Зелёные нити перевод на английский

Prologue
The fog covered the old city like a gray blanket, hiding its secrets. The streets were empty, only the rare lanterns flickered like fading stars. In this city, time passed slowly, and the past never let go.
It was here, in a house with peeling paint and creaky steps, that a story woven from green threads began.

Chapter 1. Letter
Anna did not like to return to this house. Every time she crossed the threshold, she felt a chill run down her spine. But the letter that arrived the day before left her no choice.
"Dear Anna, you must come back. It all started again. Green threads..."
The letter was signed with the name of her grandmother, who died ten years ago.

Chapter 2. The Secret of the Attic
Dust hung in the air when Anna climbed up to the attic. Old chests, yellowed books, children's toys - everything bore traces of the past. And then she saw it.
A box tied with green thread.
The thread was cold to the touch, as if alive. When Anna touched it, a thought flashed through her mind:
"Don't untie..."
But she was already pulling at the tip.

Chapter 3. Awakening
The city had changed. Or rather, it wasn't quite a city. The streets were the same, but now they were entwined with green threads, like a spider's web. They hung between the houses, wrapped around the lanterns, and reached toward the sky.
Anna realized that she was not alone.
A figure in a long cloak stood in the shadows, its face hidden by a hood.
"You untied the thread," the stranger whispered. "Now you see."

Chapter 4. Weavers
They called themselves the Weavers.
"The world is a canvas," the silver-haired woman explained. "We watch the threads so it doesn't fall apart."
“What happens if the thread breaks?” Anna asked.
The woman looked at her with a blank stare.
- Then everything will disappear.

Chapter 5. The Break
The thread in Anna's hands began to darken.
Somewhere in the city, something went wrong. Someone disturbed the peace.
“They’re here,” Tkach whispered.
The shadows began to move.
Anna ran through the streets entangled with green threads. She now knew the truth.
And she knew she had to find the end of the thread before the world fell apart.
And somewhere in the darkness, the one who started it all was laughing...
 
Chapter 6. He who spins
The shadows moved unnaturally, as if they were being pulled by invisible threads. Anna squeezed a green strand in her hand - it pulsated as if alive.
"They're coming for you," Tkach said, his voice sounding like it was coming through water. "Run. Before it's too late."
But where to?
The city she knew was now a labyrinth of intertwined threads, some glowing a faint emerald, others blackened as if rotted.
And suddenly - a whisper.
- Anna…
She turned around.
On the wall of the house, where the cafe sign used to be, there was now a huge ball of yarn hanging. It was slowly unwinding, and something was moving in its core.

Chapter 7. Puppeteer
A hand extended from the ball. Pale, almost transparent, with long fingers that ended not in nails, but in... threads.
“You broke the pattern,” the voice hissed.
Anna recoiled, but it was too late.
The thread on her wrist twitched.
Pain pierced my body, as if someone had stuck thousands of needles under my skin.
Images swam before my eyes:
- A grandmother standing in front of a mirror, sewing up her mouth with green thread.
— A child in a cradle, entangled in a web of silk.
- A man falls from a roof, but instead of blood, threads come out of the wound.
“It’s true,” Anna whispered.
“No,” the voice replied. “This is just the beginning.”
The ball broke.

Chapter 8. The Fabric of the World
She woke up in an empty theater.
The stage was covered with a web of green threads, and He sat in the center.
A man in a black suit, his face hidden behind a mask of tangled fibers. His fingers moved quickly, deftly, as he knitted a new thread.
“You’re awake,” he said without raising his head. “Good. Now you see how everything works.”
“Who are you?” Anna’s voice trembled.
— I am the one who holds the strings. The one who decides who will be the puppet and who will be the puppeteer.
He raised his hand, and Anna felt a tug.
Her body stood up on its own.
Her legs moved without her will.
- You're part of the pattern now, Anna. Just like your grandmother. Just like everyone else who ever found this box.

Chapter 9. Scissors
But grandma warned me.
Before she disappeared, she left one last gift.
Anna clenched her fist convulsively - there was something cold in her pocket.
Small scissors.
Steel, with handles wrapped in the same green thread.
"Cut," something whispered in her head. "Cut before it's too late."
The puppeteer froze.
- Where did you get this?
Anna smiled.
- Grandma passed it on.
And she cut the thread on her wrist.

Chapter 10. Freedom
Scream.
Inhuman, piercing.
The Puppeteer's mask fell apart, revealing no face underneath, only a tangled ball of thread.
The walls of the theatre shook.
The thread on Anna's hand disappeared.
But when she ran out into the street, the city was still in turmoil.
And in the distance, on the town hall tower, a new ball shone.
Someone else had already picked up the box with the green thread...
 
Chapter 11. The Pattern Falls Apart
The city was no longer the same. The green threads that had once only quietly entangled the streets now pulsed like veins. They were compressed, as if something was trying to strangle the very air.
Anna ran, clutching the scissors in her fist. Grandma's gift burned her fingers as if it were alive.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” came a voice from behind.
She turned around.
There was a boy standing on the bridge. About ten years old, in a tattered shirt, but his eyes... They were empty, as if there was nothing behind them.
- Who are you?
“I was the first,” he said. “The one who found the box before you. Before your grandmother. Before everyone.”
His fingers tightened and Anna felt something pulling her back.

Chapter 12. The First Thread
The boy didn't attack. He just watched.
“He’s not the Puppeteer,” Anna whispered.
“No,” the boy agreed. “He’s just next in line. Like you.”
He raised his hand, and a memory opened up before Anna.
Painting:
A dark room. A table. On it is a box with a green thread. A hand reaches for it...
- Was it you?
- Yes. I untied her. And then He came.
The boy slowly pulled back the collar of his shirt.
His neck was tied with a green thread that dug into his skin.
— He said I could be great. That I would weave the world. But I'm just... stuck.

Chapter 13. Scissors and a Needle
Anna understood.
- You can't free yourself.
- No. But you can.
He extended his hand.
- Give me the scissors.
Anna's heart began to beat wildly.
- For what?
- To cut your thread.
But she remembered her grandmother's words:
"Never give away scissors. They are the only thing that can save you."
- No.
The boy has changed.
- Then I don't need you.
And the threads on the bridge came to life.

Chapter 14. Battle on the Bridge
They attacked like snakes.
Anna cut, but there were too many threads.
One wrapped around her ankle, the pain like hot metal.
The second one reached for her throat...
And suddenly - a ringing sound.
The scissors flashed bright green.
The boy screamed.
- She chose you?!
Anna didn’t understand, but she acted.
One swing and the thread on the boy's neck snapped.

Chapter 15. Liberation
He fell apart.
Not into dust, but into... threads.
The green fibers unraveled, turning into glowing dust.
The last thing he said was:
- He is afraid of scissors... because they are her gift...
And then he disappeared.
Anna stood, trembling.
Who is she?
And why did grandma know?

Chapter 16. Mirror
She returned to the house.
There was a mirror in my grandmother’s bedroom—the very one from the vision.
Anna came closer... and saw.
The reflection did not repeat her movements.
The woman in the mirror was smiling.
“You took the first step,” she said.
- Who are you?
- She who created scissors.
The mirror fogged up and the words appeared on the glass:
"Find a needle. Sew up the tear."

Green threads
Chapter 17. Fabric and Needle
The reflection in the mirror faded, but the words seemed to be ingrained in the glass. Anna ran her finger over the inscription - the surface rippled like water.
"Find the needle."
She remembered: when she was a child, her grandmother kept an old sewing box. There must be...
The dresser drawer creaked as she opened it. Under a layer of yellowed lace lay a silver needle. An unusual one - too long, with an eye shaped like a snake's eye.
As soon as Anna touched it, the mirror cracked.
Threads began to creep out of the cracks.

Chapter 18. The Seamstress
The cracks formed the outline of a door.
Anna didn’t hesitate – she stepped into the mirror.
Silence.
She stood in an endless workshop: the walls were made of fabric, instead of lamps there were balls of light glowing green. And in the center...
A woman at a spinning wheel.
Her fingers moved quickly, quickly, but instead of a thread, darkness was spinning.
“You’re late,” she said without raising her head.
- Who are you?
- The one who tried to fix everything.
The woman finally looked at Anna.
She had no mouth, just rough stitches, as if it had been sewn shut.

Chapter 19. The History of the Needle
"He was my apprentice," whispered the Seamstress, touching her face. "He dreamed of becoming a great Weaver. But he stole a needle... and pierced the Cloth."
She opened her palm and there lay a piece of thread, black as ash.
- This gap is growing. If we don't stitch it up, the world will fall apart.
- How?
The seamstress held out a ball of thread:
- Find what he stole. My first needle.
- But where?
— Where it all began.
Suddenly the walls began to move.
- He's coming. Run!

Chapter 20. House by the River
Anna fell out of the mirror straight into the water.
A cold river, an old bridge... and a house that wasn't there before.
The very one from the boy's memories.
The door creaked as if calling you inside.
There were dolls hanging in the hallway, all with their faces tied together with green threads.
And on the table...
Box.
That's the one.
But when Anna opened it, inside was not a thread, but a rusty needle.
Voice behind:
- I didn't think you'd get this far.

Chapter 21. The Face of the Puppeteer
He stood in the doorway, tall, in a tattered frock coat.
The thread mask slipped off, revealing his face.
It was sewn together from different pieces of leather, like a patchwork quilt.
"You get it, right?" he whispered. "There's no 'him' or 'her'. There's only us. Those who couldn't stop."
His hand reached for the needle on the table.
- Let's finish as we began.

Chapter 22. The Last Stitch
Anna stuck her needle into her palm.
Pain.
The blood hissed, turning into a golden thread.
The puppeteer shouted:
- You can't! It's mine!
But it was too late.
Anna pulled the thread towards his face – towards the rough seams...
And she ripped them apart.

Chapter 23. Dawn
Darkness poured out of him like sand.
The house fell apart.
And when Anna opened her eyes, she was standing on an ordinary bridge.
In an ordinary city.
Without threads.
There were only scissors in my pocket...
And one silver needle.
The girl found a box in the attic.
There is a green thread inside.
She reached out to her...
But someone's hand intercepted hers.
“It’s not worth it,” said Anna, hiding the scissors in her sleeve. “Come on, I’ll tell you a story.”

Mystically Open Epilogue: Fabric Without Beginning
The city stood as before. But Anna knew that something had changed.
She walked down the street, and the shadows repeated her movements, one step behind. In the shop windows, instead of reflections, sometimes other people's silhouettes flashed - as if someone was watching from another layer of reality.
In her pocket, the needle and scissors warmed from the heat of her hand.
An old woman was sitting on a bench near the fountain, knitting.
“When you finish one, start another,” she said without looking.
- What?
The old woman held out the ball. Something alive was moving inside.
- Take it. You won't leave anyway.
Anna stretched...
And woke up.
 
Her room. Morning. Everything as usual.
But:
- There was a green thread lying on the windowsill.
- Someone blinked in the mirror when she turned away.
- And something quietly moved under the skin of my wrist...
She picked up the needle.
A thin web got stuck in my ear.
And she began to reach for the door herself.
Last frame:
The door to the room opens slightly.
Outside there is an endless staircase, the steps of which are sewn from different fabrics.
Somewhere below a spinning wheel hums.
Somewhere above a child is laughing.
Anna takes a step.
Curtain.