The second hand graveyard cross. Chapter 1

THE SECOND HAND GRAVEYARD CROSS

A starry night, like a gigantic mythical bird, covered the countryside with its black wings, cooling down the lush vegetation of a Ukrainian village that was profusely warmed by a daily dose of summer sunshine. The full moon took its reign in the darkened sky and illuminated the silhouettes of three graveyard crosses with its eerie light.

"It's high time!" said Cardan.
"Let's hang on a little longer," interjected Sucker.
"Are you going to wait until the break of dawn?" Gray interrupted them.


The way to the private graveyard had to be trodden through a potato plot. The height of the plant tops reached up to the knees and the thick dew made thier going quite uncomfortable. The courageous group of three men set off to the desired goal.

In place of a quiet summer day came a sonorous night; it filled the darkness with croaking of the frogs and chirping of the crickets. The village dweller, overburdened with hard work, does not notice the day's noise, singing of birds and rustling of leaves. He is so eager to take care of his daily worries, as though he were about to complete some important undertaking, after which there would be a rest, bringing him an opportunity to enjoy the fruits of his hard labor. But the morning comes and the history repeats itself. Totally depleted of his strength, he goes to bed. When he wakes up before the sunrise, he has to feed his cattle and poultry. Then he goes to work. When he returns home exhausted late in the evening, he should do the chores that have been piled up during the day. And there is nothing new under the sun. He is destined to be trapped in this vicious circle with no visible prospect of the future. Life flows like water under the bridge. And now on the slope of his years he is eager to recall some pleasant moments of his past. In the recesses of his memory he finds only one monotonous, boring day. It turns out that he has lived it over many a time in a row, so the reverie is limited to the life events that comprise the fullness of only one tedious day, and the future looks bleak for him.
 
But not all, who live in the village, want to experience such a deplorable fate. They try to diversify their existence with the help of alcohol. The intoxicating effect of it pictures one`s life to be successful, hopeful and full of meaning. It matters little for them that their happy life is just a figment of imagination. As long as they are tipsy, they continue living in their imaginary world - the world of hopes and dreams.
            
Meanwhile, the night prowlers are not daunted by pessimism. They are trying to get hold of the only remedy that gives respite from the boredom of monotony. These three brave friends must act quickly and quietly because the graves are near a private house, and they need to avoid the trouble of being seen by anyone.

In the second half of a working day a man with a face shattered by some grim occurrence peeped into the local tractor workshop.
“Excuse me! Can you tell me where the turner is?” he asked. The man was not local and did not know the mechanics of the workshop. Cardan, who was fiddling with the engine of his broken down tractor, sprang into action with all the energy of a natural swindler and instantly rushed to him.
“I'm the turner,” he answered convincingly, wiping his greasy hands on a rag.
“My aunt's passed away,” the stranger continued, “Could you make me an iron cross?”
“My sincere condolences! Sadly, there's no way of escaping death. Death is a price we pay for life."
"Yes,  that's true," said the man with a sigh.
"I honestly assure you that we`ll get it done in no time. Don`t worry. Tomorrow morning the cross will be ready. It will cost you next to nothing. Just one liter of vodka,” Cardan reassured him in a confident and sympathetic tone of voice.

In the village people are more known by their nicknames, which emphasizes their type of character in a colorful manner demonstrating a person not only as a unit of society but also as an individual. And why is he called Cardan (a driveshaft in Ukrainian) one might ask? Well, because it spins. One has to always remain on a constant move in order to survive in this cruel world,.

For greater credibility Cardan led the visitor to show the welder, who would weld together the parts made by the turner, to create a tomb cross.
“Oh, speak of the devil. Here he comes. Now we`ll sort out everything right away. I'm telling you that it`s going to be alright. The things will work out well. Tomorrow the cross will be made, come rain or shine,” Cardan encouraged him again.
“Gray, this man`s aunt has died. He`s in a desperate need of a tomb cross for tomorrow.”

Actually Gray was not a welder at all. He was visiting the tractor workshop by chance. "Maybe," he thought, "the guys have some alcohol today and will treat me to a drink." And why do you think he was called Gray? Simply because he constantly sniffed, searched, and scoured in search of booze like a wolf. He knew the simple truth that if you are always early, you are never late. Gray instantly sensed the chance to have a drink and assumed a role of the welder with no hesitation.

“There's nothing to worry about. It's a done deal now. Tomorrow morning come with a liter of vodka. A cross will be ready. The turner will make the rings and cut the pipe. I will weld everything together. The chief mechanic will provide us with the material.”
“But if the chief mechanic will not give you a pipe.” The stranger's doubt gave away a moment's anxiety.
“Oh, there he goes, Dmitry Ivanovich, can I talk to you for a minute?” Cardan called up a passing by Sucker with a fake name.

“I? What? What do you want?” dumbfounded Sucker stammered. Cardan and Gray, having winked, explained to him that the man was in grief, that his aunt had died and a pipe for the cross was required immediately. Sucker was clumsy in swindles and scams, however, knowing the nature of those two rascals, he realized that they were up to cheating some alcohol out of him. He paused and was wondering how to react - but his face gave nothing away. When Sucker had been in doubt as to which way to move, Cardan had always nudged him subtly in the right direction. So Sucker looked at Cardan for confirmation and he furtively nodded back.
“Yes, of course, I will sign you off a pipe. My condolences! When is the funeral?”
“Tomorrow at 2 pm.”
“OK, come to me in an hour, I'll look for it in the storage room.”
“Dmitry Ivanovich, tell the man directly, will there be a pipe or not?” Cardan insisted on the answer, winking at Sucker surreptitiously.
“I have one, such as you need. Come to me in half an hour. I`m just busy now. I'll provide you with one.”
"So in half an hour we'll have the wheels turning," Cardan said.

Finally, the matter was settled and the visitor left the tractor workshop.
“Where can I get you a pipe?” Sucker asked Cardan indignantly.
He was not able to think quickly and assess the situation in his favour and always asked dubious questions.
 
“For crying out loud, why are you so slow to think? You should be always on the move! Even a blind chicken finds a corn now and again!” Cardan reproached them. “Let's go outside, I'll show you something.” Leading two of his friends out of the workshop, he pointed his index finger at three graves, located two hundred meters from them, “Now, I'll put the cards on the table. There's no point in reinventing the wheel. Tonight, that cross over there, the newest one, we will steal."
"Are you kidding us, or do you really mean it?" Grey chuckled.
"What's the big deal? They'll never know what hit them.”
"That`s hilarious!" agreed Grey.

During the Man-made famine (Holodomor) of 1932-33, people died massively. Managing with the funerals and see off the deceased in their last way to the local cemetery was greatly problemetic. They were buried near the houses in which they had lived. In the course of time some of the relatives of the deceased expressed a wish to be buried next to their relatives; and thus the tradition of burial at the family cemetery continued for several decades after the tragic events experienced by the people of Ukraine.

And so, in the deep-night darkness the men approached one of such family cemeteries. Suddenly they heard a sepulchral creak of the opening front door of the nearby house.
“Be quiet, someone went out,” Gray stopped his friends.
The trinity, holding their breaths, crouched down.
Another door creaked, producing an infernal reverberation in the air.
“Someone went out to the outside toilet. We should wait until he comes back into the house.”

When everything became as quiet as a grave again, Sucker approached an iron cross.
“This one or what?” he asked.
“Can`t you see that those two crosses are wooden and this one is made of iron! Of course this is the one! Come on, pull it out!” Cardan commanded.
“Why me, again me?! It seems like there is no one else but me! Always me! OK, here goes nothing.” Sucker, grumbling, grabbed the cross with his both hands, trying to pull it out of the ground.
“Guys, help me, it doesn't give way!”

Cardan started pulling it to the left, Gray to the right, Sucker, standing in the middle, was being wagged like a tail from side to side: to the left - to the right, over here  - over there.
“Something doesn`t let it go out,” complained Sucker.
“Keep on pulling! Stop talking! A rod welded across the bottom of the pipe is  preventing it from coming out. Pull stronger!"
Gray took the initiative.

Huffing and puffing with the effort, the guys managed to pull the cross out of the ground.

“Oh, no! What have we done? Just check it out! We bent it at the bottom. What do we do?” whispered Sucker in a frustrated voice. “Shall we leave it here or take it? I think we'd better call it a night.”
“Are you crazy?! Of course, we'll take it! It's too early to cry wolf. Tomorrow we'll make something up,” Cardan blurted out, not losing enthusiasm.

The next morning the friends gathered over the bent cross and began to rack their brains, trying to figure out a way out of the difficulty.

“Now what?” Sucker stammered, throwing an incomprehensible glance at his friends.
“I always seem to be the one, who picks up the slack. I will go to the welder and promise him a drink for cutting off the twisted end and welding a new piece of a pipe,” Eventually, Cardan came up with an idea that really looked like a plan.
“But a welding seam will be visible!” Sucker, not believing in the success of their trick, expressed a doubt again.
“Oh, guys, enough already! It's too bad about that, but there`s nothing to worry about. We will paint it, and it will look like a new one.”

Ultimately, managing with the task, the guys went to meet the customer of the cross at the entrance to the workshop. His timing was perfect.

“Wow, you have even painted it!” The customer was pleasantly surprised.
“Yes, do not get smudged. Take it over here and over there with these two pieces of paper and wrap them around the pipe just like this. When you come home put the cross against the sun. The paint will instantly get dried.
“Here's the payment, as agreed.”

Grabbing the alcohol with his both hands, Cardan rushed in the direction of a grove, Gray and Sucker followed him for a feast. They looked like three excited children on Christmas Eve. Knowing without a doubt that there were treats waiting for them.

Having buried his aunt, the nephew outside to check out the potato plot and was struck with a horrible surprise. The grave of one of his relatives, whom he buried two years before, happened to be without a cross.

Later he told people in the village, "Guess what, I walk in front of the funeral procession of my late aunt carrying a cross. We stop to take a breath. Suddenly something familiar about it catches my eye. I take a closer look at it, and some strange creepy feeling gets into my mind: somewhere I've already seen it. But I'm not sure how that could possibly be relevant. We start moving on; the same diabolical flashbacks keep nagging at me: well, there's something familiar about it.

Yesterday morning I went out of the house to take a look at the garden stumbled on a grave of my relative, which was lacking a cross. My mind was blown, and I was totally terrified. So that's it! Suddenly I clearly recalled that I had already held it once in my hands. It's turned out that I buried two of my relatives with one and the same cross. Oh, those bastards! They will be punished for their sins in the afterlife. Luckily no harm was done. The bottom line is that the cross is back with my family again."