The train station was half empty. Only a few men with long jackets and a few elder and younger women with stylish dresses and coats passed around in a hurry around the railway. The benches ware empty , the inside of the station was too. Out side of the big building , where the train rails ware , blew chilled air. There ware two or three out of order trains that once drove supplies to the front during the great war. rday they ware sat still. The metal parts of their wagons ware rusty and the wood had started to mold. Only one of the three train railways was in order and was currently in use. The old military trains took over the other two. Around the rusty trains grew weeds and other tall and yellow-brown plants of the such. Snowy fields took the distance with a few bushes here and there. It was as if the train station was in the middle of nothing.
There ware wooden benches out side of the station building also. No one was crazy enough to sit out side on such a cold weather. The little people that ware hurrying around the station still and waiting for their trains ware inside the station , drinking hot tae or coffee from the little shop inside the building. One distant bench out side however was occupied. A somewhat short blond boy sat down on it , snoring lightly. The boy's dark green cap fell over his eyes slightly as his head hang loosely down , his blond , shoulder length , hair fell down the boy's neck and pale cheeks. The boy had tucked his gloved hands in the deep pockets of his long dark coat , the collar of which the boy had lifted up so he could keep wormer. A brown backpack sat in the boy's feet. It wasn't big since the boy had almost nothing to carry. He had been one of the first to come to the station and he had been waiting for his train almost all day. He had preferred to stay out side so he wouldn't have to deal with unneeded company though every now and then a officer would come to him and demand his documents for a check up. Gladly the boy had papers to show along with a passport. He had faked them back in Bialystok and thank god he knew a guy who could do him that little favor without much money. The boy had taken a train from there as quick as he could , changing trains on the 'border' and after getting to the closest to Grodno town he had to walk to said town by foot. In Grodno he had to get on a train to Simferopol and from there to Moscow , from there to Sankt Peterburg and from there to his desired destination , Novgorod.
The boy honestly did not know what he would do there but he believed that it was better than being shipped to Siberia with his other comrades from the front. No body was ready for a war with Russia. Perhaps that was why it was such a confusion on the battle field the first days of war. A confusion that didn't last long because in the matter of days the red army was already in Bialystok and on their way to Warsaw. Most of the soldiers that fought near the border and farther away from it ware captured and send in solitary camps in the Soviet Union , some of them how ever fled and with the help of faked documents and passports , got to Russia or Czechoslovakia. It wasn't easy for those who fled , it wasn't easy for this boy too. When the war started on the west front he had told him self – 'Feliks , you gotta fight or something-' – and that's how he got messed up in the war. He was an unmistakable patriot and loved the homeland but he valued his life too. He was sure that the homeland won't die that easy but he was equally sure that he could die pretty easily if he continued to run around the trenches. And there he was. Starting a new life away from the homeland. He wished that his conquered home would stay there till the end of the war so he wouldn't have to live in Russia forever. He hoped so at least.
Cold wind blew again making the tall weeds around the station building rustle. The wind passed through the blond boy , making his cap shift a bit and blowing strings of soft blond hair over his cheeks. The boy groaned and lifted his hand up to brush off his hair from his face. He opened his glassy green eyes and blinked once or twice , rubbing the sleep out of them with his hand. The blond boy stretched and looked around seeing no train. He sighted and reached for his bag , pulling it on his knees and opening it. The boy shuffled in his bag for a bit and pulled out a small pocket watch. He was in a hurry when he was packing his things since he feared that the trains might get stopped. They did but at least he wasn't there any more. He had packet some clothes with him , some money and stuff he could sell in Russia , he had also grabbed the small pocket watch to keep in touch wit the time though he was going to sell it too once in Moscow. The boy opened the small silver watch to check the time – half past five. He took out the train ticket from his pocket to see when his train came. Half past six. The boy sighted stuffed the watch back in his backpack and the train ticket back in his pocket. He was worried that the trains might be stopped but there was no obvious reason for such a thing there for the boy had to wait another hour. He threw the bag back on the ground next to his feet and crossed his hands over his chest , tucking back in his coat.
He wasn't sleepy anymore , he couldn't fall asleep anyway. Thoughts about what he was going to do occupied his mind. He knew no Russian though he was sure he would catch up quickly. He couldn't read Cyrillic and here he was surrounded by it. He could barely read the writing on his train ticket! He couldn't let anyone know he was Polish , that meant a Gulag camp in Siberia for him. What was he going to do in Novgorod? What was he going to work there? How was he going to earn money for a living? Where was he going to stay? Thoughts of the such raced through the young boy's mind as his green eyes scanned the snow covered field.
He was so concentrated with the white field and the military trains that stood on the other two train rails that he didn't hear the foot steps that came his way. "Dokumenti!" , a booming , strong and stoic voice came to the boy's ears and he quickly looked to his left to see a stoic Russian male in a border officer uniform. The officer , of course , spoke in Russian but the blond boy had been hearing that word for a whole week so he knew what the officer wanted. He nodded and started to shuffle in his pocket for his documents. He quickly found the small black booklet and gave it to the waiting officer. The young Russian took it and looked through it. The blond boy knitted his eyebrows , feeling uncomfortable.
"Feliks?Feliks Simtsov?" , the officer asked , looking at Feliks and raising a brow , "From West Belarus?" , again came a question in Russian but Feliks didn't hesitate to nod. On documents his name was Feliks ( which was his original name ) Simtsov , from West Belarus , nineteen years old. The officer grunted something and returned the documents to Feliks. "There are a lot of Poles in that part of Belarus. But that will change soon." , the officer chuckled but Feliks didn't understand what was there to chuckle for , he just kept his eyes on the officer. "Where to?" the said officer asked again , looking at Feliks , "Um…ah…Simferopol?..." Feliks half questioned him self as he replayed to the , probably misunderstood , question , in broken Russian. The officer nodded and even reached for his cigars , a gesture which got Feliks a bit buzzed. If this officer started a conversation , how would Feliks keep up with it? Thank god an other officer came out from the building just as the one next to Feliks was about to lit his cigar.
"Lobanov!Idi siuda!" the officer that had just came out of the building yelled at the younger officer next to Feliks.
"Coming Sashka!" the younger yelled back and tucked the already taken out cigar behind his ear , walking off without even waving bye to Feliks. The young Pole puffed out his cheek at that and crossed his arms. A good bye would have been nice after all , "Stupid Russkis…" , Feliks mumbled to him self in his oh so dear Polish and looked at the field again , leaning back on the bench and crossing his hands.
In honesty , Feliks was Feliks Lukasiewicz , born in Warsaw , nineteen years old. It pained him to think that people would recognize him as Feliks Simtsov from Belarus. But what could he do when the times ware such. Feliks could only hope that the war will end and he would be able to go back home , to the little street in Warsaw , and again be recognized as Feliks Lukasiewicz. Feliks that worked in the small grocery store of mister Czmielewski and always slacked off , Feliks that gave the old women from his building advices on what to wear and how to decorate their homes , Feliks that was the lazy , cheerful and somewhat egoistic blond boy from the third floor , that Feliks was him not the made up Feliks Simtsov that was supposed to be a Belarusian Communist!-
Feliks shook his head furiously , trying to get rid of the thoughts that filled his mind. He was again going to be recognized as that Feliks , he just had to wait , of course he wasn't good at that but it was just a matter of time. At least he hoped so.
The blond boy didn't notice how time flew by. He dozed off again but gladly woke up a good ten minutes before his train came. The loud booming sound of the rails clacking under its weight and the whistle that signaled its arrival took over the cold air. The people from inside the building came up on the platform out side the station and Feliks stood up , taking his bag. The train slowly came to a stop and the doors opened. The people started to get on , so did Feliks. The Pole took out his ticket to see where he was supposed to sit , slowly making his way down the corridor of the train wagon. He had bought a normal , one way ticket , he didn't care for classes. Normally he did but not now when he had no money to effort a ticket for a better seat. He ended up in a wagon in the end of the train which was almost empty , a good thing for him. He sat down on the uncomfortable seat in the far end of the wagon , putting his backpack on the seat beside him. Feliks shifted a bit in his seat and took off his green cap , leaning back on the seat after words. While waiting for the train to start Feliks looked out of the small , unclean window. He begged a final farewell to the train station building of Grodno , the small bench on which he had sat and to the old military trains ( he had to look on his left to see them ) that ware probably unused since the great war. He begged a farewell to Feliks Lukasiewicz too. It was as if this small stay in Grodno had been the end of his Polish citizenship. This small train station had become a grave for Feliks Lukasiewicz. The Feliks that worked in the small grocery store of mister Czmielewski and always slacked off , the Feliks that gave the old women from his building advices on what to wear and how to decorate their homes , the Feliks that was the lazy , cheerful and somewhat egoistic blond boy from the third floor.
The loud whistle was again heard and the train started to move. The last thing that Feliks Lukasiewicz saw from the Grodno train station was the small bench on which he had sat. He didn't know if it was his mind playing tricks or the fact that he had had a hard day but he could have swore that he saw him self on that bench. The cheerfully grinning Feliks that was leaning back on the bench with his legs crossed and a brown cap atop his blond hair , light brown military jacket with a high black collar and big buttons and breast pockets with a black belt around the waist over his thin upper frame with the same colored military pants and black boots. The old Feliks , Lukasiewicz.
-to be continued … -
Okay! So this is the first time I write here , hope this is good , there might be some typos but I hope not much. I'm kinds proud how this turned out , please R&R!
Dokmenti - documents ; during communism in the USSR people had to walk around with their documents no matter where they ware , they had to show them to every officer that wanted to see them and that meant - give your documents to every guy in a uniform you see in the street.
Idi siuda - Come or come here
Grodno is a town near the Polish-Russian border in Russia!The other cities mentioned are all Russian except Warsaw and Bialystok.