General Fiction posted August 1, 2025

Chapters:

...13 14 -15- 16 ...

tfawcus

Tony Fawcus, ex-RAF Navigator and Junior School teacher, spent 22 years living on South Australia's Fleurieu Peninsula where he ran a small farm and a B&B cottage before his recent move back to Adelaide.

He is an accomplished novelist and is currently at the #7 spot on the rankings.

He is an accomplished poet and is currently at the #84 spot on the rankings.

The Seal of Quality committee has rewarded him with 6 seals. He is also an active reviewer and is holding the #24 spot on the top ranked reviewer list.

Portfolio | Become A Fan

Exceptional

This work has reached the exceptional level

Man to Man

A chapter in the book Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate

Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate: 15

by tfawcus

Background
A bomb blast in Ukraine killed Dmitri's 17-year-old twin sister. As a result, he suffered catatonia but has now recovered under Elena's care. He is in love with Leila, who works for Elena.

The postman dropped Dmitri in front of Baba Roza's café and drove off with a cheerful wave. Dmitri scarcely noticed. All his attention was focused on the railings where he had chained Elena's bike. The bike was no longer there. How foolish he felt, especially after Elena's scathing remarks at dinner the previous evening and his flippant reply.

What a fix he was in! He not only had the embarrassment of his foolishness, but he would have to walk into town for his art lessons in future. An empty Kvass can was lying on the pavement, and he gave it a mighty kick, sending it skewing off his foot straight through the door of the café.

'Oh, no!' he groaned.

Moments later, the proprietor's bear-like hulk appeared. He lumbered through the doorway, the crushed can in his left hand and a rolling pin raised in his right.

Dmitri cowered in the shadow of this formidable adversary. 'I'm sorry, Mr Doroshenko. It was an accident.'

Mr Doroshenko's glowering features relaxed. 'Oh, it's you, is it? The artist boy. What the devil do you think you're doing? You nearly brained me.'

'Really, I'm truly sorry. Someone's stolen my bike, and I was taking my frustrations out on the can.'

Mr Doroshenko grunted. 'It's a good thing you don't play for the Dynamos, lad. You'd better come in and cool off.' He handed Dmitri the crushed can. 'This is yours, I think.'

Dmitri sheepishly followed him into the café. Nadia, who had been watching from the window, giggled like a schoolgirl. There was her hero again; David against Goliath, and if he hadn't actually won, at least he hadn't been flattened by her father.

A couple of locals in the corner looked up. One of them called out, 'Hey, Myko, what are you going to do with the little beggar. Bake him into a pie? Roll him into a strudel?' Their belly laughs reverberated around the room.

Nadia leapt to his defence. 'He's not a little beggar. He's the one who saw off those three hooligans yesterday afternoon. Treat him with a bit more respect.'

They both got up and bowed to the floor. 'Sorry, princess!'

'Take care!' The proprietor knitted his eyebrows together in a most alarming manner. 'No one speaks to Mykola Doroshenko's daughter in that tone of voice.'

Suitably chastened, they shrank back into their seats, taking refuge behind their coffee mugs.

'Nadia's right,' Myko said. 'You behaved honourably yesterday, young Dmitri, standing up against those scoundrels. I'm proud of you, and if you promise not to shy drink cans at my head again, you may call me Mykola, man to man, instead of Mr Doroshenko.'

'Don't be so pompous, Papa. No one around here ever calls you Mykola.'

She nudged Dmitri and whispered, 'You have my permission to call him Myko. He's a very lovable bear most of the time. He won't mind.' She turned to her dear Papa and said, 'Are you going to tell him, or shall I?'

Myko's face broke into a broad grin, exposing two gold teeth that glinted like the heavenly twins. 'Your bike's safe, lad. I cut it free with a pair of bolt cutters yesterday evening and put it in the shed around the back. You can't be too careful these days.'

If Dmitri had not been so much in awe of the great man, he'd have thrown his arms around him and kissed him on both cheeks. Instead, he spluttered out thanks, which Myko brushed aside like flies settling on his strudel.

'Be off with you, and take more care next time. No one can be trusted these days! Nadia, take your gallant knight out to the shed and give him back his Rocinante.'

Rocinante? Dmitri looked puzzled. Nadia lifted her shoulders, spreading her hands theatrically in a gesture that indicated she hadn't got a clue what her father was talking about either.

She grasped Dmitri's hand and dragged him across the room and out through the kitchen. One of the old men in the corner gave a low wolf whistle that withered on his lips when he saw the expression on Myko's face.

She trundled Dmitri's faithful old boneshaker out of her father's toolshed and lingered by the handlebars a moment longer than necessary. Dmitri thanked her rapidly and with stilted formality before leaping astride the bicycle and pedalling away as fast as his legs could carry him.

***

He whistled cheerfully as he bumped along the cobbled street, and by the time he reached Madame Miret's, he was puffed up like a turkeycock. Despite his earlier stupidity, he had gained Myko's respect. Man to man, he'd said... Not only that, but it was clear that Nadia had a crush on him, an ego-booster for any red-blooded young teenager if ever there was one.

Pavla met him at the door with a towel over her shoulder and paint on her hands.

"You've taken your time," she said, but not unkindly. 'Come inside. I want to talk with you.'

He took the steps two at a time and proffered his sketchbook for inspection. Pavla brushed it aside.

'No, not about art today. About my dear friend, Elena. I suppose you know it's her 40th birthday today?'

'Really? I had no idea.'

'That's just like her. I don't suppose she's told anyone. Never mind. We're not going to let her get away with it.'

'No, of course not,' Dmitri said doubtfully. 'What have you got in mind?'

'A party, of course. A surprise party, and that's where you come into it. I want you to invent a pretext for getting her down here into town by six o'clock this evening, and in her finest gown. Everything is arranged. It is to be held in Major Kolt's house, and the mayor will be there to present her with a medal for her work at the clinic. Andriy and I have been friends for a long time. The poor man fell off his horse yesterday, but fortunately, no damage was done. Just a badly bruised arm. My heart missed a beat when I saw it in a sling when he came around to see me earlier this morning.'

'Major Kolt? But Leila and I were there when it happened. His horse shied and threw him.'

'How extraordinary! He told me he had been rescued by a pair of young lovers, but I never imagined he was talking about you.' She took a pace back and studied Dmitri in a way that made him squirm. 'You have hidden depths, it seems.'

Dmitri blushed and quickly changed the subject. 'But I don't see how I can persuade Elena to put on her best clothes and come into town. She'd never even think of it.'

'Ah, but there is a way. A little birdie told me you have your own celebration coming up soon. Your eighteenth birthday. Tell her that the party is for you. That will do it.'

Pavla moved across to the window and looked out. 'You're right, though. She'd never come if she thought it was for herself. There's an old wives' tale about turning forty. Some people believe it is bad luck and that celebrating it is inviting trouble. It's even associated with death. Absolute nonsense, of course, but my dear friend is a superstitious old thing.'

Dmitri frowned. He didn't like the sound of that, even if it was nonsense. Anyway, he couldn't refuse Madame Miret. 'All right, I'll do it. She's a wonderful person, and it's fantastic that the Mayor is going to honour her in this way.'

'Good lad! You and Leila are also invited, of course. I'm sure Andriy will want to thank you personally for your help yesterday, and maybe he can give you some advice about your plans for the future.'

Write A Review

Recognized

#11
August
2025

Footnote: Kvass is a popular Eastern European drink made from stale rye bread.

Characters

Dmitri, a teenage boy recovering from catatonia (a state in which someone is awake but does not seem to respond to other people and their environment).
Mira, his twin sister, who was killed in a bomb attack.
Elena, a volunteer carer looking after Dmitri and aiding his recovery.
Leila, a Syrian girl employed by Elena.
Pavla Miret, an art teacher.
Andriy Kolt, an army major.
Mykola Doroshenko (Myko), proprietor of Baba Roza's cafe in Velinkra
Nadia, his daughter

Setting: Velinkra, a fictitious small town in Western Ukraine, in the Carpathian Mountains.

British English spelling and grammar are used throughout.

Thank you for reading and reviewing. I welcome honest, constructive criticism.

Photo by Toby Do on Unsplash

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.