The Luster of Stars in Moscow
⁇ 1
Olympus Palace City Hall, St Petersburg.
*I am a marionette*…
Marionette is just a wooden doll controlled with a rope.
My whole body is made of wood. Not feeling, not moving, just waiting for someone to control me.
From the top of the head to the top of the foot…
Cheri Dutchskova tried to concentrate her concentration, not caring about her surroundings. "The top of the head." he muttered to himself. "The tip of the head," he murmured again as he ducked with one hand outstretched straight ahead parallel to the head and blocked the path.
"Can I pass?" The flat voice of a man surprised him.
Cheri was flabbergasted and looked up with both eyes and mouth rounded.
The distinctive taper face of the bowed migi doll looked at him with a flat expression.
Cheri blinked and fell. Very handsome, his mind amazed. Is he an angel?
The man's face looks like the result of a maestro's sculpture. Its strong bone structure and facial lines are truly admirable-like emerging from dreams, as the embodiment of every woman's imaginary figure. His pair of eyebrows were black and thick with an elegant shape. His nose is looking up. His lips formed perfectly.
And the most remarkable of all, was his pair of blue eyes that contained magnets. His piercing gaze was filled with mystery.
His height was about one hundred and eighty inches, his hair was as long as a ruler. A shiny black leather jacket was attached fitting to his wide shoulders.
The towering figure of the broad-shoulder passed through Cheri with wide steps.
Cheri was still staring at his back.
"Cherry!" The noise of someone distracting Cheri. A girl of her own age rushed towards Cheri from the intersection of the corridor at the end of the courtyard of the city hall. The girl was dressed in a ballet outfit like Cheri, except that the girl wore a black top that resembled a magician's suit or a male witch in the eighteenth century without the tutu-rocks of ballet. "I was looking for you from earlier," the girl gasped for breath. "Why haven't you come in yet? It's our turn soon!"
"Sorry, Nina. I must be performing, really! It's just that I haven't been able to animate my role as a wooden doll." Cheri explained.
"Oh, that's right!" Nina groaned as she twirled her eyeballs. "Before you were too woody and finally couldn't even dance!"
"Yes, but I'm not human" Cheri said.
"Oh, in ballet you don't have to go into that deep role!" sergeant Nina was impatient.
The tall towering long-haired man earlier suddenly turned his head towards them before he turned the corner of the corridor. His pair of eyes were fixed on Cheri while listening to his conversation.
Cheri turned his head spontaneously and looked at the man.
"Cheri! Nina!" Another noise disturbed their moment. A middle-aged woman in formal suit shouted at the two girls while ruffled by the waist. "Quick! It's your turn soon."
The two girls simultaneously rushed towards the entrance towards the back stage.
The middle-aged woman followed them while grumbling. "Nina! Remove sweat!" spray the woman when they get backstage. He snatched some tissue from the committee table and gave it to Nina.
Cheri peered into the audience bench through the narrow gap between the wall and the edge of the stage. Dad didn't come, did he? His heart wondered, while his mind began to drift.
.
.
.
"Father, for me ballet is not just a hobby" he told his father, the day before the stage. "I want to take ballet seriously. So, let me go to ballet school in Moscow."
His father did not answer. Stay focused on the St Petersburg Times he is reading.
"I know Dad must have thought that only ballet, in St. Petersburg could, too" Cheri added. "What else am I still sitting on the bench of SMU. But, just this time-please come to my final exam stage."
His father did not react.
"I know you're very busy." Cherry continued. "But please come. If you change your mind after seeing me dance, at the end of the show, give me a gardenia wreath…"
His father raised his face. But didn't say anything.
Cheri let out a short sigh and bowed. "If you still don't agree to me going to school in Moscow, you don't have to give me anything. Because I wouldn't want anything else" he said, forcing a smile.
Cheri finally turned around and left his father's study without waiting for an answer.
I said it, thought Cheri. He knows his father rarely speaks, but that doesn't mean he doesn't listen.
His father's silent and sour face was not a response of antipathy or hatred. Not even indifference. His father was just too quiet, that's all.
.
.
.
"Mother, it's Brother Cheri's turn!" Cheri's sister told her mother. They've been in the audience for half an hour, but their father didn't show up.
"Ouch! How's dad, anyway?" His mother started to get nervous. "Say he'll be home an hour early."
Meanwhile, in the courtyard of the spacious Olympus Palace city hall, Maulana Dutchskovich, Cheri's father, ran in droves to reach the entrance. No hunting, huh? He wondered in his heart as he tried to speed up his pace.
"At the end of the year like this in the department store must be very busy" said his mother on the bench, on the inside of the building.
"Cheri is indeed outrageous," his father grumbled at the gate, still trying to reach the entrance of the building. "Why should she ask for flowers that are hard to find? If camomile flowers in all florists are also definitely there. This kid.. huh!"
Maulana Dutchskovich gasping. Then stop his steps while bending his stomach. Next to her hand snatched the collar of the shirt and loosened its tie, while the other hand held the gardenia wreath carefully.
Lucky I got it a little late, he thought. Cheri will be pleased.
His breathing began to stabilize, but his chest still felt tight and burst.
What the hell's going on?
Maulana Dutchkovich staggered as she tried to straighten her body. His chest was hit by Godam.
"Please!" the screech was half suffocated.
Just at that moment someone was just about to come out. Maulana Dutchkovich's body fell and hit him. "Are you okay, sir?"
"My face. da.." Cheri's father groaned weakly.
"You better not talk first" the young man who was about to come out earlier restrained his body. "Please call an ambulance!" he shouted at some people who were passing by.
The men rushed towards them and swarmed Maulana Dutchskovich.
The middle-aged man gripped the arm of the man propping him up and raised the wreath in his hand trembling. "To.. please. replace me.. Give this to my daughter. please... this is very important to her…"
BRUK!
The man's body collapsed on the floor.
Instantly the atmosphere around him was suddenly rowdy. People were running towards them and more and more people were crowding.
"Some one fainted!"
"Please call an ambulance!"
People were shouting out.
"Hey, I know him!" Someone shouted and slipped into the crowd. "He's Mr. Dutchkovich, my neighbor."
"His pulse..stop!" someone else shouted.
"Tell his family!" yell at the others.
The man who received the wreath gasped. Between worry and shock. "It's important to my daughter" said the middle-aged man earlier, he thought.
What about his life?
Where is more important?
This flower bouquet is definitely more important! The man concluded.