Ivan, the man by the pond

After having ignored his alarm clock for over 5 minutes, it was time for Ivan to get up. No matter what a man did, each morning waking up takes something from him. Whether it’s waking up to make breakfast for the family and bring the kids to school, to report for work or to take care of animals.. To first hug your wife and say good morning and then leave the sheets. To each his own. Ivan had lived through many hard mornings, just like this Tuesday when he woke up to a day that seemed the same as all others.

‘Oh lord why’, mumbled Ivan as he turned on the light on his nightstand. ‘I don’t.. Whatever..’ Nights are cold in this part of the country and Ivan had to pull open the window that had frozen to the frame. It felt to him like pulling off a band-aid, like the end of a soothing night in privacy that harshly and without mercy turned into another morning. He wanted none of it. ‘But what’s a man to do..’ Ivan thought. He put on his night robe and didn’t bother to make the bed. Nobody to keep the house tidy for anyway. Ivan stumbled to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He yawned for what seemed like a minute and slowly brought his jaws together again. He lit his first cigarette and watched the smoke crawl over the ceiling.

Ivan had all forgotten what he had dreamed about and he hadn’t remembered any dream since his wife left him. His nights were just a blur that he hoped would end as soon as did his days. There was little sense to it all, at least that’s how Ivan saw it. It had been so cold in the living room that the water Ivan poured was too cold to drink. It caused him a headache. Ivan had a rough shave like he always did. He chose to focus more on the left side of the face as he had done the right part yesterday. He’d always get bored after doing the one half so he couldn’t be bothered. It eventually evened out but his face always looked like a patchy field of dying grass.

‘I don’t even know how I get through my days at that cursed place..’ Ivan thought to himself. He was referring to the light bulb factory he had sold his hours for a mere simple man’s living. It had bored him to tears from the start as there was no variation at all. The only difference through the days were how bad his shaved looked and how many spoonfuls of sugar he felt like putting in his coffee. He’d quite had enough of it but felt his responsibility to at least pay to keep the heating running, as winter was coming. Every day again, Ivan had found a reason to turn up and let his boss walk over him again. He never worked fast enough, his boss was never satisfied with the number of light bulbs he stocked a day. Even if it would be a thousand shipments and the whole world and for all Ivan cared the whole universe would be lit with the damned bulbs, it wasn’t enough.

The boss, named Miroslav, had held a grudge towards Ivan ever since he spoke up about the shortened break hours. From then on his minutes were measured and so was his output; the number of boxes he piled up and wrapped in plastic to be then shipped to wherever. Ivan couldn’t care less even if they were shipped straight to the devil. He’d want to be home. As he had spent his morning already overthinking the dread of it all, it suddenly dawned upon him ‘what if I don’t go? What if I would do as I please all day? No, I should at least have a reason to abstain from working.. I am not sick and should not act like a sick man. I don’t want to call it on myself.’ Still, Ivan couldn’t let go of this idea. After all, though cold, the weather was still bearable and relatively sunny. He could do.. Stuff he wanted? What scared Ivan was that he didn’t know what he wanted. His life had revolved around the early waking hours and the late nights gulping down his soup and tearing and eating pieces of bread. There was little else going on in his life.

Even though Ivan resented leaving the wooden house to make his way to the bus stop, he put himself to it and put on his woolen socks and then his tall leather boots. He left the heating on slightly so not to have the pipes frozen and walked downhill. Birds were singing in the frosty morning and Ivan felt the cold air penetrating his lungs. Eventually Ivan waited at the bus stop with the other workers whose faces looked just as depressed as each morning. There was no place for Ivan in the bus stop so he waited next to it. The bus driver was one of the few people he could get on with. They had daily, pleasant conversations. Little did Ivan know that the driver called Stan would help change his day. And so Ivan hopped on the old bus that very slowly drove down the village main street, on the way to the industrial area in the nearby town. ‘Today I just don’t feel like it anymore, I just can’t bear the thought of turning up..’ said Ivan to Stan, whom steered around some potholes. ‘So you don’t go’, said Stan. ‘But how does that work?’ said Ivan hesitatingly. ‘You tell your boss to find another guy to bother and you just walk into the woods or something, enjoy some time for yourself.’ Ivan thought he had something going here and strongly aligned his thoughts to Stan’s. As all the workers got off, Ivan asked Stan if he could drive another round with him. Stan was up for this and so dropped Ivan off at the edge of the forest. ‘Do you know what you’re doing? Don’t lose yourself in there, the nights are cold..’ Stan said. Ivan clicked his tongue and got off the blue bus that drove farther down the muddy road.

As Ivan entered the forest, it didn’t even come up in him to let his boss know he wouldn’t turn up. The light bulbs could count themselves for all he cared. Ivan had no orientation of the forest as he had never been in this part of town before. He just kept walking and far away he heard some loud shots. The hunters had woken up as well and were probably tracking down deer. Ivan felt like a little kid, sitting at a small pond he discovered and looking at his own reflection in the water. He looked happy and fulfilled and noticed himself carrying a wide smile whilst staring at the face of the water. As he continued his walk around the lake, he lit a small fire from a pile of wood that had halfly burned up. ‘It must have been left by some hunter, there are even matches.’ Ivan started singing a song about early mornings and felt the peace and quiet around him. Eventually he realized that this could be one of the best days of his life.

He kept strolling through the forest and eventually, with a loud bang, his foot got stuck. Ivan didn’t feel anything until he looked as he had already fallen down onto the grass. It was a hunter’s trap that had been covered in branches.. He had not thought about this and screamed out of fear. As he couldn’t rid himself from the tight rope around his limbs, he kept lying in the grass. It didn’t hurt much but Ivan realized the danger of him being out in the cold, with nobody around..

This was not the only realization he had, it dawned upon him that he had experienced one of the best mornings of all his life just by listening to his heart. He had never been more afraid and happier at the same time. The tears were rolling down his cheeks. And so he concluded, with fear and regret of his previous mornings, that even though he’d have to spend the night, he could at least count the stars. And he would count all of them, just as he counted the light bulbs through all other days.

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#Shortstory

Short story: "Darko"

Awoken by a thunderstorm, Darko sat himself against a pile of pillows and wept away his eye discharge. It had been quite a heavy night with the guys and as often, it ended with him getting too little sleep for his business the next day. He thought little of himself, like he constantly disrespected the day after by always getting so little shuteye. In just half an hour, he’d have to be all set for the big event of today. Opening the window blinds, the sun was still hidden somewhere. The dark and gloomy sky greeted him with an anxious ‘good morning’. Anxiety was one of Darko’s more severe problems apart from the regular alcohol abuse. It could be correlated, he thought as he wrestled his fat legs through his narrow trousers. ‘The devil’, he hissed as he ripped right through the bottom whilst bending over to reach his socks.

Darko had a rough start of the day, quickly pouring a cup of dark roast coffee which he always gulped down in a few sips. His wife Mirya told him to be safe on the road after listening to the forecast on the morning program. She was cooking eggs as Darko slammed the terrace door aside to reach the porch, lighting up his first cigarette. Darko was certainly no healthy or handsome man but he had some manly ways that left women in awe. Just a certain type of women, until they saw right through the talk and the lies. He cared just for his business and his little built up pile of wealth. Mirya was not his first wife and might not have been his last. If only..

He stood on the porch not far from the pouring rain. The porch where he and his men had drunk, played cards, grilled meat, sang through the nights and now and then had a fight. His men would pick him up in ten minutes, Darko reminded himself as he checked his golden wristwatch that clenched more and more tightly around his hairy wrist. The golden watch had been passed on by his father whom wore it until his final day. Darko had dreamed about his father the last couple of nights, dreaming about his violent death, experiencing night sweats and waking up breathless. Mirya, the caring Mirya would lay him back to rest and hugged him until he relaxed and dozed off again. Darko got sweaty palms just thinking of the restless nights.

In front of the house, just one honk told Darko that it was time to go. He rushed back in and shoved the door, leaving it open so a chilly draft crept through the living room. Mirya handed him his long coat that reached over his knees. The one garment that did not make him feel like a heavy man at the moment. He hastily kissed Mirya goodbye and she went back to check upon the eggs. Darko took his thick wallet from the hallway table and rushed through the front door. Out there on the drive was the black Mercedes with the engine running. He could just see the bright headlights beaming through the millions of raindrops coming down from the sky. He was awaited by Mitko with an umbrella which covered both their heads. He was led to the back door and got in, Mitko shaking the drops off the wet umbrella and shutting the door gently. Mitko got in the front seat and offered Darko, the driver and the bald man in the back a cigar. The driver slowly backed down the car towards the forest road leading up to the mansion. Making a turn and slowly rolling down towards the village, the men did not speak a word and slowly sucked on their cigars. Darko could say they were nervous, and so was he. They were never to be told about Darko’s fear and anxiety as it would hurt his reputation and character. Even thought they suspected he had issues, while in the car they couldn’t think of anything apart from their own nerves.

The village was still asleep with just some vans stocking up the shops with bread and household items. Darko was known in the village but nobody mingled in his business. To each his own, the men all knew. Outside the village, the weather worsened and the driver decided to break the silence and heavy breathing of the men by switching on the radio. A slow jazz tune seemed to calm the nerves they were all trying so hard to hide. Fifty minutes south from the village it was the first turn right onto the dirt road. Before dropping speed and making the turn, the driver with a leather hat and a big round nose slowly ran his fingers down the silver cross hanging from the rear-view mirror. The car turned right and the men’s heads bumped up and down to the movements of the car as it drove through some potholes. ‘Take it easy there’, said Darko with a cracking voice. The leather hat then moved left and right observing all holes and navigating around them. The windshield wipers hastily moved up and down the window but the rain was so heavy they could hardly keep up.

The music was turned off to Darko’s instructions and the wipers were the only noise apart from the wheels of the car spinning to hold grip on the muddy road. ‘Does Mirya know?’ Mitko asked. The driver with his asymmetrical head adjusted the mirror to see Darko’s reaction. Darko frowned and stared outside the window. ‘No, poor her. Forget about it. It’s over now. She’ll get to know.’ The car had trouble crawling through the muddy curves leading up the mountain. ‘You’re all worthless’, mumbled Darko. He sighed heavily. ‘Why bring this car out of all I’ve provided you with?’ Nobody spoke for the last half hour. It was another right turn and the car got almost stuck. The driver touched the cross at the rear-view mirror again and pushed the now dirty car to its limit. It got unstuck and so the men arrived at a brick and mortar barrack with a cement sheet roof. The area, cut off from everything, was surrounded by trees just having lost their last leaves in the autumn storms. ‘We’re here’, said Mitko. His heavy boots first touched the muddy ground outside the car. ‘Coffee’s ready’, said a stocky bald man named Emil, standing in the door opening of the mountain shed. His trench coat protected him from the cold and it seemed he was about to leave. ‘Coffee with cream, as you like it. Everything is here for a month’s stay.’ Darko nodded slowly and gave Emil in his trench coat a thumbs up. ‘You may all leave now’, said Darko with a low voice. ‘Don’t tell anyone about me being here. Don’t speak to Mirya. I don’t want to have the same faith as my father’s’, he said while tightly holding onto his golden wrist watch.

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#Shortstory

A tale about the alarm clocks in our lives

We might not often think of it, but the way we are woken up has significantly changed over the years. I’m talking about the alarm clock, our often strongly disliked friend that wakes us up to a new day. They ring one after another, through billions of homes as the earliest sunbeams reach the face of the earth. Each bedroom has one of some sort. And although waking up early is not always pleasant, the alarm clocks provide a reliable service day in and day out.

Remarkably, the alarm clock is one thing being universally replaced by mobile phones. This piece of technique waited silently on our nightstands until the second it woke us up. From the first days of school as a young kid, it tagged along many years until it woke us up at the day of our graduation speeches.

During days of dark clouds we would rather tuck in, the alarm clock allows us some mercy to doze off. We hit snooze and forget about it. It does not forget about us. A bit later, the same noise tells us to report for daily obligations. Some are lucky and are awoken with a pleasant song on the radio. It might wake us up on our wedding days, us waking up with joy and no remorse to the clock. Regardless, it’s with us. So it has long been, until the last days. Where most have been replaced.

I want to shine a light on the origin of the alarm clock. It’s said that Plato (428–348 BC) was woken up to prepare for his lectures by a water clock (1). The word for this clock is clepsydra, meaning water thief (2). You can see how it worked in this clip. Such an inventive device. Apart from waking up the philosophical legends in ancient Greece, such devices were used in Greek and Roman courts to announce the time a speaker had to make his plead (3). Rather interestingly, these clocks were also used to remind customers of the early Athenian brothels that their time was running out (4). Another often-cited inventor of the alarm clock, a striking model, is Buddhist monk Yi Xing (683–727) (5).

Levi Hutchins had invented the first mechanical alarm clock, helping him wake up at the crack of dawn. This model could not be set at any other time; 4am was its only setting (6). As Hutchins had not acquired a patent for this invention, the French Antoine Redier did so in 1847. The patent had not reached the US and in 1876, Seth E. Thomas (Seth Thomas Clock Company) patented his own version.

Again crossing the Atlantic, versions improved one after another. In 1931, the Westlox Chime Alarm was introduced with the slogan “First he whispers, then he shouts”.

The production of alarm clocks already had the conveyor belts spinning. The industrialization of the world led to a mentality shift: “Time is money”. Workers had to become more adapted to working with machines, thus having tighter schedules. Even though mechanical alarm clocks were growing in number and finding their way into many households, there were people waking up without them well into the Industrial Revolution. In Great Britain and Ireland, knocker-uppers received a few pence by pounding on windows and doors waking up residents, so they could still get to work on time (7), (8). This profession was well and alive until alarm clocks became more affordable for the general population. The knocker-uppers would not leave your window frame until they had been assured the person had woke up.

During the years, alarm clocks in all shapes and forms have had their place in our bedrooms. There are those that wake you up with a freshly brewed cup of coffee or there’s underwear that vibrates when it’s time to leave your comfy bed.

The slow disappearance of alarm clocks could be another typical symptom of how phones have become more involved in our daily lives, from early morning right until we turn off the lights. The UK carrier O2 held a survey, concluding that 52% of their users’ alarm clocks had bit the dust. In order to hear the noise of the alarm clock, the phone is often close to the bed if not in it. Studies prove the use of light-emitting devices before bedtime prolongs the time it takes to fall asleep. They suppress the release of melatonin, the hormone that tells us it’s time for bed. Now that there are phones with “night mode” on the market, shining less bright light upon our sleepy faces, we are truly in the middle of change. A revolution in behaviour we might even say. We are yet to see how the change in devices impacts our sleep/waking pattern. Nevertheless, it’s good to realize we are part of this change. And although we might not have noticed, it is a big change. How Plato woke up and how we did this morning, after all it’s not bad to rise with a gentle ring.

© copyright 2017 - All Rights Reserved

(1) Humphrey, Oleson & Sherwood 2003, p. 522

(2) Goodenow, Orr & Ross (2007), p. 7

(3) Hill 1981, p. 6

(4) John G. Landels: "Water-Clocks and Time Measurement in Classical Antiquity", "Endeavour", Vol. 3, No. 1 (1979), pp. 32-37 (33) (5) Joseph Needham, Volume 4, Part 2, pp. 473–5 (6) Mary Bellis. "History of Clocks" (7) Leigh, Egderton; Roger Wilbraham (F. R. S.) (1877) (8) Macauley, James (1857). The Leisure Hour Vol VI. London. p. 312.