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PRICA
STORY
Zahvaljujuci dobroj volji Olivere Jelkic, pesnika i pisca za decu, po prvi put u Decjem svetu imamo priliku da vam prezentujemo jedan predivan roman za decu, u nastavcima. Olivera, HVALA!
Sve vec objavljene delove naci cete u arhivi prica.
Thanks to the goodwill of Olivera Jelkic, the children's poet and writer, for the first time on the Kids' World we are able to present you a beautiful children's novel. Olivera, THANK YOU!
All parts that has already been published can be found in the prose archive.
    U Dekalendu, deca su imala mnostvo igracaka. Te igracke im nisu kupovali roditelji, vec su ih sami pravili ili pronalazili u svom okruzenju.
    Mislim da nije bilo deteta koje nije imalo "krpenjacu".
    Krpenjaca je vrsta lopte, nalik na ove danasnje lopte, jedino sto je bila od krpe. Spolja su krpe bile usivene jakim koncem, ali to cesto nije bilo dovoljno cvrsto, pa se dogadjalo da se krpenjaca pocepa i da iz nje pocne da ispada sadrzaj kojim je bila napunjena.Tada bi je odneli mami na popravku. Kada joj mama usije rane zadobijene  na fudbalskom terenu, krpenjaca je ponovo spremna za nove utakmice.
    Krpenjaca mi se toliko svidela da sam za nju hteo da dam rolere, ali niko nije hteo da se menja.

 
ZIVO BLATO

    Bilo je prolece. Sneg se otopio. Dunav je poceo da nadolazi, izliva se iz svog korita i prekriva siroku ravnicu koja ga je delila od sela. Poljana i rit koji su delili selo od nabujale reke poceli su da zive. Sve je ozelenelo, `ivotiwe su se probudile iz zimskog sna. Za decu je to bila"obecana zemlja".
    Toga jutra, krenuli smo na reku, koja se sve vise sirila i koja je  od nas otimala  poljanu i rit i cinila ih nepristupacnim za nas, sve dok se velika vodena grdosija ne umilostivi i ne povuce se u svoje korito. Mi smo zurili da sto vise otmemo od  reke  i da se sto vise  nauzivamo u ovom daru prirode.
    Deca tada u skoli nismu imala predmet "poznavanje prirode", ali su prirodu vrlo dobro poznavali. Bili su pravi botanicari i zoolozi. Nije bilo biljke niti zivog stvora o kojem nisu znali vise nego sto bilo koja enciklopedija  pise. 
    Usled nabujale vode, zivotinje su se vrtoglavom brzinom povlacile. Mi smo se popeli na jednu uzvisicu. Voda je bila vec sasvim blizu. Zivotinje verovatno imaju osesanje, koje ih nepogresivo vodi bas na ovu uzvisicu. Tako se dogodilo, da smo se nasli u istom momentu na istom mestu desetak decaka  i bezbroj najrazlicitijih vrsta sitnih zivotinja. Pravi prirodni zooloski vrt. Bio je to vrlo gusto naseljen predeo. "Nojeva barka". Gomile raznih vrsta buba, svih boja i oblika, mrava, cvrcaka i svitaca, svih velicina, miseva, sitnih krznasica, lasica, puhova, pacova, hrckova, vodenih pacova, vidri, puzeva, jezeva, kornjaca, krtica, buba svaba i zmija, raznih velicina, nasle su se sve na jednom mestu. Mnoge od njih su bile oci u oci sa svojim pridodnim neprijateljem. Ptice su letele nisko iznad vode. Po koje gnezdo je plivalo na talasima. Nasla se tu i "seoska" roda, koja se upravo vratila sa svog dalekog putovanja iz juznih krajeva, a koja je imala gnezdo na vrh crkvenog tornja. I ona je ovde, u ritu bila "svojim poslom", znate vec kojim, a znaju to i zabe. Rojevi musica i raznih krilatih insekata su leteli i upadali nam u oci i nos.
    Niko od nas se nije plasio. Cak se ni zmije nismo plasili. Naprotiv. Bilo nam je zadovoljstvo da ih lovimo. Njih smo smatrali svojim neprijateljima, kao i neprijateljima ostalih sitnih zivotinja, pa smo ih sa zadovoljstvom lovili. One su ovaj zbeg koristile da bi se spasle, a ujedno su i lovile, sta bi stigle. Odmah smo pronasli stapove, kamenice i ko je vec sta dohvatio i poceli da se od njih branimo. U tome su svi osim mene imali iskustva i znali smo kako im treba prici,  sa koje strane i  kako ih  uhvatiti. Cesto su  ih lovili i stavljali u staklene boce. I mene su ovoj vestini obucili. Zmija je, cini mi se, bilo u najvecem broju od svih  ostalih  zivotinjskih  vrsta u zbegu ili smo ih uocavali, jer su bile najopasnije od svih stanovnika rita.
     Nasu paznju je skrenuo neobican krik, koji je dopirao iz rita i to bas iz onog dela  rita, u koji deca nikada nisu odlazila, jer su im pricali da tu negde u gustisu zbunja, drveca i trske, u "zivom blatu", zivi krilati crni konj. Mi smo krilatog vranca zamisljali svako na svoj nacin i svi su tvrdili da su  ga bar jednom videli negde u daljini u sumraku, ali niko u to nije bio bas sasvim  siguran. Jedino su svi  bili sigurni da se u taj deo rita ne sme ici.
    Upravo ta zabrana je i predstavljala najveci izazov, a kada se tome doda  krik koji odatle dopire, masta se budi, a i zelja da se otkrije nepoznato postaje nesavladiva.
    Odmah smo krenuli u tom pravcu. Nista nismo govorili. Bilo je tu i straha, ne mogu da kazem, ali bilo je i avanturistickog duha, koji je bio jaci. Trcali smo preko poljane, prolazili kroz siblje, travu, zaobilazili krda goveda koja su se tu napasala. Polako smo se priblizavali zoni koja je bila zarasla trskom i koja je bila zabranjena. Krik je bio sve glasniji, jer smo mi bili sve blizi. Ocekivali smo svakoga momenta da se pojavi krilati vranac i da proleti iznad nas. Kada smo zasli u trstik, sasvim smo se ucutali. Tlo je bilo vlazno i nailazili smo na bare koje smo do sada vesto zaobilazili. Odjednom, iz sibqa izlete neka zivotinja. Polegali smo na zemlju jedan preko drugog. Zacula se samo vriska, zbog iznenadjenja, a zatim... tajac. To je trajalo neko vreme, dok nismo sa sigurnoscu ustanovili da je u pitawu bila jarebilca. Ustali smo ohtabreni sto smo preziveli ovaj napad i krenuli dalje. Medjutim, pred nama je bila povelika bara, bolje receno, zasli smo u mocvaru. Polako smo, gazeci vodu otisli do najblizeg drveta i popeli se na njega. Odgore smo videli da se nedaleko od ovog mesta nesto pomera i promalja iz dubokog blata. Nakon par sekundi, ugledali smo volovsku glavu sa rogovima, culi jos jedan krik. Na povrsini se pojavilo nekoliko vazdusnih mehura, a zatim... tisina.
    Bio je to jedan vo, koji se izdvojio iz krda sa pasnjaka, upao u  "zivo blato" i nestao. 
    Bili smo razocarani sto nismo videli krilatog konja. Gde li je on tada odleteo, gde se krio, da li je i on doziveo istu sudbinu kao i vo? Da li je krilati vranac ikada postojao, ili su ga izmislili odrasli, da bi decu sprecili da se setaju ovim opasnim terenom, prepunim rupa i dubokih jama punih blata u narodu poznatih kao "zivo blato"?
    Odgovore na ova pitanja nismo dobili, ali kada smo se vratili u selo, niko od nas nije ovaj neobican dozivljaj ispricao na isti nacin. I jos nesto. Niko nije priznao da se krilati konj nije pojavljivao. Naprotiv. Svi su samo o njemu pricali najneobicnije price.

Olivera Jelkic

NASTAVAK SLEDECEG MESECA...
 

    The children of Grandpaland had many toys. Their parents didn't buy those toys. They were made by children or found in their surroundings.
    There wasn't a single child who didn't own a "ragball", I think.
    "Ragball" was a special kind of ball, similar to those of today, only it was made of rags. Its outer layer was sewn with a strong thread but sometimes not strong enough, so it would tear up easily if hit too hard. That caused its contents spilling out, all over the field. The n the child would take it to his mother for repairing. When mom sewed its wounds made on the football field the ragball was once again ready for the new games.
    I liked that ball so much that I wanted to change my roller blades for it, but nobody wanted to trade.
 

QUICKSAND

    It was spring and the snow had already melted. The Danube started to rise and began to flood the wide plain, which separated river from the village. Field and marsh between the river and the village became alive. Everything turned green. Animals started to wake up from winter sleep. To the children it was the” Promised Land.”
    That morning we went to the river that grew wider and wider, stealing the field and the marsh from us, making them unreachable before the great water induces mercy in itself and retreats back to its riverbed. We were in a hurry to grab as much as we could from it and enjoy in this gift of nature.
    In those days children didn't study biology but were very well acquainted with nature. They were excellent botanists and zoologists; there wasn't a single plant or a living creature they didn't know about more than what could be found in any encyclopedia. 
    Due to the flooding water the animals were retreating in a great speed. We climbed up a hill. The water got quite close to it. Animals probably had a feeling that unmistakably led them to this hill. That is how we got ourselves together with them, at the same place and the same time, ten boys and numerous kinds of small animals. It was a true natural zoological garden, overcrowded like the Noah's ark. A bunch of different kinds of insects of all colors, shapes and sizes, ants, crickets and fireflies, tiny fury animals like mice, weasels, dormice, rats, hamsters, otters, snails, groundhogs, turtles, cockroaches, and snakes of all sizes were all in one place. Many of them were face to face with their natural enemies. Birds were flying low above water. Few nests drifted on waves. There was also the "village's" stork, which had just completed its long journey back from the south and nested on top of the church tower. It, too, came to the marsh "on business", you know what kind of business, and so did the frogs. Swarms of gnats and other flying insects were getting into our eyes and nostrils.
    No one was afraid, not even from the snakes. On the contrary, we enjoyed catching them. We considered them to be our enemies, as well as enemies of other small animals, so we found pleasure in catching them. They used this refuge to survive and at the same time they were catching each animal they could. We grabbed sticks and stones and started to defend ourselves. Everyone but me had previous experience in that, and knew from which side to approach them in order to catch them. Other children often caught snakes and put them into glass jars. They taught me how to do it, too. It seemed that snakes outnumbered the other animals at the shelter, or they were just spotted more easily. They were the most dangerous animals in the marsh.
    An unusual scream coming from the marsh got hold of our attention. It came from that part of the marsh that children never visited, because they were told that a black horse with wings lived in the "quicksand" that was hidden in the bushes behind the trees and the reed. Everyone imagined it in his own way and claimed he had seen it at least once, somewhere in the distance, away in the dusk, only, no one was quite sure about it. The only thing everybody agreed upon was that that part of the marsh was forbidden.
    That prohibition presented the greatest challenge of all, and when the scream coming from there had been added to it, the imagination with a desire to reveal the unknown became uncontrollable.
    We went toward that place right away. We didn't talk at all. There was fear, too, but the adventurous spirit prevailed. We ran across the field, passed the bushes, went around herds of cows in the pasture. We were getting closer to the area covered with reeds and forbidden to us. The scream became louder as we got closer. We expected from the black horse to show up every moment and fly over our heads. We silently entered the reeds. The ground was wet and we were coming across the puddles, which we could no longer avoid. Suddenly an animal flew out of the bushes and we all lied down on the ground one on top of the other. At first only screaming, because of the surprise, could be heard, and then ... silence. It lasted for a while, until we were quite certain that it had only been a partridge. We got up encouraged by the fact that we had survived the attack and moved on. However there was a large puddle in front of us, or to put it better: we got into the swamp. Slowly walking through the water we came to the nearest tree and climbed on it. We saw something moving and sticking out of deep mud. After a few seconds we saw an ox's head with horns and heard another scream. Few bubbles appeared on the surface and then there was silence.
    That was an ox, which had separated from the herd, got into the quicksand, and disappeared.
 We were disappointed because we hadn't seen the horse with wings. Where did he fly to, where was he hiding? Did he share the ox's fate? Did the black horse ever exist? Or was it invented by adults only to prevent children from going through this dangerous area full of holes and quicksand?
    We didn't get answers to these questions, but when we returned to the village no one told the same about this unusual adventure. And no one admitted that the horse never showed up. On the contrary, everyone kept telling the most unusual stories about it.

Olivera Jelkic
Translation: Marina Milutinovic

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT MONTH...
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