The Week of the Black Goat!
30% off the black shades:
- Black Cat
- Bully
- Advisor to the Darkness
- Mother of Oil
I’ll tell you a story about the times when our village was rich and joyful. The times, when our cattle weren’t born with black hair. I’ll tell you in my own way, don’t mind skipping a bit if I forget something. It all started in those dark days when freezing cold took over the Lands, and not a grain of snow fell on the ground.
The hut is small and poor. There is a woman, an old man, and 4 children huddling there.
The old man’s calloused hands rifle through under the bench.
“You scam, don’t you dare to hide!”
He screams and tries to fetch a boy, the fat sluggish stepmother can’t reach him too. Deeper under the wide bench, his only refuge. Only cats are allowed to join him.
“For God’s sake, he is to be given away!”
“So what? This one won’t stay for another month, he's skin and bones! The master’s blind as a mole, he can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl! Like he cares at all!”
The father’s weak, like a fading light, he grunts, lies in a heap of rags, barely looking like a living person. The three girls are cuddling in the same heap, trying to warm up. We call it Wintarmanoth — when the cold is so fierce, it wipes all the living creatures. People are starving, only Kepur, the pork head, feasts during this time.
They say, he is the cursed master of a cursed house. Whoever serves him, gets into trouble. The ones that have given him a child, the ones that served him — they all are 6 feet under.
A witch once said she had a vision as if the master turns into a black pig and rides a girl on his back. The girl - she’s naked - laughs, screeches, beats his fat sides with her heels. They say that was the witch who cursed the master and made Kepur blind. He spreads his arms and touches, and gropes, and grabs.
The boy is ready: clean, the hair’s golden and curly, dressed in his sister’s dress and a belt. Well, she put the boy's own coat on top, so neighbors won’t see a thing. She’s afraid of gossips, this cow.
When he’s at the master’s place, there’s no need to be afraid, there are no visitors. He rarely leaves his house, but sometimes, on holidays, people see the lights in his windows and hear laughter. The old women say witches and demons come to see him. But who listens to them, these old women…
“Wash your face, do not sip loudly,” the Stepmother gives more and more advice. The younger girl whispers to his ear.
“Catenalis, how can you not play with me anymore? You promised!”
Catenalis says nothing, he appears withdrawn. He isn’t even allowed to pat his cats before he goes. In the night, the woman took him away and then pushed to the gates. A lanky coachman with a lantern then led the boy into a wooden house.
The house smelled of fresh straw and garlic. A flashlight burned on a wooden table. There is fur on the floor and on the benches. It’s not even scary to stay there! Somehow cozy. His straw mattress is new and crispy, the blanket is clean. Here it is, a new house where you feel no cold, no hunger, and no fists beating you.
You know, it’s always hard to sleep at a new place. The boy sneaks outside, closes the door and…
It’s warm! But the fog creeps out of nowhere, and the sky is clear, and the moon is bright and pot-bellied.
He notices a goat in the cornfield. Waist-deep in the corn, standing on his two feet, a black goat in a coat!
Catenalis liked that one. He felt it with his heart, that the Goat is much kinder than the “leech” coachman whom he followed on the way here.
Meanwhile, the Goat broke off an ear of dry corn and hides in his bosom. Crack. Another one. Crack. And hides. And one more.
He doesn’t even look at the boy. Doesn’t blink, the eyes are golden, pupils like a cleft.
Catenalis approaches him. Take an ear of corn, gives it to the Goat. The Goat picks it with a smile - can you imagine a goat smiling? - and disappears in the fog, as if there was no one.
30% off the black shades:
- Black Cat
- Bully
- Advisor to the Darkness
- Mother of Oil
I’ll tell you a story about the times when our village was rich and joyful. The times, when our cattle weren’t born with black hair. I’ll tell you in my own way, don’t mind skipping a bit if I forget something. It all started in those dark days when freezing cold took over the Lands, and not a grain of snow fell on the ground.
The hut is small and poor. There is a woman, an old man, and 4 children huddling there.
The old man’s calloused hands rifle through under the bench.
“You scam, don’t you dare to hide!”
He screams and tries to fetch a boy, the fat sluggish stepmother can’t reach him too. Deeper under the wide bench, his only refuge. Only cats are allowed to join him.
“For God’s sake, he is to be given away!”
“So what? This one won’t stay for another month, he's skin and bones! The master’s blind as a mole, he can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl! Like he cares at all!”
The father’s weak, like a fading light, he grunts, lies in a heap of rags, barely looking like a living person. The three girls are cuddling in the same heap, trying to warm up. We call it Wintarmanoth — when the cold is so fierce, it wipes all the living creatures. People are starving, only Kepur, the pork head, feasts during this time.
They say, he is the cursed master of a cursed house. Whoever serves him, gets into trouble. The ones that have given him a child, the ones that served him — they all are 6 feet under.
A witch once said she had a vision as if the master turns into a black pig and rides a girl on his back. The girl - she’s naked - laughs, screeches, beats his fat sides with her heels. They say that was the witch who cursed the master and made Kepur blind. He spreads his arms and touches, and gropes, and grabs.
The boy is ready: clean, the hair’s golden and curly, dressed in his sister’s dress and a belt. Well, she put the boy's own coat on top, so neighbors won’t see a thing. She’s afraid of gossips, this cow.
When he’s at the master’s place, there’s no need to be afraid, there are no visitors. He rarely leaves his house, but sometimes, on holidays, people see the lights in his windows and hear laughter. The old women say witches and demons come to see him. But who listens to them, these old women…
“Wash your face, do not sip loudly,” the Stepmother gives more and more advice. The younger girl whispers to his ear.
“Catenalis, how can you not play with me anymore? You promised!”
Catenalis says nothing, he appears withdrawn. He isn’t even allowed to pat his cats before he goes. In the night, the woman took him away and then pushed to the gates. A lanky coachman with a lantern then led the boy into a wooden house.
The house smelled of fresh straw and garlic. A flashlight burned on a wooden table. There is fur on the floor and on the benches. It’s not even scary to stay there! Somehow cozy. His straw mattress is new and crispy, the blanket is clean. Here it is, a new house where you feel no cold, no hunger, and no fists beating you.
You know, it’s always hard to sleep at a new place. The boy sneaks outside, closes the door and…
It’s warm! But the fog creeps out of nowhere, and the sky is clear, and the moon is bright and pot-bellied.
He notices a goat in the cornfield. Waist-deep in the corn, standing on his two feet, a black goat in a coat!
Catenalis liked that one. He felt it with his heart, that the Goat is much kinder than the “leech” coachman whom he followed on the way here.
Meanwhile, the Goat broke off an ear of dry corn and hides in his bosom. Crack. Another one. Crack. And hides. And one more.
He doesn’t even look at the boy. Doesn’t blink, the eyes are golden, pupils like a cleft.
Catenalis approaches him. Take an ear of corn, gives it to the Goat. The Goat picks it with a smile - can you imagine a goat smiling? - and disappears in the fog, as if there was no one.
Limited deal, the set is on until 02/10 12 p.m. Moscow Time..
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