He was smaller and yet menace still glinted in his face expression. Another gunshot was fired into the sky. And over the horizon appeared a slightly smaller (but still as malevolent) army. Bog took this as a warning to run; the second dictator must’ve spotted him which is why he fired a gunshot in the first place. So, with his not-too-heavy backpack, he paced away slowly and then, after realising the big avalanche of armed men shooting towards him at full speed, he broke into a very fast run also. The harsh wind hit his cheeks as sharply as needles hitting a pincushion. It was painful but he could not afford to stop as already the men at the front were gaining on him. But his legs would not let him run any faster and they began to go numb, making him slower. At this point, he wondered whether he would ever make it back to his family; whether he could ever live with the guilt of leaving them at his new house with no possible contact. With these thoughts zooming back and forth inside his mind, he could not concentrate on where he was going. He didn’t even recognise the path anymore; it was all so much different here. But as he headed out of the forest, the light came back to him, and miraculously, a motorway appeared. There must be some way of leading the army in the wrong direction here, he thought. It was his only chance – he was desperate to do anything. Without really taking in another thought, he leapt outwards from the top of the gate protecting the hills from the motorway and he landed on top of a coach. It took him several seconds to realise what he’d just done and, breathing hard, he nearly fainted at the sight of a motorway easily held high enough in the air to kill him instantly if he fell off it. He looked behind him and realised the army were stranded there, though few tried their best to run after him across the land next to the motorway, but there was no way they could keep up as the coach was travelling too fast. Bog made a sigh of relief to get away from them, yet now he was facing a much worse problem – he was lying face down on the roof of a coach with nothing to hold onto except a small bar above the windscreen. As he held on for dear life he tried his best to think he was really just on a very scary rollercoaster and he’ll be let off soon. But he could not block out the reality of his actions and the way he was clutching onto this front bar as if it were his parachute and he was falling through mid-air. He did not really care where the coach took him, he was fearful enough already because of the danger of falling off the edge of a coach driving at 80 miles per hour.
Bogdan could’ve been perched there for almost 20 minutes, but to his absolute delight, the coach turned off at a junction that led him safely down to the ground and even slowed to a stop at a business park 1 mile away from the junction. As he felt as though he could scream in utter ecstasy, the driver, following the shivering passengers out of the coach doors, he looked up at Bogdan in disgust and fury.
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at? You think it’s a joke jumping on top of random vehicles do you? My passengers nearly had a panic attack!” He yelled at the top of his voice. Bog was almost unconscious and therefore could not answer straight away, but as soon as he pulled himself together, he replied:
“What do you mean? I wasn’t doing anything, I was clutching on there for dear life as some Southern Romanians were trying to kill me!”
The driver looked taken aback at this.
“W-Why would th-there be S-Southern Romanians here? They should b-be in the south, w-where they belong.”
Bogdan rolled his eyes. He hated the Southern Romanians, but he knew they weren’t that stupid. They were trying to rule the country after all.
“Never mind that now. Firstly I need to find my way back to a village in the mountains, called Strambu-Baiut. Do you know the way from here?”
The driver hesitated, and then nodded slowly.
“But you have to pay more, for causing a disturbance for my passengers. It’s not a lot more, only £5 more than the usual price, considering the damage you caused. The normal price is £1.50, so £6.50 please.”
At this, Bog looked frustrated. He had only brought a tiny amount of money with him that was already at the bottom of his backpack. He counted out the money he had and saw that he had only £5.10, so he decided to try and reason with the coach driver.
“I will give you this for now, and I promise to pay you back £1.40 when I get home. And you already know the village I live in, so if you have to you can come back the next day and get it from me if I’m too shattered to do it tonight. So, do we have a deal?”
The driver stared at him in unfriendliness for a few moments, and then, controlling his rising temper, he muttered:
“Yes, well, alright, come on then, get in.”
Bog took a seat at the back of the coach next to the window and then felt a warm heart at the idea of returning to his family again when only an hour ago he had thought he’d never make it back.
Half an hour later, the coach entered Strambu-Baiut and Bogdan shouted out the directions to get to his house. After a few arguments and misunderstandings he made it, and his family was there to greet him. He wasn’t sure how they knew he would come back today at this time, but that wasn’t the main thing on his mind at that point. The driver pulled up onto the curb and Bog realised how developed the house had become while he was gone. He was so proud of his mum & siblings for taking care of the building while he was gone. He went straight to his newly built bedroom and gave the driver the £1.40 he owed him. After the coach left, Bogdan hurried to his mum and siblings and gave them all a big hug.
“How did you know I was coming back?” He asked his mum out of curiosity.
“Well, you’ll be glad to know that the Southern Romanians have decided to raise the white flag.”
“What? Really?”
Bog was very confused at this.
“Yes, in fact, the leader is waiting to talk to you in the kitchen. Please don’t let it wait any longer; he says it’s very urgent.”
Bog, who was not sure how any of this had happened when the Southern Romanians had tried to kill him two hours ago, headed towards the kitchen to receive the important message the leader had to tell him. When he walked through the door, the leader stood up, not smiling, but not frowning either.
“As you might’ve already heard, we decided to call peace between both sides.”
Bogdan could only nod, what he was hearing prevented him from speaking.
“So, this means you no longer need to leave the country. You’ll be safe here with your family and there should be no reason for you to have to trek the mountains like you have the last couple of days.”
He could not believe his ears – it was almost too good to be true. But he narrowed his eyes carefully.
“I don’t trust you.”
The leader was now smiling.
“Yes, well I expected you to say that. But no matter how much you trust us, the war has stopped. That’s all I came here to tell you so if you could let me leave now.”
He turned away and walked out of the door. Bog sighed in relief for the second time that day. He finally felt that things were going the way he wished. And now winter was approaching, he could only sit by the fireside in total warmth and rest.
It had been a cold winter in Romania. Not only had there been snow roughly 25 inches deep in Bucharest, but in a remote village in the mountains, it was bound to be almost a metre deep. Bogdan awoke early that morning, staring out of his bedroom window for half an hour, watching the glittering snowflakes fall gently to the ground. His eyes rested upon a red postbox surrounded by a chalk white haven. It was like jam on icing, a parrot among doves, a scarlet rose in a field of pearl white snowdrops. This was surely some sort of paradise. This had to mean the end to an ongoing disaster.
(I'll post it up onto the story portal tomorrow - I think I'll need to leave a bit of space between the parts here and the parts on my Halloween SWC entry
)
