The Writers - & the Matryoshka Dolls

By P K Winston

Unlike any story you've read before, this novel is set in pre-Communist Russia in 1903 when an old man writes his final manuscript - a play about a young author trying to pen his first novel. The young man's novel tells of explorers who map the dark continent of Africa and their tales of adventure and danger. The old man's play describes an ordinary man who makes a life-changing decision that he ponders for the rest of his life. The old man lives through his writings, as his life heads toward dusk; it is his last chance to create something memorable - something legendary.

A book about life and the decisions one makes along the way, this novel explores what it means to be truly happy with one's past and accepting of one's future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781365794872

P K Winston

PK Winston has written many novels and short stories. Generally, these tales have a central human interest theme and can be taken simply as a great story or one with deeper meaning.Mr. Winston is a pseudonym used by the author, and he lives with his family in Chicago.

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The Writers - & the Matryoshka Dolls

The Writers

& The Matryoshka Dolls

A Short Novel by

P K Winston

Blue M Publishing, LLC - Chicago

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-publication data

Names: P K Winston.

Title: The Writers - & The Matryoshka Dolls |Description: First edition (ePub) | Blue M Publishing, Chicago, IL [2017] | Contents: The Writers - & The Matryoshka Dolls | Summary: A story within a story within a story. Story about a playwright writing a play about an author writing a novel. Each story is intertwined and work toward a common ending. | Audience Note: Recommended for readers fifteen and older | Language Note: Infrequent offensive language. Identifiers: ISBN 978-1-365-79487-2 (Paperback) Subjects: LCSH: sh85001072 Adventure stories| BISAC: FIC002000 Adventure; FIC045000 Family Life; FIC040000 Alternate History | GSAFD: 00000cz a2200037n 45 0-680; -455| LCC PS370-380 | DDC -38Moralities/ -66Voyages-Imaginary--dc23

P K Winston

The Writers - & The Matryoshka Dolls, P K Winston

   Contents: Three concurrent stories

ISBN 978-1-365-79487-2 (ePub)

Copyright © 2017 by P K Winston

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction or storage in a retrieval system intended for dissemination in whole or in part in any form, including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or scanning without the expressed, written permission of the publisher or author.

www.blueMpublishing.com

Book Cover Design by Allendorf-Vignere

Published by Blue M Publishing, LLC, Hammond, IN

Blue M Publishing

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The Writers

& The Matryoshka Dolls

Book Summary

Set in pre-Communist Russia in 1903, an old man writes his final manuscript - a play about a young author trying to pen his first novel. The young man's novel tells of a team of explorers who map the dark continent of Africa and their tales of adventure and danger. The old man's play describes an ordinary man who makes a life-changing decision that he ponders for the rest of his days. He lives through his writings. At the same time, the old man's life is heading toward dusk; it is his last chance to create something memorable - something legendary.

A book about life and the decisions one makes along the way, this novel explores what it means to be truly happy with one's past and accepting of one's future.

*****

A Work of Fiction

This work is fiction. Certain references are made to peoples, dates, and events that are included to facilitate character development and further the plot line and are not intended to be construed as historically accurate or within the time frame presented.

Rating: PG-13* for use of graphic images of violence and threats of violence. Some drug and alcohol use is described. *Rating is provided by the author as a parental guide and is not based on any established rating systems. PG-Restricted is suggested. Suitable for readers 13 or older.

Contents

The WriterS      & THE Matryoshka Dolls

The Writers

CH 1  Opening Act

CH 2  Warming the Fire

CH 3  Breeders' Fair

CH 4  Zoya

CH 5  Alina

CH 6  Slave Port

CH 7  Opportunity of a Lifetime

CH 8  In the Bush

CH 9  Nika

CH 10  No, Don't Go

CH 11  The King

CH 12  The Feast - Part I

CH 13  Accidental Death

CH 14  The Feast - Part II

CH 15  Hunters are Hunted

CH 16  Pavel

CH 17  An Unexpected Departure

CH 18  Wedding Bells

CH 19  War

CH 20  Success

CH 21  Woodworking

CH 22  Escape into the Wild

CH 23  Opportunity Knocks

CH 24  Upstream

CH 25  Writing with Fervor

CH 26  Pikes

CH 27  The Unthinkable

CH 28  The Newspaper

CH 29  Slim Odds

CH 30  Letter from Africa

CH 31  Kissing the Earth

CH 32  On the Cusp

CH 33  Alexei

CH 34  Unfinished Work

About the Author

Blue M Publishing

The Writers

& the Matryoshka Dolls

CH 1  Opening Act

St. Petersburg, Russia 1904

Yuri sat at his desk, his fingers poised over a piece of paper with pen in hand hovering. The paper beneath was half-filled with black-scrolling words and meandering ideas; unfortunately, the other half was barren and desolate. Still, the author's pen did not move. His mind was packed with thoughts, but his hand was unable to convert those into the words he so desperately sought.

Then, as if guided by God, his fingers pushed the point of the pen to the page, letting the black lines flow once more. He was finally seized by inspiration, writing a story -- a play -- with purpose and gusto. It was one he knew would enlighten the world and, perhaps, even change it.

TIME/PLACE

Moscow 1863

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Nikolay Popov - Young, aspiring writer.

Raisa - Nikolay's mother

Alek - Nikolay's friend

Pavel - Nikolay's friend

Georgi - Pavel's brother

Alina - Nikolay's girlfriend

ACT I

SCENE 1

Shelves of books upstage. An old writer's desk sits stage right-center, angled toward the audience with quill pen and parchment on top and a hard, wooden chair in back. Two armchairs sit in front of the desk with a sofa stage left-center. The scene is dimly lit, except the single spotlight on the desk. Nikolay is sitting at the desk with quill pen in hand, thinking.

NIKOLAY: Damn! (Pounds desk with fist. Crosses out words on parchment with bold strokes). That's not right! It just won't do!

(Alina enters stage right, carrying her sewing basket and two knitting needles.)

RAISA: What's the problem, Niki? You've been causing such a fuss all morning long. Are you still working on that book of yours?

     NIKOLAY: Yes, mother. And if we had a bit more heat in this house, I'd be able to concentrate. (He shivers)

.....RAISA: (Pointing to the fireplace). You're just as capable as anyone else to get up and put another log on the fire, aren't you? Your father is in town tending to some family matters, and I'm busy keeping this house in order. Really, Niki, is that too much to ask? (Alina exits stage left shaking her head).

.....NIKOLAY: (Looks down at his parchment and talks to himself as he writes). Rurik raised his rifle just as the wild boar was about to reach Alexandr, but his second-in-command shouted to him, Captain, there's a second one to your right flank! Rurik calmed himself and pivoted, spotting the threat and pulling the trigger. He watched as the big, black beast stumbled and fell stone dead in its tracks. But as he turned back to his sergeant, he saw the first pig, half again larger than the one he had just killed, attacking Alexandr and sinking its tusks deep into his thigh. Alexandr unsheathed his knife and thrust the point directly into the boar's head, waiting until it too lay still and quiet on the vast expanse of the Serengeti Plain.

Yuri? Aren't you coming to bed? It's late, mumbled, Anna, his wife of forty-two years.

Yuri was surprised that she was still able to string a coherent sentence together that late at night. Usually by eleven o'clock, she was either passed-out on the lounger or in bed with an almost-empty bottle of vodka at her side. In recent years, he hadn't been much better. Already that evening he had consumed over half of one himself.

Yes, dear, Yuri muttered. I'm just on the epoch of writing a play that will be my best yet - my best ever!

You say that every time, Yuri. Now, come ta' bed, will ya'?

Yes, dear, he said, fully intending to ignore her pleas - as he had for most of their years together. However, in the back of his mind, he knew that if he had listened to her a bit more often or he had made different decisions, their position in life might have turned out differently.

Now, where was I, he said, reverting to his old, hard-headed, stubborn self.

.....NIKOLAY: (Continuing to think aloud as he writes) Sergeant, are you all right? shouted Rurik, running to his friend. The gash in Alexandr's leg was wide and deep with blood spurting forth like a waterfall off a mountainside. Things didn't look good ...

The minute hand on the clock face continued to move, and Yuri continued to write. The candle began to flicker as the hours clicked by and the white wax on the candle slowly dripped down the sides. As if the scene were taken from Yuri's own play, the stage later that night held the spotlight on an old man, slumped over his desk with his head down, snoring softly as the black ink from the stilled quill drooled from its point and onto the hard, wooden surface of the desk. There would be no more writing that evening.

*****

CH 2  Warming the Fire

When Yuri awoke, he found the black ink had spread over the entire surface of his desk -- even seeping up and into the cuff of his right sleeve. Later, that ink blot would leave an indelible reminder of that momentous night when he began his "to-be one day," legendary play -- one he believed would lead to fame and literary immortality.

Sasha, his auburn laika, pushed his cold nose up against his master, signaling that it was time for feeding, but Yuri groggily moved his leg, hoping his dog would go away. However, Sasha was persistent, and when his master didn't respond, he continued to pester. Finally, Yuri got up to find the rations for him.

Pushing himself up from the table, Yuri could feel the cold ache in his bones and the stiffness in his joints. He shuffled into the kitchen to find the scraps the house servant, Marta, kept for the dog to eat. They were one of the few families in the village that allowed their dog inside -- most kept them outside unless the weather was unusually cold or icy. But this day was moderate by the standards of St. Petersburg -- only at or above freezing. It was not unusual for them to see winters with temperatures plummeting to minus thirty or more Celsius -- enough to freeze a man's flesh and his soul within minutes.

Yuri went outside the rear door where they kept the dog's scraps and brought a few in from the previous night's supper so they could thaw next to the warm embers of the fire. Then, he piled on a few more logs to get the temperature to ten degrees Celsius so his wife wouldn't be shivering when she awoke. It was usually Marta's job to stoke the fire; however, she wasn't yet up, and Yuri didn't wish to bother her. As for Anna, she was always a bit on the grumpy side in the morning when she had drunk more than she should have the previous night.

Stirring the embers, Yuri got the fire re-started. He took the bellows to blow air across them, turning their dull red hue to orange and then yellow, eventually creating modest flames that shot up from the small logs before catching the larger ones he had placed on top.

After the scraps had thawed and been fed to Sasha, Yuri went back to his desk and glanced at what he had written the prior night. It was good, he thought, but not great. It seemed better when he was writing it - but that was always the case. He would have to go back and make revisions - but then, that's what usually happened - over and over again. He was a perfectionist. His writings were never exactly right, but he had learned from years of writing that it would never be so - never be perfect in his eyes. He had come to accept something less than perfect to get something finished.

Now, where was I, he thought, getting re-situated. Oh, yes ... I was just writing about Nikolay ...

*****

CH 3  Breeders' Fair

Nikolay continued writing at his desk, trying to come up with the words and scenes for the characters in his book. He was young, and the thoughts came painfully slowly as he crafted each word, phrase and passage as if it were going directly to the publisher for final print. He had always been meticulous in life -- so much so that many said he was odd in that way. Everything had to be precise and straight, organized and labeled.

As a child, he had always insisted that the books on his father's bookshelf be kept in alphabetical order, and he would periodically go into his father's study and rearrange them. Likewise, he was a stickler for keeping his clothes in his drawers so they were stacked precisely -- one on top of the other without any corner out of alignment. Dark colors were on the bottom of the stack with lighter colors gradually continuing the spectrum to the top. It was exhausting for his mother to maintain the household in that way, and eventually, an extra servant had to be hired for the purpose of maintaining things.

As Nikolay grew up, his tendency toward perfection never tired or waned. His exactitude had no boundaries; yet, his need for social companionship pushed him to be more tolerant of others. He learned not to expect the same level of precision from his friends or his girlfriends, and eventually was able to take deep breaths to overcome his anxiety when he saw things that weren't exactly so.

School was relatively easy for him, and he found time to do things with his close friends, Pavel and Alek.