On the Wings of Hope : Prose

V.V.P. :- Just like as many as the states … Run overseas all Wall Street’s mates!

Fyodor :- No one escapes the Justice Law!

V.V.P. :- Feel no repentance? It means … oh …

Fyodor :- Those ones escaping from the fate will more trouble only bait.

V.V.P. :- Ships may think without link … of your actions one must think!

Fyodor :- Look what Yankees brought on them …

V.V.P. :- Nature’s wrath is like a ram! Whirlwinds and tsunamis maybe coming from the seas …  

Fyodor :- This is quite instructive, yes … evil ones are making mess.

V.V.P. :- Quite long ago it has been told. Still people strife for wealth and gold.

Fyodor :- They are the lesson for this world, ones who rejected divine chord …

V.V.P. :- This nation bears own guilt … and hate like poison makes them wilt.

Fyodor :- Their brother-Jew … what of these ones?

V.V.P. :- Ivan, show us those “chosen” sons.

Once again having sadly sighted directly into the camera, Ivan sighs with relief and soars under heavens once again, and, being guided by reference points known only to him, flies straight in the direction of a sacred hail, because of which sanctity there was so much human blood, probably not so sacred, spilled already. On approaching, however, it becomes obvious that the sky over Jerusalem is densely covered with black-gray clouds, here and there lightnings are sparkling, illuminated dark horizon, and heavy rain has already started. Either a mind abuse or Ivan’s caustic snicker can be heard in the camera, and she, camera, starts of become covered by more than live drops of moisture. Then, however, the hand of operator waves before televiewers, which in all its immense power with ease wipes the camera in a flash of time, and unambiguously exposes to everyone its thumb, raised vertically up.

Five more seconds passes and before looking into their TV screens auditory a shocking unprepared watcher view opens itself: it’s clearly visible how large masses of people gathered before sorrowly known Wailing Wall and in some sort of drunk waste, more, however, reminding frenzied despair, are bashing their heads against this so sorrowly known wall. They are hitting it, however, not so strongly and seriously, because no a single one from them, as the look suffices, bears no visible signs of a blow with own forehead. Deaf sounds “bom!” accompanied by high shrieks “Ai!”, “Ouch!” and even “Eh time, one more time!” fill space. The picture reminds an attempt of national public repentance not the most original way. Drops of moisture, beating about a pavement, complete this pitiable picture of crying.

V.V.P. :- Just look, my friend, at Wailing Wall - the Jews are “paying” their toll!

Fyodor :- Oh my! With heads they are bashing walls! Is that the way to reach their goals?

V.V.P. :- They beat themselves like in frenzy, for long have been living in the lie…

Fyodor :- A heaven’s fire fell on town, and “chosen” one was stripped of crown?

V.V.P. :- Was making money all the way … and thus become their own prey.

Fyodor :- Water with fire will cleanse all, thought it was not their own goal.

V.V.P. :- What do you think of them, my friend, what is the future of this land?