1. may 2010 at 11:25 | The |  Povídky staršího data
Moje anglická povídka, kterou jsem poslala do soutěže. Anglicky neumím, téměř všechno přeložil můj brácha (vlastně všechno, ačkoliv část prvního odstavce jsem byla schopná přeložit.). Nedalo mi to a musela jsem ji vyvěsit.
Tohle je jedna z odpovědí, proč sem tak málo píšu - soutěž, která mi pomůže připadat si lépe a navíc škola. Ze školy jsme toho na zádech měli poslední týden naloženého vážně hodně. Teď už by to mělo být lepší.
Závazně slibuji, že do konce týdne přibudou nové díly Romance a Teroristy. :)
Prosím kritiku..
Have fun.

I opened my eyes, looked at the clock - and, after a momentary glance, lay my head back on the desk and closed my eyelids shut. This was yet another infinite History lesson and I was extremely bored, as usual. I could picture my face: looking like it always did, as if it was carved into stone the moment I was born. I have only expressed few emotions in my life; almost none, actually. Because I had nothing else to do, I tried to fight my sleep back by starting to think - and reminisce.
Ever since I was a child, I was deemed an alien in their world. Completely indifferent to everything and everyone, I tolerated the opinions of others but left my own locked down in the safety of my head. At the beginning, they ascribed my complacency to my low age, to their lack of understanding of childish matters - and also to the fact that I had lost my parents when I had been a three-year-old. They condescended to me just like they did to the rest of the children who had lost their parents, to the rest of the orphans in that orphanage. I was... dismissive, for lack of a better term. I didn't care. They put me in a foster family; I didn't spend much time there, though. They had conjured an image of a cute little Suzie - but whoops, here I came instead of her, nothing like their dreams. I, not communicating like a human should. So they returned me to the orphanage, where it didn't take them long to conclude that I was cuckoo and belonged in the asylum.
It started off promisingly in there. But it wasn't, as you can imagine. Since I have never behaved as an ordinary human, nobody believed me... and honestly, I started to madden after a while. After all, I was in a madhouse: no friends, just creatures "of a different kind", as I named them. As a side note, I had been thinking that my planet of origin was Mars where I was to rule as Martians' queen -- but never mind. Having been judged harmless by the asylum, director, I was returned -- story of my life, isn't it? -- to the orphanage and the school. I could not shake my madness off quite so easily. Only one thing could. A sentence, pronounced by a real human. A sentence which changed my life.
I was dwelling in my fantasies at that very moment, when I bumped into something. A column. Huh. I did not really upset me; that just happened to me sometimes. It was a part of me, a madwoman as they called me -- but I longed to be what I called a human. The moment I bumped into that column, I decided. Yes, I will strive to come back to life. But how? Theatre, competition, quiz? I was not good at any of that. And what about making friends? asked one of those many thoughts which had been chaotically running through my head so fast that I could only scarcely contemplate it. Friends? After some consideration, that seemed just as unreal. But what should I do?
Sadly, I started to wander towards home. Home. The orphanage. Where they kept continually telling me that I was a psycho and belonged in the asylum, but where the board of directors just concluded that I couldn't cause any harm in there and that I was harmless. But was I?
I walked the streets of the city, my head buzzing with thoughts.
But when I pressed the door-knob, my only chance at salvation - or so I thought - occurred to me. I was going to write an article into a magazine! The school periodical Attention! was widely bought, circulated and read. I could definitely break the glass ceiling in there.
And sure enough, I wrote a reportage about that very school-day, and submitted it to the magazine e-mail before doubt arrived, as I knew it would. It did. This is going to ruin me, I thought. Everyone - not just some people, but every one! - is going to laugh at me. I will be forced to seek refuge somewhere where nobody will be looking for me, and that never ends well. Places where nobody goes are dangerous and forbidden - the punishments are strict and gross - the orphanage preceptors would kill me for that. To sum it up, I made a huge mistake, which I will regret for the rest of my remarkably short life. Oh, tomorrow, what a pleasant morning you have in store for me.
"Dinner!" shouted the preceptor from the kitchen. So I sighed and went, full of uncertain fear of the future.
The next day, I looked over my shoulder a lot, examined everybody and alertly kept an eye out for everyone who could be looking at me. In short, I was very, very paranoid.
And by the big break, somebody looked at me. A girl. A fair-haired, blue-eyed, wearing fashionable jeans and a high-quality brand T-shirt. She smiled at me and carved her way to me through the crown, like an angel.
"Is your name, perchance, Jane Brightwood?" she asked curiously.
"Yes, that is me," I conceded warily. Was she from the magazine?
"We have received your article, and we totally want to print it. Plus, I want to ask you if you wanted to join the Attention! editorial staff!" Her smile grew a little wider. Almost unnaturaly. But I didn't see that.
"You can't be serious," I whispered and felt as good as it was humanely possible. Hope expanded everywhere, joy erupted from deep within: I knew I was a human, a real one, an ordinary touchy feely human! A normal person with aspirations, desires, longings; a person who fell in love with life, and with the school magazine, too!
And I, in point of fact, woke my old jubilant me up and fought the mad me off of the threads of my thought. As a result of just one sentence. A sentence pronounced by a human, a real human: me. You can't be serious? Damn yeah, I can.
I was to find out that she wasn't. She was kidding with wanting to publish the article, as well as with the admission to the staff, and I totally bit the bait. But it was good nevertheless: I started to behave like a true human. Like the person who I really am. As a result, I dealt with my issues, I stopped complaining and swearing at my life. I came to terms with nobody wanting me, that not even a foster family can take me in. I learnt to take life as it came: painful at times, but altogether awesome.
The bell rang; the History class was over. I hid my simper behind the veil of hair. I stood up, took my bag up and went on to be an ordinary, inconsequential human in a crowd. That may not be much, but that was what I always wanted to be.

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1 Kačka Kačka | 1. may 2010 at 12:10 | React

Terko, v tý angličtině to zní fakt mnohem líp :-) Ani bych se nedivila, kdybys to vyhrála, čéče.

2 The The | 1. may 2010 at 12:58 | React

[1]: Děkuji ti :) Ale já jsem to před překladem ještě upravila. A divné to je, nechápu to. Je angličtina vznešenější jazyk, či co? ;)

3 mil01 mil01 | 1. may 2010 at 17:16 | React

Muzu vedet proc to tu neni i v puvodni vezi... Jinak pekny to jo. :-)

4 Kika Kika | Web | 1. may 2010 at 18:12 | React

Pěkný... Ikdyž jsem nebyla schopná přeložit všechno, takže jsem "občas" musela zajet do slovníku :) Ale povedlo se ti to... Já to zkoušela, ale nešlo mi to, tak jsem se na to vyprdla... :D

5 Kačka Kačka | 2. may 2010 at 11:21 | React

[3]: Věř mi - v původní verzi to nestálo za nic :-D (Terko nezabij mě)

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