An Easter Carol - Part IV

Russkiy Mir Edition - Easter 2023

Part IV - Ghost of Easter Yet to Come

There was someone standing in front of the fire. He was tall and thin, and dressed all in black.

“And you must be another ghost,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said exhausted.

The figure in black did not reply. He turned and looked at Vladimir Vladimirovich. He was wearing spectacles, which seemed to be useless, as one lens was cracked and the other was totally missing. He bowed politely, as if to greet him, and walked to the door.

“He does not speak Russian,” someone said. The voice seemed to come from his chair. Vladimir Vladimirovich looked and saw that there was a black cat curled up on the chair, the same cat he had seen previously. The cat stretched and said, “anyway, he is the Ghost of Easter Yet to Come.”

“First ghosts and now talking cats?” Vladimir Vladimirovich said.

“What’s wrong, haven’t you seen a talking cat before? You should be going,” the cat said, “I’ll stay here by the fire.”

The Ghost had opened the door and held it open for Vladimir Vladimirovich.

The cat stood up on two legs, and gently pushed Vladimir Vladimirovich towards the door, “Don’t happen to have any vodka here, I could have a few while I wait.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich walked out and the Ghost followed him. They walked down the stairs and along the corridors, and the Ghost always politely opened the doors for him and let him go first. Finally they came to his office.

It was his office alright, but the furniture was different.

“Welcome to your old office,” the Ghost said.

“But, I thought you did not speak Russian,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said.

“And who told you that? You believe a cat who talks, and drinks vodka,” the Ghost replied, “you should know better.”

There was a group of people sitting around a table discussing something. “Let me present to you, the Government,” the Ghost said and walked around the table, “Alexei Navalny, Vladimir Kara-Murza, Ilya Yashin, Yevgeny Roizman…”

“But they are in prison, I put them there,” Vladimir Vladimirovich interrupted.

“They were in prison, in your time. This is the future.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, after your time.” The Ghost looked at some documents on the table, “Looks like they are discussing some infrastructure framework deal with the EU. Interesting.”

“With the EU,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said, astonished.

“Don’t look so gloomy. Besides, it’s boring stuff, legal jargon, bureaucratic. Let’s go outside, it is a lovely day.”

*****

And with that they were walking on a street. It was a sunny day, and there was a long queue of people along the sidewalk.

“And what would they be queueing for,” the Ghost asked excitedly. “This is like in the old days. Queueing to buy something of inferior quality, something of second-grade freshness maybe, to buy anything.”

“The economy has crashed,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said vindicated, “I knew they could not run the country.”

They walked along the queue, which seemed to have a joyous atmosphere, which felt strange for a country in depression. They followed the queue, even turned a corner, and then finally arrived at a big official looking building.

“But this is not a department store,” the Ghost said astonished.

“What are they queueing for then? Government handouts?” Vladimir Vladimirovich asked, irritated.

“Oh, I see,” the Ghost said, and pointed at a sign by the door. Vladimir Vladimirovich looked at it. “Voting Hours Extended” it said in big black letters.

“Looks like there is an election,” the Ghost said, and added, “well, spirits can’t vote. Let’s go somewhere else, somewhere peaceful.”

*****

They were in a cemetery, an old one. The gravestones were mossy and overgrown, and the paths looked unused. There was no one else there.

The Ghost walked to a grey gravestone, it had a piece missing in one corner and it was leaning to one side. He wiped the surface with his hand, “Can you read this? V-L-A-D-I-M-I-, is that an R?… V-L-A-D… Hey, this is yours,” he exclaimed with excitement, “was not sure we could find it.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich looked at the stone. His name was there all right. The rest of what was written on the stone was covered with dead leaves and grasses. “Why is no one taking care of this,” he asked irritated.

“It is a bit on the side, at the back. You know, a long way from the gate,” the Ghost started, but just then they heard someone approaching.

“This way, back here,” a man appeared, he walked with a limp and had a walking stick. One could tell that he had a prosthetic leg. A woman and a small boy followed him.

“A veteran, paying his respects,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said proudly.

“Mihail, I don’t like this place, this is creepy,” the woman said, “and what will people think if they see us here, visiting his grave.”

“Who will see us here, look around, there is no one here,” the man countered, “Irina, no one, ever, comes here, ever.”

“But, Mihail, why did you want to come here then,” the woman asked.

“I told you, wanted to see his grave for myself. To see he is dead. To show him that I’m still here. Still alive.” And he added, “and to make sure that he stays dead, and six feet under.” He was silent for a while, just staring at the grave. “The stupid war…”

“Daddy, look there is a squirrel,” the boy shouted. A squirrel ran up the closest tree, and sat on a branch, looking at them. Then it jumped to another tree. “Daddy, let’s follow it. Come on.”

“Alexei, wait for us,” the woman said. She took the man by the arm, and they followed their son down the path.

“I don’t think he is going to visit you again, do you,” the Ghost said, “or anyone else for that matter.”

“The ungrateful…” Vladimir Vladimirovich started, but the cemetery faded away, and he was back in his room. The fire was still burning, and there was an empty vodka bottle on the side table on top of the report he had been reading. But the room was empty, there was no one there.

He sat down and stared at the fire, lost in his thoughts, until the fire died down. Just before he fell asleep in the chair, he muttered silently, “Humbug.”