aria Kondratova "Night Bat or The First Flight"

There is a good deal of jumping, running, and falling down, firing a gun, and in the end soaring heavenward. In addition there is “steeping in tears’, predicting and discrediting, tilting at wrongs…Little and lively Night Bat and her friends Marine Rabbit, dreaming of the sea, and little Birdie prodigy achieve their aims. Night Bat and Birdie expose a treacherous Oracle Bird and save a romantic cow Ikka from inevitable exclusion from Random Wood. Everything will end up with a load Bang plotted by Wee Wily Creature. All in all Night Bat will fall to thinking what a real Flight is, and then will realize that absolutely ‘walking’ animals can fly in their souls but wing-bearing ones just ‘crawl in the air’.

It is a philosophic fairy tale for children and not only for them.

“Night Bat of The First Flight” is a present for everyone who remembers what it is to fly in sleep. This fairy tale is about painful but joyful learning to fly.
 

Chapter 1.Main characters prevent the Flood
 

Every night stars lit over Random Wood and the moon swam in the sky over the trees. Sometimes it looked like a big pallid-green apple or was almost whitish like a slice of lemon in a cup of hot tea.

Sometimes it was a stealth flight across the black sky on its heavenly business. At such nights the Random Wood seemed to be playing hide-and-seek. With eyes snapped shut it was crying in the dark, “Ah –ah –ah! I can’t see anything whatever!”

At nightfall the Distant Glade and the stars above could hear a loud indignant squeak of Night Bat and a disapproving grumbling of Marine Rabbit. Marine Rabbit was a fine fellow! In every whit a rabbit! A long time ago, early in life, he had a good mind to go to sea, but failed to find the right path there. He might have taken the wrong direction. In memory of those times he was wearing a stripy singlet and an orange jacket with dozens of capacious, middle-sized, and tiny little pockets. As all barnacles do about himself he always had a short pipe made of cherry-wood and felt he was an old sea dog, though he never smoked and even couldn’t put up with the odour, which is an unpardonable weakness for an old salt. If it were not for that, he could be called a real old sea dog, but then, you must admit that, it’s fairly odd to name him a dog, even a sea dog. So, that was all to the good he didn’t smoke.

The cabin of Marine Rabbit with its neat porthole-like round windows stood right under the tallest pine in the wood.

Marine Rabbit pathetically called is his mizenmast.

It was all loaded with rope-ladders and cables like a Christmas tree with garlands and tinsels.

There was a small sail, too. It was set in the branches and loudly flapped at windy nights. At the top of the pine an ensign was flying – a silver rabbit’s padprint on a bright blue cloth. It was embroider by his friend Squirrel as a present in token of respect. Under the ensign he felt as if he were a pioneer, travelling through a wildwood, where no rabbit pad might tread.

As for the rest he was a common rabbit.

You may ask me why he was the marine rabbit. No ‘why’, please!

No one in the wood could knot so ably – bowline knots, flat knots, reef knots and all sorts of other intricate knots. He cared not to be out of hand and never left practicing. In one of his numerous pockets there was always a string or a shoelace. Toward the evening numerous knolls of knots made it look like a strand of beads.

After a busy day Marine Rabbit would sit on a low stool near the stove clearing the string slowly and with dignified movements.

He made no doubt that was the best way to finish a well spent day.

“Here this small knot might have been better.”

The long-eared dreamer muttered to himself.

“It’s because I got angry with gazoony Peter…But a rage is a bad counsellor … this one is absolutely lovely!...How sweet the kids of White-Tail Anel are. I should remember to treat them with marrons.”

In the daytime he dreamt of storms and voyages, but in evenings Marine Rabbit appreciated homely home and peace above all.

Hardly had he sat himself on his favourite stool and settled down to think, Night Bat ran out of the nursery and fell to yammer.

“I don’t want to go to bed! I won’t sleep!”

She protested with a stamp of her tiny toe.

“I’m a night bat, that’s it! Why should I live like other diurnal animals?”

Night Bat was an orphan. Marine Rabbit found her half frozen and helpless last autumn. In the winter he was sure his adoptee was the most gentle and obedient creature, but then spring arrived and the summer was coming – Night Bat behaved as if she had been spelled.

No quiet evening throughout the month. The old salt sighed deeply and dropped his work.

“Yes, honey.”

He agreed patiently.

“You are a night bat. But you are quite young, and the young should obey the elder. Owls and foxes go hunting at night. Believe me, such encounter will afford you no pleasure.”

The Rabbit was kind and ingenious but none of a child-minder. Night Bat got encouraged rather than scared.

“Tut-tut! It’s me who will afford them no pleasure!”

Have you ever seen night bats? No doubt!

They can be seen in summer nights not only in the wood but in town, too, where they flick from the shadows, scaring belated passers-by. People call them ‘flying bats’, which is not really true. We never call mice, which are almost the same size, ‘running mice’ or ‘prowling mice’. Besides, Night Bat, whose wonderful adventures make the topic of this book, couldn’t fly yet. You must admit that it’s unfair to call an absolutely non-flying bat ‘flying’. By then it was a common walking Night Bat. She used her plush wonderful smoke-grey wings as a blanket when at long last she was in bed.

(As for books, to read them is as interesting as to write. You never know what will happen further. I will go ahead, as a guide. I won’t hurry up or take the ball before the bound. We’ll travel together from page to page, from one adventure to another.)

“Terror!”

Night Bat squeaked indignantly.

“Terror and violence!”

Where did she pick up such words from?..

Night Bat was going to continue her angry speech, but then outside the window a cowbell clanked softly and a low, tender voice mumbled,

“Divine evening … Harmony of heavens … Sacred hearth and home… My dear friends … May I be kindly allowed to see you in your modest shelter?”

“There you go.”

Marine Rabbit uttered a sigh.

“It figures.”

“Yipe!” Night Bat squeaked guiltily.

“I didn’t mean that!”

She scampered away to the corner intending to hide herself in the nursery if things will go wrong.

The cabin door opened slightly and two very big eyes heavy with sorrow looked inside. A heart-felt voice repeated the question.

“Why, sure, Ikka, come in.”

Marine Rabbit rubbed his nose nervously.

“Oh, you are so very kind!”

Sad Ikka emphasized. A heavy transparent tear ran down her check, plopped on the floor and turned into a small puddle.

Sad Ikka was extremely sentimental. Few in the Wood were able to appreciate sentimentality and romanticism of that big grey cow, so she was though to be a harmless eccentric.

Sure enough, the cow couldn’t let herself in Marine Rabbit’s cabin. There wasn’t enough room for her. The round-windowed cabin was too small to welcome so big a guest. But such trifles are unimportant for a fond and sensitive soul. Sad Ikka nodded gratefully in response to the invitation in such a manner that a candlestick on the sideboard nearly dropped. She remained behind the door.

“My heart was hurt by sounds of non-consent and discord.”

She pronounced eyeing them with curiosity.

“Has the dome of heaven tumbled down?”

Sad Ikka liked eloquent and florid verbiage.

“I say!” the rabbit complained. “Night Bat refuses to go to bed”. She says she is old enough to choose for herself.

“Oh, no!” The babe whispered pathetically. “I didn’t mean that.”

But her protest sank in a tubular and tragic bellow of Sad Ikka.

“Oh, Bat!”

The caw called with a deep voice full of rebuke.

“How could you, Bat, disdain the care and concern and reveal treacherous ingratitude to out beloved Rabbit, who gave you…”

Ikka stammered and gave a sob, her beautiful corniflower-blue eyes filled with tears, twice as big as before.

“Oh, no! That really is too much!”

The horror-struck bat squeaked. She imagined Ikka to burst into sobs and flood their cabin, as often happened.

“I will never!”

“She’ll never do it again.”

Marine Rabbit backed up since he was also alarmed at eventual flood. As all other animals in Random Wood he tried to spare Sad Ikka’s high feelings. At the same time he was fond of his little cabin and would prefer salt water overboard rather than in the middle of the living room. Marine Rabbit felt sorry that had started the talk.

“Why, sure! We live in perfect harmony!”

Night Bat jabbered the seeing his approval.

“I’m going to bed. Good nigh, Ikka!”

“Good nigh, child!” Ikka bellowed gently.

“Your angelic obedience is honey to my soul. Candid conciliation of loving souls is so a touching scene.”

Ikka said it retiring in the dark and closing the door in the most careful manner. Such quiet and delicate farewell was called to ‘take French leave’. Ikka read about it in some novel and invariably followed that elegant foreign custom. She was so very a romantic cow.

“Good night, Ikka!”

Marine Rabbit called after her and latched the door.

To connect with author, please, write:

E-mail: maryko@mail.ru