Snow Maiden on call for the night. Celebrate the New Year with the Snow Maiden on call
Scenario of Father Frost and Snow Maiden (on call)
Father Frost comes into the house upon prior summons from the parents:
-Hello! Hello! It took me a long time to get to you! It's good that it's freezing outside. With a fair winter wind and low snow clouds, the road will still be shorter.
Snow Maiden:
– Did we come with grandpa correctly? The baby lives here, what awaits us?
Father Frost:
-Yes, here he is! Nice boy (girl)! When we found out that you wanted to see us, we hurried on the road. First, we rode on magical reindeer across the snow-covered ice, then we flew on a snow cloud over the tundra, then three frisky horses helped us get to the city. And here there are cars all around, noise. But this is only to our advantage. Otherwise, with gifts and congratulations, there would not be enough strength to reach all the children.
Snow Maiden:
-Let's get acquainted. Do you recognize us? Who are we? Well done! Do you remember Grandfather Frost and Snow Maiden? And what is your name?
Father Frost:
-Good name! I see you have grown over the year. You're not bored, I hope? What do you like to do? What business do you like?
Snow Maiden:
- These are the good classes you chose for yourself! Do you know any New Year's poems? Grandfather Frost really loves poems about the New Year. If someone tells him a poem, he will immediately receive a gift from him. I hope you will make your grandfather happy too.
(According to the script, the child recites a poem; if he forgot, it’s okay, let him guess the riddles).
Father Frost:
-What a great guy! I immediately got into a New Year's mood! But you must pass one more test. The Snow Maiden will ask you riddles, and you will find the correct answer.
Snow Maiden:
-There's a snowstorm blowing outside the window,
And there’s a cat lying on the stove.
We will decorate the Christmas tree with a friend,
It will be soon... (new year).
It's hot and warm in summer,
The sun looks out the window.
And in winter, scaring a friend,
There will be a whirl in the yard... (blizzard).
New Year's holiday is coming soon,
The Christmas tree was brought from the forest.
We will decorate it brightly,
And we’ll give everyone… (gifts).
Father Frost:
-Well done! I made my grandfather happy! Do you have a New Year tree in your house? Show me please!
Snow Maiden:
-What a beautiful girl! Did you help dress her up? Here's another Christmas tree toy for you. Hang it on your Christmas tree, it's magical. If you need help on New Year's Day, whisper your request to her and then at night, in your dreams, Santa Claus's friends will come to you and tell you what to do.
Father Frost:
“I’ve already rested, but my legs are numb.” Let's dance a festive dance together. Don't be afraid, it's very simple, remember the movements.
The Snow Maiden takes the boy (girl) by the hand and dances.
Our legs carry us in circles,
Now we will hide from the blizzard (squats).
They got up and ran quickly,
They galloped briskly with the hare.
They stretched, swung,
We smiled at the squirrels.
They collected cones from the Christmas tree,
And they distributed them to friends.
One sat down, two sat down,
We flew into the clouds.
Soon it will be New Year,
Where are you magic cat?
Looked under the table
Turned the closet upside down.
Maybe he became invisible?
An enchanted picture?
Let Santa Claus cast his spell,
The cold will blow on us.
Let's draw a cat
And we'll hang it here.
At night he himself will come to life,
Let's celebrate the New Year together!
Father Frost:
-Ugh, tired! Well, you’re so good at running and jumping! Tired too? No? Do you still have the strength to move in for the holiday?
Snow Maiden:
-We met a good boy. Give him a gift quickly from Santa Claus! Yes, choose something special!
Father Frost:
-I have one great toy! Just right for you! Look, take care of her, she will help you not to get bored and always be cheerful. Here she is! Please accept a gift from Father Frost and the Snow Maiden.
Snow Maiden:
-Santa Claus! I hear other children calling us. We need to hurry up to have time to congratulate everyone.
Father Frost:
-Bye-bye! We'll meet again more than once. The main thing is to wait for me and the Snow Maiden, and we will always come! This is followed by congratulations from Father Frost and Snow Maiden.
Order a script for Father Frost and Snow Maiden at home
If this script does not suit you, then we offer the service: “writing a unique custom script.” We will take into account all your wishes.
This story was told to me by a journalist I knew from Tver, who was sent to another city by the editors of his publication on New Year’s Eve.
It just so happened that he celebrated New Year’s Eve alone in a hotel room in an unfamiliar city. To make things less sad, he took with him a bottle of expensive whiskey, given to him by the editor before leaving, as compensation for working on holidays.
On December 31, a couple of hours before the New Year, he ordered a snack to his room. I sent the material approved by the customer to the editor’s email, congratulated friends and family over the phone, and was about to drink to the past year while listening to pop music on TV, when suddenly there was a knock on the door of the room.
On the threshold stood a tall blonde dressed as a sexy Snow Maiden: in a white fur coat, a blue mink hat with sparkles and white over-the-knee boots with huge heels.
The man was confused. His first thought was a joke. And then a bunch of questions suddenly popped up in a bouquet in my still sober head: “What is this? Who is she? For what?". In an unfamiliar city, he had no acquaintances. He didn’t know the person who ordered the article so closely that he would be so friendly with his companion on a festive night. Expecting something unpleasant and strange, the friend tensed, and meanwhile the girl, looking him up and down with an appraising look, asked: “Well, do you like me? If so, tell your friend thank you! Are we going to drink or what?”
While the journalist was coming to his senses, stunned by the unexpected visit of the Snow Maiden and trying to understand who this friend was, she casually threw her outerwear onto a chair and began combing her long hair in front of the mirror in a skirt that barely covered her buttocks.
Going over the options in his head, the journalist with a stupid expression on his face tried to joke and find out where the Snow Maiden was from. The girl did not explain anything, and he, not having guessed who sent the “gift,” thought that miracles still happen on New Year’s Eve, and then invited the guest to an impromptu festive table.
Stretching out her long naked legs in Louboutins, the Snow Maiden sat on an armchair and sipped whiskey from a glass. While we were “seeing off” the Old Year, it turned out that the girl’s name was Olya and she was studying medicine. Since my colleague from Tver had many medical acquaintances and friends, and the person who ordered the material was connected with medicine, he thought that the New Year’s surprise was definitely from the field of medicine. After talking to the guest, the journalist realized that the girl was not only young and beautiful, but also smart, and made several belated compliments not only about her fabulous appearance and resemblance to the Snow Maiden, but also about the miracles of the New Year.
Olya’s reaction to the awkward flirtation of the correspondent from Tver was peculiar. Jumping up from her chair, she laughed and did something that made her interlocutor’s jaw drop: “Are you saying you look like the Snow Maiden? And like this?". At that moment she tore off her short skirt and was left without anything.
The seasoned journalist was still confused and thought that the girl was out of her mind. He jumped up, grabbed the student’s skirt from the floor and tried to put this narrow piece of fabric on her, saying that this was some kind of mistake. The skirt did not fit her figure, and in front of her eyes, no matter how hard her colleague tried not to look, some part of her naked body always appeared.
“Sister, you apparently have the wrong door,” the reporter said.
From such actions of a man to spontaneously expose himself, the beauty felt out of place and began to find out what kind of hotel and what room, and then she hurriedly got dressed and ran down the corridor on stilt heels with an obscene tirade, from which my fellow author understood, that the medical worker Olechka is not a New Year’s miracle at all, but an individual prostitute and two hundred bucks were paid for her in another room. That the private taxi driver is a goat, since he got the address wrong, and the false client (journalist) is no better...
It’s sad and funny, but the incident turned out to be extraordinary and memorable. At the newspaper editorial office, when a colleague returned from a business trip and told him that a “miracle” had happened to him on New Year’s Eve, they laughed until they cried and for a long time reminded him that he lived to see gray hair, and still believes in miracles and fairy tales.
Came out on paper
“Breathe deeply,” I ordered myself, nervously stroking the icy satin of my cape. The situation is a little worse than “sucks”, but there’s really nowhere to go.
“29 years old, single,” my mother’s diagnosis repeated to herself like a mantra. It’s shameful, humiliating, and what’s more - “a beautiful girl, but her brains and tongue would be locked up in a box,” my father liked to repeat. Otherwise I’ll be alone my whole life, and I wouldn’t want that.
Good evening! - the owner rejoiced, throwing the door wide open.
Happy New Year,” I diligently practiced my smile in front of the mirror, so that it looked completely Hollywood-like, “Have you called the Snow Maiden?”
The gaze of the owner, a tall, thin male with the engraving “narcissistic idiot” on his forehead, smoothly swooped down: from bright shiny lips, capturing the neckline on the verge of decency, to the shamelessly freezing knees in nylon stockings. Apparently, he liked what he saw. I don't really care. But the image of my mother wailing over my girlhood pushed me in the back like an invisible spear.
Volodya, who's there?
Ooh! A blonde woman in her early 20s in a chic lace outfit did not fit into our plans. I bit my lip to keep from exploding in either frustration or joy.
Present! - Volodya suddenly exclaimed and grabbed me in his arms. The touch of his hands, weak and bony, was unpleasant. One to zero in favor of the fact that the idea was not very good.
Well, girls, are we going?
An attempt at resistance: a voyage in an unknown direction with unfamiliar faces is the height of idiocy. Run! Police! Guard!
“Brains in a box,” the mother’s voice rustled through the dry leaves. Since midnight of her lectures on New Year’s Eve...
Let’s go,” I smiled sweetly.
Good girl! - Volodya furtively slapped me on the ass. I wonder if he knows that a stiletto heel can crush bone? He probably didn't think about it. And I introduced it. The face blossomed with a genuine smile.
The taxi waiting at the entrance sped us away from the lights of the high-rise buildings. All the way, I considered whether I would have enough money for the return trip if I had to run, and wondered how I could stealthily snatch a business card from the taxi driver. However, when the car stopped at a small two-story cottage, drowned in beads of garlands, my jaw dropped in admiration, and I forgot about everything.
Even more than last year,” Volodya chuckled.
The blonde shrugged her shoulders arrogantly, demonstrating boredom, and I realized how many of my salaries were burning in this New Year’s orchestra of children’s enthusiasm, and I became sad.
After half a minute, there were no thoughts left in my head: they dissolved in a stream of various sounds - people’s voices, barking dogs, the noise of exploding firecrackers. I rolled from hand to hand, feeling like a bottle of champagne from which everyone tried to take a sip.
Women in evening dresses looked with anger, men - with a malicious twinkle in their eyes, and it suddenly began to dawn on me what situation I was in - with false eyelashes, in a Snow Maiden costume who had come on call. The color rushed to my face, my legs gave way...
Stand! - the hand that grabbed me around the waist was strong and hairy, like a bear’s. The “bear” himself turned out to be a short, sturdy man with an unattractive wide face, strewn with freckles, like homemade pie crumbs. The eyes bore right through me.
Step, a gift for you,” came from somewhere in the crowd.
Like this. “The Bear,” it turns out, is the owner of the house, the owner of flaming beads, the length of my five years’ earnings. “About 35–40 years old. The character is quarrelsome, nasty. Not married".
Meanwhile, his hand, hot and impudent, did not want to let me go, and I stepped on his foot.
Sorry,” I squeezed out, hiding a laugh.
He suddenly winked, flicked me on the nose and disappeared somewhere. And thank God! Where should I disappear to? The taxi left. Don't really freeze outside on New Year's Eve! The idea of sneaking into a secluded corner somewhere and quietly sneaking away in the morning warmed my soul.
I quickly mixed with the crowd that was migrating into the house, which resembled an aquarium filled with human fish. Glasses clinked, balloons burst, sandwiches with red and black caviar disappeared and appeared on the dishes. Unfamiliar masked faces laughed, and I thought that in the dense forest I wouldn’t be so lonely...
Suddenly, someone clinked a bottle against my empty glass. Stepan. Right here. He didn't try to hug me anymore. A cunning and calculating type. From such people, not only to the other end of the street, but into a sewer manhole under the pavement. Although there will be enough there.
What is this serious? - asked the hero of a novel that is not mine, - Don’t like it?
I like it,” I lied, looking around the room, “Very much...
The head was feverishly wondering what to pay a compliment to. Everything was pretentious and pompous, except that the wallpaper was not made of silk, when suddenly, in the midst of the triumph of bad taste, I saw HER.
God, what! - I involuntarily burst out.
The painting hanging over the makeshift fireplace was striking in its inappropriateness, because it looked like a real masterpiece. A girl in rich, but dirty and torn clothes, with a tangled braid, but a noble posture, and with some kind of despair in her eyes. The artist was clearly in love with his model, or was experiencing a significant creative surge, but the feelings conveyed in the canvas pierced through.
Do you know who this is? - Stepan asked proudly and, almost bursting with self-satisfaction, launched into an unexpectedly long speech.
A real princess. Without a crown, really. But I was very lucky: I found this painting the winter before last in France, from a junk dealer. He was just closing his shop because there was only junk there. And this picture is the most valuable. The old man even leaked a book about it: I had to read it on the plane.
And what is the book about? - I yawned.
Oh, this princess was executed on charges of witchcraft. She cursed her father, causing him to die in agony.
Why did you curse me? - family curses for some reason always arouse interest.
The king ordered the execution of her lover, from whom the princess was expecting a child. He planned to marry her to a prince from a neighboring state. As a result, the princess cursed her father, William the Glorious, and when he died, William Crooked-Eyed, his twin brother, ascended the throne. He was so upset by the death of his brother that he ordered the execution of his niece, as well as all the doctors who could not save William’s life. And soon after this, war broke out: the neighboring state was the first to fall, and for the rest of his life, William fought, seizing the lands of his neighbors.
Why was he called Krivookim?
Even in childhood, their father ordered one of the brothers to have his face cut open and castrated, so that the king would be alone and the other would not try to plot his intrigues.
“It’s cruel,” I shuddered, imagining how a “loving” father cripples the chubby children’s cheeks with his own hands.
And then,” Stepan rejoiced, not noticing the expression on my face, “Historians wrote that William the Glorious poisoned his father to take the throne, and when 20 years later his own son tried to overthrow him, he ripped open the unfortunate belly. And Wilhelm, whom everyone considered a good-natured man, turned out to be worse than his brother. There were rumors that he often took young maids and squires to stay with him at night, and in the morning he fed their bodies to dogs. I couldn’t, poor fellow, so I pulled away little by little.
Stepan smiled carnivorously, and I almost felt sick. No, to tell a girl a beautiful story - just all sorts of abomination.
I silently sipped my spent champagne while Stepan carefully searched “all my cracks” with his eyes, and the best thing that happened in the next few minutes was the chiming of the chimes and the stupefying screech of “Happy New Year!”
The owner of the house rushed off to set off fireworks, and I lightly touched the frame with my glass.
Happy New Year, princess!
When the girl in the picture blinked, I realized that it was time to look for a secluded corner and fall asleep.
But, apparently, on this very night, everyone’s plans came true except me. As soon as I wandered into a quiet room, where there was a quite decent sofa, covered with a nice checkered blanket, Stepan burst in after me, smelling of gunpowder and fumes.
Finally alone! - He exhaled noisily, unbuttoning his shirt. His appearance was not good: his eyes were red, saliva bubbled disgustingly at the corners of his lips.
Fuck you! - I grabbed the blanket and defiantly lay down on the sofa.
Don't like me at all?
Do you want me to give you a princess? It is very dear to me, and I will give it to you.
The prospect was tempting, but the price in the form of a freckled, shiny muzzle hanging over my precious body was painful.
“I don’t want to,” I muttered and turned away.
Well, I went to ***.
“The gentleman,” in a fit of nobility, pulled the pillow out from under my head and sat down on the rug by the sofa, and very soon I heard a truly bear-like snoring.
“Thank God,” I crossed myself, falling asleep. Tomorrow I will try to forget this shame.
* * *
I woke up to someone painfully slapping my cheeks.
Go away, you bastard.
Wake up.
Stepan sat next to him, straight as a string and pale as a sheet. Not a trace remained of the former arrogance and complacency.
Do you remember how we are?
“Nothing like that happened,” I flushed, and my heart skipped a beat: what if!
“Yes, I’m talking about serious things,” Stepan barked, jumping to his feet. It was cool in the room, and he, wearing an unbuttoned shirt and thin jeans, without socks, was covered in pimples. I shamelessly wrapped myself in a warm blanket.
Where are we? - I asked lazily, refusing to wake up.
Are you asking me?
Good spirits! “They finally heard me,” a ringing girlish voice echoed through the walls of our shelter, and then I almost had a blow: from somewhere out of the darkness a vision was approaching us in a dress to the toes and a burning candle in her hand.
I unconsciously crawled towards Stepan and grabbed his knees. He put his meaty hand on my head and stroked my hair almost tenderly.
Don't be afraid, it's just...
He never managed to finish the sentence. I, too, fell into a stupor when I recognized the princess from the painting in the mysterious stranger. The same face, the same dress, only clean and tidy. The same universal sadness in the eyes.
Did you smoke something? - I asked Stepan in a whisper, looking up at him. He pursed his lips and shook his head. Maybe I forgot?
Meanwhile, the princess approached them at arm's length and seemed so real that she broke out in a sweat. I saw how her nostrils flared, how the tiny vein under her eye pulsated, how her small girlish breast heaved.
The vision placed the candle on a small wooden table and knelt down next to us.
“My name is Isabella,” she smiled sadly, “You can’t even imagine how glad I am to see you.” I prayed so many nights for the Lord to send me help. He heard me.
“I don’t understand anything,” Stepan whispered.
Shut up,” I advised and extended my hands to Isabella. For some reason they passed through her like a shadow.
“You are ghosts,” the princess exclaimed almost joyfully, “You can walk through walls.” And you must help me.
How? - I was surprised. The position of the ghost, even in a dream, seemed unpleasant to me. And helping the girl from the picture... How? How?
“I’m accused of witchcraft,” Isabella cried, “And I don’t even know a single spell.” And I’ve hardly seen my father all my life, he’s always busy with royal affairs, I don’t need to curse him!
Didn't he execute your lover?
Which one? - Isabella grabbed her head quite realistically, - I am pure before the Lord and before my future husband. And Prince Sebastian is very dear to me. We are supposed to have a wedding next summer.
And no suitor from the local nobles?
The girl batted her eyelashes in surprise, and I was touched: well, a child is a child. What lovers - she is barely 14. And such a sincere naive look.
Find out the truth! You are spirits, everything is under your control - locked animals, secret conversations. I must find out the truth and tell it to my uncle. He's so kind. I was just very upset about my father's death.
Wow, “kind”, I thought. If only you knew, baby, the story...
Let’s go,” the “knight’s” hand pulled me by the elbow, “Let’s help the girl.”
Thank you, good spirits!
* * *
I left, carried away by Stepan who knows where, and before my eyes stood a beautiful, trusting face with little eyes swollen from tears. I was ready to burst into tears myself.
In a fit of sentimentality, I didn’t even notice how Stepan dragged me through the wall: he was stunned himself. In the corridor lined with stone slabs, he let me go and unexpectedly pinched me painfully.
You idiot,” I gladly slapped him in the face.
It hurts,” he whispered, looking at me with round eyes like an owl’s. “It doesn’t hurt in a dream.”
What if you dream that it hurts? - I suggested.
“I don’t know,” Stepan admitted, “I’ve never gotten into trouble like that.” In the deep Middle Ages, in the company of a whore.
Freak,” I angrily kicked him in the shoulder. Stepan barely moved: either I had weakened, or I was really strong. But I didn’t care: angry and offended to the core, I no longer wanted to see this pockmarked goat.
Where? - he shouted after me. I felt his hateful sniffling behind me, “And why are you so touchy?”
Don’t interfere,” I snapped, “If we ended up in this stupid dream, then let me enjoy it.”
What's the pleasure?
When will I be able to walk through walls again?
What should I do?
You can sit here and wait for you to wake up. Better yet, disappear.
I silently walked forward, Stepan barely audibly shuffled behind me. It must be hard to walk barefoot on a stone floor. And it’s not sweet for me in nylon stockings either.
Everything is strange: we pass through walls, objects, bodies, but we feel pain and cold. And it was also warm: every now and then I tripped over rough blocks in the floor, Stepan picked me up and even offered to carry me in his arms. And he was humanly warm...
How long do we still have to go? - he grumbled.
Sorry, I forgot to buy a guidebook,” I said sarcastically.
“You’re a toad,” Stepan sighed, “If only I could wait for one kind word.”
I remained silent, torn by an unexpected surge of feelings, akin to conscience. Only it was not conscience, but stupidity, which I tried to quickly get out of my head. We have a different mission here: to look for a needle in a haystack. And suddenly hay was found.
Living people! - Stepan exclaimed, - Look at the armor! Swords! You can't even buy these in Japan.
We came upon four guards guarding a massive wooden door, richly decorated with some kind of shiny metal. Maybe gold: I’m not a big expert, and they didn’t test it in the Middle Ages.
The guards looked quite respectable, but for some reason their faces were pale. A little distance away stood a wooden bucket. I carefully approached and looked into it. The contents were strange, reminiscent of vomit, and the urge to explore the bucket quickly dried up.
Who do you think is here? - I asked in a whisper, returning to Stepan.
Let's go find out.
We held hands and stepped through the wall into the room that turned out to be the king's bedroom. Or, more accurately, a tomb.
The body of the deceased, dressed in armor, a helmet with a visor, lay on a huge bed. Nearby on the floor, another half-dead body was writhing, dressed in burlap and a mask with a long bird’s beak. Aesculapius.
What's wrong with him? - Stepan asked timidly, backing away.
Don't know. Probably grief. After all, he won’t be executed today or tomorrow.
What if he is contagious?
You cannot get infected in your sleep.
The arguments seemed convincing to Stepan, and he cheerfully circled around the king’s body, examining the armor with interest.
Listen, what if I open my visor? Look at the living king?
Dead king.
One crap: the real corpse of the king, and not the picture in the textbook.
Undress him, and the guy is like a guy,” I chuckled, “But it’s strange that they see him like that, in all his equipment, with the visor down.” Did you pick it up?
Where there! - Stepan muttered, “I’m like a laser - through and through.”
The body on the floor suddenly moved, rose to its knees and crawled somewhere into the corner. From there I heard some rather strange sounds. Aesculapius either defecated or vomited, or maybe both.
Let’s get out of here,” Stepan winced.
Wait, we need to carefully examine the body and find out how the murder happened.
Are you a pathologist?
Me neither. What will we learn?
Well, if you are foaming at the mouth, especially bloody, it is clear that the king has been poisoned.
Or he has tuberculosis,” Stepan noted.
What if he was stabbed to death?
Aesculapians would have noticed this.
Maybe it was a tiny wound.
Like sewing in the heart, in the Middle Ages. Maybe a bullet to the forehead?
I should have kept quiet!
“Fool,” Stepan smiled affectionately, and I snorted and turned away. Me too, I found a smart guy. He's right though. We can't examine the dead man's body. Isabella cannot help us because she is under arrest. The others don't see us.
How do you get someone to undress the king? Maybe before burial he will be washed, like we Orthodox? Although no - the dead man is already in full dress, and probably not for the first day. Look, that poor guy is vomiting. And the guard in front of the door tears up. It’s Stepan and I who can’t smell the smell, but the body has probably already begun to decompose!
I quickly looked around the room: the windows were locked, the fire in the fireplace was blazing with all its might. Not the best place for a corpse. Why are the medieval nobility so bad? So mock the body of the king himself! However, no longer a king. The king is dead - long live the king!
Let’s go,” I called Stepan, “Let’s go look for the second king.”
Let's ask him a couple of questions.
“With my eyes,” I explained, and Stepan silently closed his mouth, swallowing the next batch of stupid questions.
I didn’t have to search for long: only three floors. All this time I was thinking in hindsight, kicking myself for not having thought to ask Isabella about the castle, its inhabitants and the approximate location of all the objects of interest to us. As a result, we crossed a lot of rooms, listened to fifty melodies of drunken snoring, in search of the king, whose appearance we could not even approximately describe, except perhaps by the presence of a scar cutting through the eye. Well, also because we could identify him if we caught him wearing a negligee.
Finally, we found a room whose rich decoration seemed worthy of attention. Despite the late hour, candles were burning in the room, and at the table by the fireplace an elderly man with a strange cap haircut was creaking his pen. Must be a monk.
We noticed the second man a little later. He stood at the window, inhaling the invigorating frosty air. He was dressed in some kind of robe made of richly embroidered fabric. His face was hidden by a hood. The figure is massive, I would say formidable. The back is straight - apparently never bent. King... I give my head to be cut off - the king.
The man stood for a long time, without uttering a sound, and I gazed at him, the living king, experiencing something like awe. Stepan kept pulling me somewhere - first by the hand, and then by the hair. I squealed and scratched his palm.
“And therefore,” the king suddenly said, “I command the coronation ceremony to be held after the burial of the body of my beloved brother.” And the execution of all those responsible for his sudden death, namely, my niece, the parricide Isabella.
I noticed how the pen in the monk’s hand trembled. It trembled and continued to flutter across the paper, dancing deadly steps. I almost cried, imagining how the poor innocent girl was being led to the scaffold or to the stake, and I wanted to throw this ruthless king from the third floor. Eh, not enough. These are not our sixteen-story buildings...
In the meantime, the king’s brother will continue to mourn his death,” the king paused slightly, rubbed his face with his hand, then looked at his palm and chuckled, “Bloody tears of brotherly grief.”
The king barely noticeably wiped his hand on his robe and continued his monologue about crime and punishment, while I crept closer and looked under his hood.
Fathers! That was the face! Strong, strong-willed, even a little beautiful, if not for the crimson scar. Both eyes were intact, only the left eyebrow and cheek were crossed by ugly furrows. And for some reason my nose was covered in blood and some kind of mucus. The king was probably ill. That's why there's such a delay with the coronation! The state needs a healthy king.
“Listen, how are you doing?” Stepan called me.
Katya,” I grinned. Me too, I found a gentleman. I might ask him his name tomorrow. When I leave by taxi.
Katyusha, let's get out of here. What else is there to catch?
What about the killer?
Well, how do we find him? You see, this idiot is making plans for how he will reign. He doesn't give a damn about this Isabella.
Why? If we find evidence that she is innocent, the king will enter into an alliance with the monarch next door. And there will be no war, there will be two prosperous kingdoms. And the king will visit and babysit his great-nephews.
Stepan suddenly laughed.
You don't know anything about politics, my girl. Give us mere mortals peace and quiet. And don’t yawn for the king, otherwise a knife will be stuck in his back. And wars are needed to ruin and get rich.
This is just understandable. Only Isabella said that her uncle was a very kind man. Depersonalized since childhood, deprived of power, castrato... People don’t change so suddenly.
Your Isabella is still a child,” Stepan chuckled, “We are good spirits for her, fairies from a fairy tale.” And in fact…
I understood! I understand everything, Styopka! - Out of excitement, I was ready to hang on his neck and strangle him in my arms. Still, my brains are boiling. And I won’t hide them in my box, because Styopka himself is not a fool.
What did you understand?
Let's go, let's look for how to get Isabella out of the castle. There must be a lot of secret passages and exits here. This way we can help her. And nothing else. This is a trap, Styopa. I understood everything: it was the king himself who started everything.
How long will it take to guess,” Stepan smiled broadly.
No, you're thinking wrong. The execution of the Aesculapians - that’s the rub. Here it is, the key to solving the riddle. That unfortunate man in armor was actually killed. Or poisoned. Or maybe he himself died. It doesn't matter. The main thing is that the Aesculapians could tell the truth: it was not the king himself who died, but his brother!
What Brother? - Stepan was surprised, - He seemed to have one brother. Twin.
Right. William. At first I thought that such disregard for the king’s body was a quirk of the times. But then I realized: this was done on purpose. Closed windows, a blazing fireplace in a room with a corpse. So that the body decomposes, and no one can understand anything if suspicions arise.
“It’s easier to bury or burn,” Stepan objected skeptically.
Well, yes. Only after this should you accept the crown, but how can you accept it if everyone sees that the scar is fresh! The king has ichor on his face. This means that he recently inflicted the wound on himself.
But why? Why would the king kill himself and then execute his own daughter!
Do you remember, you told me how the king overthrew his father and then killed his son. What does he need a daughter for? An annoying nuisance. She will marry the prince, and he will stab him in the back and seize the crown. This is where an alliance emerged.
I understand from history that William doesn’t need heirs at all. He’s one of those “after us there’s a flood.” That’s why he became William, so that he could justifiably not have heirs, not wait for his successor to overthrow him, but rather rule and conquer himself.
“Creepy family,” Stepan shuddered, looking somewhere in front of him in confusion, “What are we going to do with the girl?” Shall we tell you?
Necessarily. Let him know where to expect trouble from.
It’s not a pity: the child’s psyche and all that.
Well, I don’t know, I doubted. In some ways he was right. An apple from an apple tree - just give a reason for a shift.
“And I know,” Isabella’s voice rang out right behind me. I turned around, but there was no one there. The voice came from everywhere, right from the walls, ceiling, stone floor. It rang and rolled like a vibrant bell. - I know where there is a way out beyond the walls. And now I know the truth. Thank you…
* * *
I woke up to the sun frolicking in my false eyelashes, and my hand aching shamelessly, stiff in an uncomfortable position. There was something heavy lying on his chest. Stepan's head. Mother of God, I’m wearing absolutely nothing. And on him too! Home, it's time to go home. God, what a shame. Should I call my mother: let her prepare the bath, I’m going to drown myself.
No, well, this is necessary, such a dream! He must have slipped something into the champagne. What scum! I can't see him.
I spun around the room, looking for at least some clothes, and found a cute nightie. My size. And he foresaw this, the bastard.
I jumped out into the living room and was stunned for a second: it was strangely quiet and clean, as if a cow had licked up yesterday’s crowd and tons of New Year’s tinsel with its tongue. I walked through the rooms, but didn’t find a single person sleeping under the Christmas tree, not even a champagne cork.
Katya, where did you get blown up so early? - Stepan, all sleepy and rumpled in only his shorts, shamelessly stretched behind my back.
Thank you for remembering my name,” I hissed, “Bastard!”
What? - His face reflected such sincere bewilderment that I wanted to shoot him in the eye.
You know, I'm not a call girl at all. This is all an idiotic idea of Lyudmila Nikolaevna, Volodya Repin’s mother, who sleeps and sees me as her daughter-in-law! That's her…
Lord, Katya, have you fallen from the oak tree? This was a year ago. You shouldn't drink at all.
How's the year? - I knelt down in confusion in front of the makeshift fireplace, - What about the princess. Lock. So, did I dream all this?
Stepan stretched out on the floor, resting his head on my lap.
No, honey. I didn't dream it. And the next morning we looked for where the painting and my favorite checkered blanket had gone, but found only a frame and a blank canvas. By the way, 2000 euros down the drain. It’s a pity that I lost my princess that winter, but I found this Snow Maiden. Don't you remember anything at all?
I already remember - somewhere among the thick red hair, in which my hand was so habitually buried, a wedding ring flashed like a morning star. And I remembered...
or It's hard to be the Snow Maiden
Timur, my friend, has been “grandfather freezing” for three years now. And he says that he does this not for the sake of money, but to first feel the approach of the main holiday, and then celebrate it several times. That’s how he persuaded me when he offered to work with him as a Snow Maiden on call. Everyone wants a New Year's fairy tale. Among our customers were “serious people” in an expensive club, and the owners of a huge apartment in Krylatskoye, and the head teacher of a regular school in a residential area.
“So,” the highly experienced Timur instructed me. — You need silver eye shadow, raspberry lipstick and blush. And also false eyelashes. You should look not like a real girl, but like a fairy-tale character."
When I tried to put on “fairytale” makeup at home, my sister asked suspiciously: “So, can you leave the house wearing this coloring?”
Timur promised to bring the Snow Maiden costume directly to the first call.
Monomakh's hat
The first was an order for two hours of entertainment for employees of one company in a club at a pre-New Year corporate party. When Timur and I tried to go through the main entrance of the club, explaining that we were Father Frost and the Snow Maiden, the security immediately explained to us that the service personnel enter through the side door. We searched for her for a long time, Timur courageously carried the bundle with our outfits. Finally, we managed to enter, the administrator led us into a large hall, where the festive revelry was already in full swing, and men in unbuttoned shirts without ties were jumping cheerfully in a place free from tables. It was noisy, smoky and dark.
Only now I realized that it was in this hall that I would very soon have to go out in my “fairytale” coloring, in a brocade costume and read New Year’s poems and dance in a circle for two whole hours for the amusement of the public. I felt unwell. Timur walked ahead, and I slowly turned around and walked in the opposite direction. However, my experienced comrade quickly noticed my maneuver and in a well-placed voice shouted to the whole hall: “Where to, deserter?!” There was no way back for me, only forward, to the managers...
In answer to the question: where is your dressing room? — the administrator opened a small door for us, saying that here we could calmly change clothes. It turned out that the door led to the club’s internal staircase, meaning that you had to change clothes right on the landing. There was nothing to do, Timur threw off the bundle of things.
When Timur pulled out the Snow Maiden costume, I almost fainted again. It was a huge robe made of white scratchy brocade, trimmed with artificial, slightly rolled fur. It was accompanied by a hat in the style of a Monomakh made from the same material. The hat lay on my eyebrows, brushing my false eyelashes if I turned my head.
But the most amazing detail of the look were the shoes. They ended up on an insane 12-centimeter stiletto heel. I could only stand in them, staggering a little and having difficulty maintaining my balance. The wonderful costume was completed with a white sash, which I tied with it so that the difference between our sizes and the robe would not be so noticeable. The only reassuring thing was that in such an outfit and in such makeup, even my own mother would not recognize me.
Fairytale imprint
“How can you meet such a beauty?” — asked a plump middle-aged guy, wildly dancing rock and roll around me, only languidly moving his hands to the music. Suddenly, in a fit of delight, he tried to hug me around the waist and spin me in a waltz. Smiling with crimson lips, I weakly fought back, realizing that I would absolutely not be able to waltz, I would simply collapse. But then a younger colleague of the uncle came to my aid.
“Don’t touch the Snow Maiden, she’s common,” he growled in my ear. The first guy treacherously dropped his hands. I staggered. The uncle began to step on his colleague with the words: “Who is touching her, who is touching her?” An event was brewing. To be honest, when I’m in my natural form, grown men don’t fight for me.
Santa Claus saved the situation. He turned off the catchy music and announced in a loud voice: “And now we will light the Christmas tree!” The audience responded with cheers of joy.
“So,” continued Grandfather, “we shout together with me: “One, two, three, Christmas tree, burn!”
But the uncle, his colleague, and other celebrants tried in vain - the tree did not burn. Then Timur guessed: “Someone plug the Christmas tree into the socket!”
This remedy worked, the tree began to blink with colorful lights. The public began to demand a round dance...
When we walked through the hall back to the exit, none of the managers even turned their heads in our direction. We were no longer Father Frost and Snow Maiden. However, on the subway, some girl looked at me for a long time, and then asked her mother: “Is this the Snow Maiden?” Now, I thought, a fairy tale imprint has already appeared on me, the child feels it.
I saw the print in the mirror at home - it turns out I forgot to remove the “fairytale” makeup.
According to fire safety rules
The alarm clock insistently rings at 6 am. For a long time I can’t understand why it’s so early? Then I remember: today is a New Year’s party at the 2nd “A” grade of some school. So today I will be the Snow Maiden again.
For a long time I got lost among the identical new buildings. Finally, I found the school building. I accidentally raised my head and on the second floor I saw several boys who were carefully watching me crawl through the snowdrifts. It's a good thing I'm not in a suit!
While Timur and I were turning into fairy-tale characters in an empty classroom, head teacher Nina Alekseevna explained to us: “There is a girl in this class who came dressed as the Snow Maiden. You should mark it somehow, otherwise last year some stupid Santa Claus came across it and just waved it off. The girl then cried like that: And again. Many children believe in Santa Claus, don’t say that you are not real, they themselves will understand when necessary...”
And now I must again enter where the Snow Maiden is waiting. Only now these are children, and it is unclear who is scarier: drunken adults or attentive second-graders.
I knock loudly on the door. The hubbub behind her suddenly subsides. I walk decisively into class. Dead silence, the children are looking at me. Then someone subtly: “A-ah, Snow-by-the-river-ah...”. And then all the girls jump up from their seats screaming and rush towards me. They hug me, climb over each other: I can hardly stand on my stiletto heels anymore. And then I remember about that same girl, the Snow Maiden. "Children! - I shout loudly. - Do you know that there is another Snow Maiden here? This is my sister, now I’ll show her to you.”
I look carefully at the girls - almost all of them look like Snow Maidens. How to guess the one you need? Aha, I think that's it! I point to a little girl in a silver plush fur coat. The little girl takes off and runs towards me gratefully. Then I shout with the children: “Santa Claus, come!” — and I look at their faces. Many are very serious, apparently, they really believe that the real Grandfather will come in now.
Two hours go by very quickly. During the joyful chaos, a gloomy boy in a wizard’s hat comes up to me and quietly asks: “Weren’t you the one walking through the snowdrifts around the school?” - "I? Around school? Yes, Grandfather and I always come on a sleigh!” He sniffles offendedly and turns away.
Finally, we must light the Christmas tree. Several times we shout the magic: “One, two, three:” - and the Christmas tree traditionally does not light up. When the children were already tired of screaming, Nina Alekseevna entered the class and informed everyone that, according to fire safety rules, it is forbidden to turn on garlands on Christmas trees in schools.
Have a wonderful time this whole year
Timur and I make our way among the bookshelves. Today we have a call to the foreign literature store.
We enter a small room where store employees are drinking champagne around a table with light snacks. Jazz is playing softly. Tall Timur in a red fur coat and I in my robe cause everyone great surprise.
This order was my Santa Claus's swan song. Poems flowed from him like a river: “I wish you an interesting life and exactly fulfill your promise - to live wonderfully this whole year...”. The booksellers obediently snacked on olives, smiling quietly. Apparently, their complacent mood disposed Timur Moroz to play the “Atsin Tsutsa” game.
In it you need to walk in a circle, sometimes backwards, sometimes with your legs turned out and your elbows apart, sometimes with your knees bent. And at the same time repeat the cherished: “Atsin tsutsa, atsin tsutsa, atsin tsutsa yok.” The employees began to obediently follow Grandfather, but quickly stepped aside and silently watched the action. Pretty soon it was just the two of us. After completing another circle, Timur suddenly stopped. "What is it? Why don't you participate in games? Now I’ll complain to your manager - why did he hire us?” - Timur was offended and brought a stern lady with glasses. “Gentlemen! Why so inactive? - the lady asked. “Well, are Santa Claus and Snow Maiden working in vain?”
It’s time to shout: “Christmas tree, burn!” They brought a small Christmas tree decorated with designer toys and candles. They turned off the lights and everyone began to diligently light candles...
We also had offers to work at the New Year's Eve party itself - for a lot of money, by the way. But I refused. Now let the Snow Maiden come to me - I also want to light the Christmas tree at home.
