Love and Void

By Olga Toprover

Dasha is a woman who stops aging at 25 because of a curse hanging over her family. This is just a side effect of witchcraft, the aim of which was to force Dasha and all women in her family to suffer from love and from never being loved in return.
"They will live with that unrequited love, which would be a torture. It will turn into their pain, obsession and sickness. Time will not heal them. Minutes and years would stretch to lengthen their sadness. There will no escape from love. Exhausted by that love, they will be seeking a way out. There will be just one escape, just one..."
Dasha is trying to find a way to stop the witchcraft. She witnesses wars, and leaders who come and go, promising new horizons and tearing off the thin threads of hope. To solve her mother's secrets she has to connect the dots between past and present, traveling to various cities and even countries. Her sister Anna is suffering because of love and Dasha herself cannot escape her fate. Can she beat the darkness and change her life? Will she be able to find happiness in the ocean of suffering and frustration?
Readers who are moved by a combination of fantasy, drama and romance will find this book interesting. The concept of “Love and Void” was partly inspired by “The Enchanters” (1973) by a French writer Romain Gary.
A plot with a similar idea of an ageless woman was used in Hollywood, in the movie “The Age of Adaline” (2015).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Olga Toprover
• Release date: May 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463145258

Olga Toprover

Olga Toprover was born in Russia, lived in Canada for a few years, but currently resides in Los Angeles. Olga holds Master Degree in Computer Science from Moscow State University. She is also a published media author.Her scientific education and journalistic experience as well as living in different cities and countries formed her into the science fiction writer she is today. One of her favorite themes is robots and their role in our future. But never mind the technical aspect, Olga believes that true literature is about people instead of the advances of science and technology. Her stories, above all, are about us.Besides creating fantastic new worlds, Olga loves swing dancing, swimming in the ocean and spending time with her children.

Book preview

Love and Void

A mystical love story

Olga Toprover

Edited by Evangeline Auld

Illustration by Dez Pain

Copyright © 2013-2016 Olga Toprover

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Pines of My Childhood

Chapter 2: Glafira’s Life

Chapter 3: Lisa’s revolution

Chapter 4: Anna’s Choir

Chapter 5. Dear and Beloved

Chapter 6: A Catastrophe

Chapter 7: Pervading Sorrow

Chapter 8: The War and a Circus

Chapter 9: The Ginger Cat

Chapter 10: Life Goes on

Chapter 11: The White Night

Chapter 12: Breaking the Shackles

Chapter 13: There Are So Many Songs…

Chapter 14: The Spring

Chapter 15: The Fog Absorbs It All

Chapter 16: But I Said: Don’t Lie!

Chapter 17: The End of the Prague Spring

Chapter 18: The Sexual Revolution

Chapter 19: The Ward Number Six

Chapter 20: The Other Dasha

Chapter 21: Paris Mystery

Chapter 22: The Tanks were Moving

Chapter 23: A Witch?

Chapter 24: Roman

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

"I was told there was an unpublished novel," he made an effort to smile.

The agent, who tried too hard to look younger with her unnaturally blond hair, opened a drawer, took USB drive from there and gave it to him:

"Read!"

"You wish! He grinned. I don’t read women’s fiction. The publisher is offering pretty good money, that’s why I am here…"

"If so I can’t help you, the agent said coyly. You don’t hold the rights!"

"How come? I hold publishing rights to everything written by her."

"To everything, that has been published!"

"I don’t get it! His eyebrows went up. How can it be?"

"Don’t worry too much, you will be able to sell the manuscript, she seemed to sympathize with him now. But first you have to read it."

"Nonsense."

"Nonsense or not, this is what she wanted. Read the manuscript and I'll hand you a paper confirming your rights."

"You see, he frowned. The publisher is offering an advance, and I really need the money. I need it to go for an internship to Paris. This might be the only chance I have. I will never have another chance, do you get it? Never!

"I get it, but what can I do? She shrugged. It was her wish."

"Come on. I can just tell you I read it all, that’s it!" He chuckled.

"Nope, it would not work. She came up with a quiz on the book. Pass the test and you’ll get the publishing rights."

"Wow… He shook his head. It’s like I am back in school! Crazy… And I desperately need the money! On Monday!"

"Well, why are you wasting time then? You have two days. Take the stick and go home to read."

"Looks like I don’t have a choice…" He sighed.

Chapter 1: The Pines of My Childhood

Nobody ever told me about the curse hanging over our family. Like the pieces of a bizarre puzzle, I gradually opened the mystery on my own: because of halfheartedly told words, aloof facial expressions or sighs, which were hiding doomed thoughts. Always knowing we were far from ordinary, I stubbornly unfolded fact after fact, trying to find an explanation as to why things were happening the way they were. Now, I am almost sure that I kept doing it because of the pines: they were whispering the truth to me. Of course! They were there from the very beginning of this incredible story.

Our house was on the edge of a small village, and the forest came right up to the walls. The village was called Dalniy. In Russian this name means Far Away, and the place fully justified its name, to a large extent reflecting the mood of inhabitants. We happened to stay away from the world as if forgotten by all. The forest surrounded us.

The pines were in charge in that corner of the world. A long time ago they superseded maples, lindens and birches. Slender grasses barely made their way through the rich and soft carpet of fragrant dry needles. It was a heavy forest, though you wouldn’t call it primeval: seeping through thorny branches sunbeams were able to find their way to the land. The pine forest remained in my memory, bright and friendly. That smell dazzled me! Even today wherever I go, I find it everywhere, catch a bit of it everywhere – that amazing and unique aroma of my childhood... I guess I have always kept that scented softwood somewhere deep inside and was carrying it with me my whole life, in spite of the incomprehensible number of years, months, days, minutes and seconds that separate me from that girl, that dreamer, who loved to lie down under the branches of luxurious pine.

Everything is possible when you are a child. You take a couple of steps from the fence - and reddish trunks, as if they are your pals, gather around you at once. Actually they were my real friends. With them, I laughed and cried. I even came up with nice names for some of them! Though most of the names faded from memory long time ago, it is impossible to forget the real friends. There were four. Fyodor proudly lifted his crown high into the sky. Nearby stayed Senka, who was not tall at all, but he definitely looked like a strong one with his heavy muscular trunk. These two were the most reliable soldiers-defenders in the whole world. Of course, it was only me who they were supposed to rescue. Close by grew coquette Maryanka in her bell-bottomed dress and slim shy Fekla. They were my dear girlfriends who could be trusted with the greatest secrets of a child.

I loved to read fairy tales next to them, and often even invented my own stories. Of course it was me who was playing the role of a beautiful princess. Sometimes I found myself lost in the woods, sometimes - abandoned here by enemies of the Tenth Kingdom. My imagination seemed to be almost infinite. It didn’t matter though how exactly the princess made it into the dense forest. Ah, yes, in the fairy tale the woods were impenetrable! So it didn’t matter how I came there after all. The ending was the same every time. A handsome prince always rescued me, every single time. Coincidence or not, but the prince found his fiancé, end of story. The savior came from behind the trunks with a backpack on his shoulders. You know, it is impossible to imagine a young man riding a white horse in the pine tree forest. So I decided, once and forever: my Prince will be a hiker, as I was one. He seemed to be woven from our pine forest and its fragrance. Later I got to comprehend that my fairy-tale hero was nothing else but my second half. That’s why he also loved the forest.

Sometimes the prince came early in the morning, when the dew on the grass was still there, untouched, and the moist air multiplied the scent of the forest. In other tales, the prince appeared in the forest at sunset, when the pines quieted down in anticipation of magic night. I was inventing incredible stories in a variety of circumstances. However, as I said, whatever happened in the story, my hero always found me. No wonder, every little girl dreams about a handsome prince: either on a white horse or in a fancy car or just on foot... Anyway, he had to be strong, kind and capable of love.

Of course, it is every girl’s dream. I was no different from others kids. In the imaginary world I was the object of admiration, adoration, even worship. My long-faded cotton dress had been made by my grandma using the only annoying pattern she knew. But in my fantasies it turned into silk, brocade and lace. I could stand on tiptoe, and my colorless slippers would become beautiful red shoes with high heels. It doesn’t matter that it was only a fairy tale. If my dreams were so wonderful, then why would I need the drab days of reality?

Meanwhile, the others appeared to think of me as of a strange and lonely child, because no one knew I was not alone, I was with Fyodor, Senka, Maryanka and Fekla. I kept my secret carefully. I was afraid that as soon as anyone found out about my friends, the magic might disappear as if it never existed.

Strange girl she is turning into, said grandma. Antisocial... How can we convince someone to marry her?

No need to convince anybody, I was indignant. Try to convince me first!

Well, Dasha, of course, nobody is going to give you away against your will. She smiled. "But it is not good for a girl of your age to wander in the forest all day long! You might consider staying with people sometimes.

I nodded, and grandma's sermons were hanging in the air without a reply, so I was left alone for a while. Still, one day my big sister Anna betrayed my great secret:

She talks to the pines in the forest! They have names too.

Her words sounded to me like thunder from a clear sky. I hadn't thought before that Anna would spy on me. I had no idea that my fantasy world was so fragile. It was terrible: what if I went back to the forest - and my pine friends were not there. All of it would evaporate and disappear like a pure dream.

Good! At least the girl can talk to someone! Grandma was laughing. Or something.

All right, leave her alone, Anna suddenly turned into a defender.

Later, when they both forgot about this conversation, I didn’t. I was looking out of the window at the sky with its drifting white fluffy clouds, trying to understand the fragility of my pine brotherhood.

Next day I went to the forest. I woke up early. I tiptoed outside when the old house was asleep. I took a few steps barefoot, not to make a sound and be caught. Then I walked around the house and headed down the path leading to my kingdom. I walked slowly and was ready for anything. Meanwhile the forest was calling me with the usual morning silence and a light breeze. Fyodor, Senka, Maryanka and Fekla were waiting for me as always. Nothing changed.

It turned out that I worried for nothing! The magic remained. My sister was ten years older than me and of course she had forgotten her childhood, moved on... She didn’t remember that she had had her stories too and waited for her prince to come. My older sister managed to forget that the world of childhood is incredibly fragile. That is why, as an adult, Anna had no idea what a big secret of mine she was giving away. It is a sort of paradox that it was the reason why my fantasy was safe. Anna looked at me from the outside, she was not in my world any more, that's all.

But just in case, I still looked around to check whether that spy was somewhere nearby, and didn’t spot her. Obviously it was not in Anna’s plans to watch me. She was busy with something else. Actually, she never took me seriously, and this is what I needed now. I sighed with relief and said to my friends:

What a beautiful day, don’t you think?

And interrupting each other they talked about the sun, the wind and the full moon last night - that night, which I slept through. What a shame…

Sometimes, however, we would come to the forest with grandma. I passed my friends in silence, winking secretly to Maryanka, as she stood near the trail. Grandma took me down the path, further and further – to the place where pines would retreat in front of a lake opening on to a sunlit meadow. Various plants were growing there, and my grandmother knew a lot about them. She could stay in the meadow near the lake for hours, trying to discover new herbs. Sometimes I thought I lost her. But all I needed was to look back – and somewhere in the grass my eyes spotted her bright shawl with the scarlet poppies. I wouldn’t lose her!

By the way, I would not be surprised to learn that grandma could talk to the plants - well, that's just how I was with trees. However, if she spoke their language, she was carefully hiding it from me. I tried to sneak up on her unexpectedly, but even if I heard something, at that very moment the sounds would turn into the wind, or into the bird singing. I never knew if she was hiding such a secret or whether it was just my imagination that was turning life into something more colorful.

We always came back with a light fragrant basket filled out with herbs. St. John's Wort was for stomach trouble and producing a good mood; thyme treated sciatica and coughs; lemon balm helped to get rid of colds and improved appetite; chamomile was for treating wounds and cuts; rose hips made awesome tea. This was just a small part of the herbs grandma brought home, but how I could remember them all through the days, months, years and centuries...

The plants were sorted into bundles and hung to dry in the barn, hidden from the summer sun. There was more there. Slices of apples and prunes that were strung on a thread were drying there also. I loved to take a look inside, inhaling the odorous air, to tear off a piece of an apple and to put it on the tongue as a special delicacy. Then, chewing the sweetish pulp, I managed to sniff each bundle separately, recognizing the herbal aroma: such as sour smells, pine, and some strangely unfamiliar. Some herbs exuded joy and sorrow; the other flavors seemed sad or romantic. There were morning and evening odors, summer and autumn fragrances. All that diversity greatly contributed to the happiness of my wonderful childhood.

Time went by and Anna remained indifferent to my trees. The existence of my magical world didn’t depend on her knowledge of it. Rather, this knowledge did not mean anything. It's very simple: you believe in pines or you don’t. I was not afraid to reveal the secret anymore, so one day I tried to bring my school friends to the forest. Lena and Luda lived on the other end of the street; I made friends with them willy-nilly. There was no school in Dalniy, so every day we had to walk five kilometers to get our education. The road ran through the forest, so we were told to walk to school together – this way this seemed safer to the adults. I played this game just to calm everyone down. In fact, in the forest, I felt at home. I didn’t need any companions. I strongly believed that nothing bad could happen in my world.

Lena and Lyuda were thick as thieves. They laughed all the time, and I must say, I loved it. Would you agree that laughing is always better than crying, even when there might be a reason for tears? And, anyway, what reason can there be if you are a little girl? So I revealed to them my secret. I brought the girls on the trail and pointed to a pine tree by the roadside.

Her name is Maryanka, I said.

What is going on? asked Lyuda.

Dasha, are you saying this pine is bewitched? said Lena.

Bewitched? I was surprised. "It’s just her name! Look at her flared skirt and how coyly Maryanka bends with the wind. Don’t you think this name suits her?

I had already opened my mouth to say that Maryanka could talk but suddenly changed my mind: Lena had burst into laughter and Lyuda was supporting her friend. I looked up at Maryanka. The pine tilted her unruly crown as if reproachful. Sudden wind gust, as if nothing had happened, immediately straightened her up. But I still managed to catch her message. It was an excellent lesson for me that any friendship has its limitations. We are alone in this world. It doesn’t happen very often when we are understood by others. Only pines can be true friends.

You probably think I'm crazy? I asked.

Of course, no, Lena said through her laughter.

You can be open with us, we know that you are bewitched, added Lyuda seriously.

What?! I was surprised.

Come on, everyone knows about it! Lena said.

What is there to know? I muttered.

Don’t you play games! exclaimed Lyuda. They say there is a curse hanging over your grandmother!

Well, it was too much! I turned and quickly strode away. I did not want them to laugh at me, especially here, in my woods, next to my pine pals. I knew Senka and Fyodor were not interested in gossip. But Maryanka and Fekla were clearly shaking their tops quite sympathetically. They felt sorry for me. I thought that the next day I might find more gum than usual on their trunks, because the amber resin is the pine’s bitter conifer tears. No, I don’t want them to cry! And I found myself briskly walking home.

Anna was sitting on the bench in front of the house. You could see her there all the time. She was reading a book or just looking into space as she was dreaming.

Anna, the girls were talking about sorcery or stuff like that, I said. It's true?

Who was it?

Lena and Lyuda.

You have nothing better to do but to listen to those silly things! She demanded, as if recalling herself from her own thoughts.

They think everyone knows, I said, and felt right away that my treacherous eyes grew moist. It’s like grandma is enchanted.

Oh my God, who knows what ideas people might come up with! my sister replied indifferently. They are probably bored, that’s where their gossip is coming from.

Aren’t you bored sitting here?

No, I'm not, she laughed. I was waiting for you.

It was not enough of an explanation for me. I immediately figured out that Anna must have her own secret. After all, she was my sister. So, we are supposed to be alike. It is interesting that I was not thinking about similarity in our faces. It was about personality: the same explanation of similar emotions, the need to have something different from our boring reality, even if it came from the imagination. However, we didn’t look alike at all. But I will return to this later.

I wouldn’t say that I forgot about that talk. Watching my grandmother, I tried to find evidence of a curse or something remotely associated with divination. Meanwhile, she was the same as always, the same grandma I knew: always doing errands, or cooking, or busy with something. Trying to catch grandma unexpectedly, I would run up to her and catch her hand. Sometimes I followed her when she was going to milk our cow Zorka. I would stand behind her back and wait. Who knew, while I was alone with her, the magic might spill over, bringing the mystical electric power to me and opening that elusive magical mystery!

But nothing like that ever happened. Grandma always kindly replied to my probing. Her palms were strong and rough, like the bark of a pine tree that had seen it all in its life time. A comparison like this one was bringing me back from insanity to reality. What could be that sorcery about? I thought. That's my grandma, I've known her all my life. Perhaps the secret was hidden in my grandmother's knowledge of herbs? But she was not the only one in the world who had the gift to understand nature. There, near the lake, I thought she was whispering something to the herbs. But who could say? I myself am talking to the pines all the time. Nevertheless, my own fantasies about the forest were completely innocent, they didn’t have a supernatural flavor. Therefore even if grandma was talking to herbs, you wouldn’t call it a miracle.

I stopped asking about the curse and kept my secret about pines to myself. Once when we were passing by my pine pals, Lena nodded toward Maryanka and asked:

Dasha, what’s the name of this pine tree? It’s Mary, isn’t it?

Which tree are you talking about? was my answer.

This one, you told us yourself, remember? Lyuda defended her friend.

Nope, I don’t, I shrugged.

Wow! They said in unison.

At this moment, I happened to walk under Maryanka’s crown, and she threw at my feet a little tapered cone. It was a good sign, which meant she approved! I took the cone and dipped it in the backpack, for my good luck.

Chapter 2: Glafira’s Life

The greatest beauty in us begins in our childhood, when the soul is wide open to the world, when we speak the language of plants and birds, when our brain absorbs the beauty of the world every day and every minute. The most memorable moments in the early days of my life happened to be connected with the forest and my grandmother.

Her name was Glafira. She was born a long time ago, in 1867. Perhaps you, dear reader, are thinking that years and decades are messed up a great deal in my poor head. And you might take a calculator, or even better, a smart phone and then would start counting, whether it was possible. Are you saying, maybe it's not a grandmother, but great-grandmother or even great-great-grandmother? I want to warn you: just believe my story for now. Do not assume and don’t calculate. However, when I finish writing this story, everything will fall into place, and there will be nothing to surprise you. It is absolutely true that my beloved grandmother Glafira, or Glasha, was born on March 30, 1867.

That date turned out to be a significant one. On that day the Russian ambassador in the United States signed an agreement for the sale of Alaska to the United States for seven million dollars. It turned out that Russia lost Alaska, but has gained my grandmother on that day. Was it some sort of a sign of destiny? Glafira was the sixth child in a large peasant family. She lived an ordinary and relatively quiet life. None of the powerful people ever knew her name. But perhaps such a coincidence, after all, was somehow a sign that neither my grandmother nor those who knew her, never recognized? One mystical coincidence is not enough, if people don’t understand what it means.

Anyway, country people had no idea about Alaska or selling the land to the United States. Grandma was not aware of this either. When she was eighteen Ignat, a boy from the neighboring village, fell in love with her, and she loved him too. Glasha was the happiest girl in the world, when matchmakers showed up at their house. Glasha and Ignat were a nice couple: both tall, slim and good looking. Live and rejoice! However, people are not pines: there is always someone with envy trying to spoil the happiness of others..

This is exactly what happened. The neighbor girl Zina, who had laid eyes on Ignat long time before, could not accept the fact that he gave his heart to someone else. Perhaps, Zina's love was crazy… Also it could have been the case that envy played its tricks on her – no one remembers this now. Anyway, she came to Glasha and told her that Ignat loved her, Zina, every night in July, leaving for Glasha only stories. Glasha cried all day. But she saw Ignat that evening and when she looked into his eyes realized that Zina was lying, that was a fact, and she said nothing to her loved one.

In a couple of days Zina came up with more lies for Ignat. She told him that she saw his bride on the river bank, having fun with a tall man, Vasya. The world became a dark place for Ignat at that moment. He went straight to Vasya, who was so surprised that Ignat hesitated right away. He knew Vasya was not afraid of him, because he was twice as high and one and a half times wider across his shoulders than Ignat. Athletes are always distinguished by the fact that they tell the plain truth, because there is no need to twist words, they are