Happy Ending Is Put on Ice

By Asya Pekurovskaya

The story develops in the unassailable Granite Mountain and the blossoming Lemon Drop Valley. The daughter of the Granite Mountain's king is abducted by the vicious dwarf Zhabrey. As the royal vizier pledges to catch the abductor, the king unveils the secret of a hidden path between Granite Mountain and Lemon Drop Valley. Our hero, Spark, overhears the conversation and takes the task upon himself. He finds the princess, loses her twice and ends up guarding her in captivity. From Spark, she learns the hidden place of the magic machine that helps her to return to Lemon Drop Valley. By rescuing herself, she breaks faith with Spark. But dutiful Spark persists with his mission of catching the princess' abductor. He suffers one fiasco after another until he, finally, intercepts the cunning dwarf. The story has a two-fold ending, a truthful and a deceptive one. One of them will allow the author to stick to her guns and publish the sequel to Spark's adventure. "It mesmerizes like a dream with unpredictable landscapes, emerging at every step of its plot." - A. Usachev, poet, children writer "… The beauty of this bold creation consists in that we can never say for sure whether the hero is immersed in a wonderful dream or he experiences everything for real…" - O. Bulgakowa, Professor of Film - Gutenberg University, Mayence, Germany "The author provides an intriguing twist on many concepts of fantasy with her own Lemon Drop Valley, with her own brand of magic and wonder… The incredible anime-influenced illustrations of high artistic quality and daring, enhanced, imaginative, action-oriented characters and plot twists." - James A. Cox, Editor-in-Chief, Midwest Book Review "This cryptic, undying tale of a magical author will not disappoint either real children or the child in older readers… Beautifully illustrated in full color, the art animates alien worlds that are new yet simultaneously familiar terrain, as the courageous and charming hero, Spark, is torn between Granite Mountain and Lemon Drop Valley." - A. Gendler-Schmitt, editor - Evanston, Illinois, USA "A fantasy story in the tradition of the Brothers Grimm, Hans Andersen and J.R.R. Tolkien written by Russian author Asya Pekurovskaya and lovingly, creatively illustrated by Olga Titova!" - Judith Nasse, author, teacher, critic - Taos, New Mexico, USA "I loved the definition of burlesque and the musings on Nothing…. The ending - which, like the thoughts about nothing, is quite Shakespearian - is a tour de force, playfully refusing the obvious or anticipated conclusion." - Hellen Wilcox, Professor of English at Bangor University - Wales, UK

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jan 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781528969345

Asya Pekurovskaya

Asya Pekurovskaya is a published Russian author living in Germany and America. Her book of memoirs and three monographs were published by the leading Russian publishers, Symposium (1999), New Literary Observer (2004) and Alethea (2010, 2017), respectively. Seven years ago, she started to write a fantasy titled Happy Ending Is Put on Ice in two languages (Russian and English) and completed it with the illustrations by Olga Titova, a British Academy Award recipient for her work on Canterbury Tales.

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Trial

About the Author

Asya Pekurovskaya is a published Russian author living in Germany and America. Her book of memoirs and three monographs were published by the leading Russian publishers, Symposium (1999), New Literary Observer (2004) and Alethea (2010, 2017), respectively. Seven years ago, she started to write a fantasy titled Happy Ending Is Put on Ice in two languages (Russian and English) and completed it with the illustrations by Olga Titova, a British Academy Award recipient for her work on Canterbury Tales.

Dedication

To Stella

Copyright Information ©

Asya Pekurovskaya (2020)

The right of Asya Pekurovskaya to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528937948 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528937955 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781528969345 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

I thank Sergey Shats for inauguration and Aida Zyablikova for criticism and encouragement.

Tale One

Sand and Granite

No matter whence the morning wind blew…

And the morning wind blew from everywhere. If you happened to linger at a crossroad (and crossroads exist for you just to linger, as you know), you would learn at once about everything in the world and even about what had never occurred to you before.

It is also vital to mark that, at the crossroads, you normally stand with your head thrown back and see the sky, which holds fancy bouquets in its arms. These are arboreal branches that you do not usually notice when you wonder randomly, head down. And now, when you stand at a crossroad, you are swarmed with covert problems and challenges.

Don’t you think it’s bizarre that Lemon Drop Valley doesn’t come up with a single lemon drop? you ask a boy with straw hair standing next to you.

Well, ‘lemon drops’, just like ‘Cerberus’ or ‘Unicorn’ are just words. And words are sprouting in the heads of daydreamers prior to…

Then the green light was turned on. And you went your way in a hurry, alas, offering no thanks to the boy with straw hair.

True, you had all reasons to rush because your path led you to Lemon Drop Valley, which rested against the immutable ridge of Granite Mountain.

The ridge could turn turtle, you know, trying to entice the castle to turn turtle as well. So, the castle had to fasten on, that is, to concentrate, of course. What else could it do if it was made of ice drops, which piled up, turning into pointed walls and towers. And all this could collapse at any moment and blanket the entire valley together with its blossoming luxury.

But we almost forgot to mention the morning wind whose business was to deliver not just the thingummies of all sorts, obviously not the smell of the sea, that was missing, not even the forest aroma, that was in abundance in Lemon Drop Valley, but, imagine! A mysterious melody resembling an anthem.

The icy cloud hides your sheltered ledge.

Oh, Granite Mountain, we stay as your cortège.

Like you, we’re made of massive stones,

With you, we harmonies and tone.

If your head’s hard as a rocket,

Check for answers in your pockets.

If your pockets grow bare,

Don’t rebuff. Accept the dare.

We don’t give a hoot

Of mausoleum

We ballyhoo

Our King, Spark Ley

And while the anthem-like melody hovered in the air and while the upturned mountain was throwing the inverted ridge along with the inverted castle in your face, you fancied the figures of court musicians in powdered wigs that looked like barristers in courts of law.

True, instead of sitting in the courts, the ‘barristers’ made music, playing a bassoon, an Armenian duduk, and even a magical instrument that no one had yet come up with a name.

Yet, аs soon as music silenced, the royal castle would vanish from the view and you no longer doubted that the castle was just an idle fantasy.

And exactly then a terrible kidnapping took place. An offender deprived the Granite Mountain king of his only daughter, Princess Stella.

And that’s how it happened.

One day, two spur-winged geese landed on top of Granite Mountain. Why did they leave Africa and went for such a tiresome and dangerous journey was unknown? And since the geese, or, rather, huge birds with long legs and spurs on the sides, as the spur-winged geese have, were never seen on Granite Mountain, the stonemasons were terribly frightened and hid themselves in their dwellings, moving stone blinders to their eyes.

Of course, it would be crazy to suspect the spur–winged geese in scaring the stonemasons. After all, riding on the geese, were two inventors and a music box.

Should the inventors have no music box, the events might have developed differently. And this thought should be kept in mind.

The music box produced a tune of Princess Turandot, the opera, that Puccini failed to finish. But as soon as the stonemasons heard the melody from the unfinished opera, they moved the blinders to their ears the same way as they did to the eyes.

And this had most unforeseen consequences.

The stonemasons became indistinguishable from the boulders, and the inventors were quick to conclude that Granite Mountain was as inhabitable, as Antarctica or the Okunoshima Island.

I feel like a pilgrim of darkness here. This little hill is not exactly conducive to offering comforts to a traveler, said the first inventor.

Unless we erect a fabulous crystal palace here… the second inventor replied.

With the king and his successors… the first inventor agreed.

And they deferred no action.

Two spur-winged geese were dispatched with a task of delivering a king and his royal successor. As to the inventors, they busied themselves in constructing an icy palace for the future monarchs.

But why send two geese in search of just one king? you might ask. Well, you have to be mindful of the royal retinue, secret advisers, astrologers, couriers, cooks, acrobats, dancers, gardeners, watchmen, tailors, magicians, clowns and of course, chests with royal entourage, an orchestra pit for court musicians and all that the author’s memory did not bring about to keep.

When the spur-winged geese finally returned, gently lowering the carriages with the widowed king, the princess, secret advisors, astrologers, couriers, cooks, acrobats, dancers, gardeners, watchmen, tailors, magicians, clowns and, of course, with chests with royal entourage, orchestra pit for court musicians and all that the author’s memory did not bring about to keep, the gate of the ice palace opened before them.

All royal retinue rushed into the open gates, all but the young princess Stella who began to explore Granite Mountain, hopping from one boulder to the other and, without suspecting it, granted the eyesight to stonemasons with the toes of her dainty shoes.

While the king and his entourage were settling in the royal castle, the inventors tried to solve a philosophical question: What’s the use of the fact that time flies if it does not bring anything but boredom?

And they decided, concordantly, that the pleasure a theatre scene promised, would be well worth the effort. And so the theatrical scene arose before the royal castle, with the ramp, a curtain, a prompter’s box and an orchestra pit.

When the princess began to perform, the stonemasons rushed to regain their hearing by removing the blinders from their ears.

But their stone hearts started to palpitate only when something irreparable happened.

That evening, Stella rehearsed the Nesssum Dorma:

The Princess Turandot, the bride

Took many princes for a ride.

They hurried, forcing their way,

To royal castle. Holding sway,

A bachelor and a sturdy fella

Predicted Prince Calaf’s mellow

Noggin to fall in epilogue

(with Allah’s blessings) on the block.

But as soon as the prophecy was spelled for Prince Calaf, a menacing figure in a cloak and a red jockey cap flashed through the air…

The princess vanished and, in case your memory failed to keep it…that caused the stonemasons’ hearts to palpitate.

Yet the king was clapping in delight and started to grieve the abducted princess only much later. When he became aware of what happened, he had ordered the royal guard to immediately launch an investigation.

The investigation lasted twenty-four days. After all, the castle was protected by twenty-four walls of solid ice.

The morning of the twenty-fifth day, His Majesty received a report. The ice walls suffered an irreparable damage. Each wall bore a hole at the height of two feet and five inches from the ground.

That’s it! I recognize the evil dwarf’s ploy, His Majesty said in a weak voice, and leaned back in exhaustion.

It is hard to say how long did His Majesty lay motionless. But as soon as he began to show signs of life and even dropped down his feet, like all kings do when they come out of depression, the royal vizier was summoned to the throne room.

And now, it is time to reminisce about the true hero of our tale, the stone boy with straw hair.

He was called Spark or, to be exact… Spark was the name to which he responded.

You might ask: What’s the use of names to which no one responds?

Well, besides the ‘twittering’ names, to which all Granite Mountain folk responded, there were also ‘secret’ names, the meanings of which could be revealed in their deeds—that is, in their heroic pursuits.

When a stonemason accomplished a heroic deed, he was permitted to modify his ‘twittering’ name by adding a letter from his ‘secret’ one. And only the old king of Granite Mountain had a twittering name that coincided with his secret one.

He was called Pepper-Salt-Spark-Ley. That’s how many glorious deeds he performed in the course of his life!

But at present, Spark remained just a Spark, for besides the toys such as funny droplets, cubes and pyramids that he carved of precious minerals and set on the ledge of the rock, making it as elegant as a Christmas tree, he had no other