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Lina Dee

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DIREVILLE

By Lina Dee

Edited by Helen Borodina

Translated by Helen Borodina & Igor Stepashkin

Illustrated by Monaskrel`art

“Direville” is a collection of 9 short stories about the life of a fantasy city in Western Europe in the first half of the XX century.

Direville is an ordinary – even though a bit strange – town – woven out of mysteries that don’t meet the eye of a chance observer who would most likely note a dire presence speaking through the town’s blissful ambiance at a closer look…

Each person living there is unusual, and has a special part to play in the life of the community.

However, everyone in Direville – like anywhere else in the world – has their vices, is tormented by fears and is driven by passions.

Life seems quite measured when suddenly, the people’s unusual abilities seem to vanish: no one senses the approaching danger that knocks on their door on the day of the city’s annual Festival.

Her hand had a life of its own

She slowly stretched out her hand, the swaying palm opening like a fan, starting with the pointing finger.

The fingers, long and well-groomed, with nails of a scarlet shade that was a perfect match to that of her lipstick, tickled the air, recoiling as the forearm pulled the palm back, and froze in an indefinite gesture.

The Doll — who was in perfect control over her independent hand — had an incredible fancy for Hollywood chic that she proudly paraded, with her elegant silver dress reaching the floor, and the gorgeous waves of crispy locks falling over her shoulders. Her arched eyebrows perfectly matched the curve of the upper lip, and immaculate eye-liner, interplaying with the thick eyelashes, made her gaze magnetic.

The girl looked like a porcelain figurine on top of a music box as she stood by the window in the same position for hours on end, waiting for something — or someone — perhaps, her Puppet Master, while life pulled at her threads.

At such times, she was very quiet. Her head slightly bent to the side, she listened to the ticking of the clock as she watched its gilded arrows move. She considered this an activity that had a sacred meaning — but what that meaning was exactly, she hadn’t been able to figure out for years. Her milk — white skin, free of wrinkles or bruises, was immaculate.

Approaching her dressing table, she would meet her own reflection in the mirror as if it were someone else — with arrogance and pride. Her manner never changed, as if she was aware of something no one else had any knowledge about…

Someone knocked on the door. The Hollywood Doll turned her head and slowly stretched out her hand, letting the swaying palm open like a fan, starting with the pointing finger, and reached to open the door… But then, stopped, uncertain…

A dwarf in a box

The sea storm has started; the wind raged, and the waves tumbling over each other reached over twenty feet in height.

No ships, vessels, or liners could be seen from the shore — only enormous water giants threatening to swallow the flickering beacon again and again.

The wind pushed the waves onto the sand to lick away the remaining footsteps. The family that had left them were hurrying home, away from the onsetting storm.

Two little girls were running ahead of two adults. Their loose overalls swung in the wind that filled them like sails and made the children’s hair dance.

Their mother in a tight lilac dress ran after, her thick long wavy hair gathered into a braid. Playfully chasing her daughters, she laughed, happy that finally their family had managed to spend a free day together.

The pensive father walked quickly behind the three. He was a zeppelin pilot. Even off duty, he had his blue uniform on. His jacket was adorned with golden buttons and emblems; he was wearing his service cap, too. Looking adoringly at his wife and daughters, he thought of his own childhood.

The pilot’s name was Peter, his wife’s, Stephanie, and their daughters, — Rosa and Vera.

The wind wouldn’t