Disclaimer—This is so not mine, and I'm not making a single dime. Wow, I almost rhymed that one, didn't I…?
Author's Note—I now have the full-length novel saved into my links as an e-book. For that reason, I went back and edited all four of my previous poems from 'Don't' to 'Surprise Visit', because some sentences needed to be mended and one word wasn't put into the right context. Hopefully all four of them will look a bit smoother now. And while we're on the subject of Nadsat vocabulary homework…I chose the word 'Nachinat' for this title on purpose, because it translates to 'Beginning' and I kinda like to think that Greg's appearance on the ACO scene (in the literary version) was the beginning of a whole lot of good stuff for Pete. I have no idea where I'm gonna go after this one, but until I can make up my mind, I hope this at least sets the groundwork for some other things to come later.
P.S. John and Matthew are OMC's, while Greg is final-chapter-canon. Look for Chapter 21 online, and you'll see what I mean. Heck, you can even PM me for the e-book link if you like, so that you'll know the joy of knowing how the original novel goes. Oh, and I pretty much stopped using Nadsat words at the end to show that Pete's mind is growing out of using them. How's that for hinting at canon?
P.P.S. Come out, come out, wherever you are. You guys don't expect me to continue in this fandom on my own, do you? ;) I know folks are reading, so…howzabout we write stuff together as well?
Nachinat
I wake up in some starry armchair,
And those other droogs are waiting there.
Their glazzies hidden by otchkies black,
I think they're ready to attack.
I try to pull myself out of it
And maybe stand up a little bit,
But some veshch about it weighs me down,
Like it wants to drag me into the ground.
I reach for my nozh, but it's not there
I'm skvatting at plain, empty air.
Instead, it winks from atop an old desk,
And my head still stings of synthemesc.
Don't you try to hold me down, you freaks
Respect me, for I'm by no means weak.
I push all three away and stand up,
I go for my nozh, but my head spins.
I don't know if they'll end my jeezny,
Or just what danger I'm drowning in.
The third vecks comes over to catch me,
Or is he forcing me to be still?
Don't make me walk back there or sit down,
There's no way I'll let you break my will.
I'll drat you here and now, you bratchny
And I'll take both your droogs down as well,
One minoota, and I'll have my nozh,
One shive, and I'll send you three to hell—
I'm silenced before there's time to think,
The first vecks gives me a cool, quick drink.
Just one peet, and then he moves aside
A path of attack has opened wide.
The second vecks holds my nozh up high,
Off comes the shade, and I see his eyes.
He looks like the biggest of the three,
And now he's ready to tolchock me.
Do I fight for water from the first,
Or let that second vecks do his worst?
At first I think that I want to fight,
If only to make it through the night.
But when I try to stand up again,
My nogas sting with like the worst pain.
'One minoota,' I tell Mr. Two,
'And then I'll get up and deal with you.'
'Well now, lad,' Two answers, 'Well and good,
But down there, I see some of your blood.'
And what do you know, a tiny stream
Of red red krovvy flows on the floor.
I blink hard, not knowing if I dream
Or if I'm not in the land no more.
I look back at the men, wondering
If all four of us see the same thing.
Mr. One just mumbles and nods his head:
"John, please carry him up to the bed."
All at once, I'm helped into the air
And carried off to a white room, where
Big John-Two gets me onto a seat
And then uncovers my bleeding feet.
Why did I shive myself up so wrong?
I must have been walking far too long.
Mr. Three gets water from the sink,
Then goes to cheest and wrap all my cuts.
When he's done, Mr. One lifts my drink
As though asking if I'll peet it up.
Old John-Two gestures back at the door
Then smots at me when he turns around.
I don't think he wants me here no more,
He wants me to get off of these grounds.
Mr. One flashes water again,
Light glints off of that old shiny tass.
My dry gorlo makes me soon give in,
Should I peet before they let me pass?
'Drink,' he says, so I do as I'm told;
The water tastes so sladky and cold.
My head aches too much for me to think,
All I can do is sit there and drink.
Five seconds, and half that water's gone,
I make no zvook and continue on.
Ten seconds, and then I'm nearly done,
I never wanted to hurt no one.
Do I know if they'll beat me to death?
Is this where I'll breathe my final breath?
Fifteen seconds, and I start to cry.
I never wished to watch Georgie die.
The water is gone, and I'm peeting air
It smots so wrong, but I just don't care.
I don't care if I make them all smeck
And make them think I'm a gloopy vecks.
They can just kill me now, if they like
I won't drat when it's their time to strike.
I sit still and go on boohoohooing
Because I know that it's all my doing.
If I'd just stayed quiet from the start,
My gang would have never split apart.
Mr. One suddenly dries my eyes,
And then he gives me a big surprise
By taking off those old otchkies black
And then smiling like he won't attack.
Mr. Three then goes and does the same,
They're all smiles and like playing a game.
It's almost like there's nothing to fear,
And that I'm almost like welcome here.
Could I possibly be safe again,
Or are they just grinning at my pain?
It's here that Mr. One lifts his voice,
He invites me to climb into bed.
I whimper as he gives me the choice
On whether to leave or rest my head.
How long have I goolied these old streets?
What was I hoping to find out here?
No matter how much I wish they would,
I know that they'll never reappear.
That doesn't make it any less hard.
For so long, I've been living a lie.
If I'd gone on hiding in the shadows,
Would I have been the next one to die?
I shouldn't dirty up this nice bed,
Not when they've let me come in and stay.
I wouldn't want to turn the sheets red,
I just want to spat this night away.
And so I take off my old black hat,
My over-shirt falls onto the floor.
I fold up my platties nice and flat,
I won't be needing those things no more.
Now I won't stain the whites with my blood,
And that thought makes me feel kind of good.
I smot back at the droogs once again,
And I wonder if they're my new friends.
I feel better thanks to this new game,
But I have to ask if they have names.
Mr. Three who bandaged up my legs
Points to Mr. One and calls him Greg.
When I look back at Mr. John-Two,
He says Mr. Three is called Matthew.
Hi there, Greg, if I might be so bold
Could I stay here, safe out of the cold?
These blankets feel oh so nice and warm
Perfect for sleep after winter storms.
Hi there, John, am I in the right place?
Are you here to help me wash my face?
Are my bandaged feet wrapped good and tight?
Will this mask help me sleep through the night?
Oh, Matthew, are the lights getting low?
Am I tired, or just talking too slow?
Have I walked for far too long today,
Or is there singing from far away?
I feel so safe inside this tower,
My eyes close, and I sleep for twelve hours.