One spring, the death of the bell ringer
The bell ringer was the only person who happened to be in the Home from the old residents of the asylum. Early on, it was discovered our “Shining Light” had been “Villa Peace”, dedicated to the mentally ill. One of them was the bell ringer, comrade Aneski. But it couldn’t be said he was totally mad. Even less should he be blamed for not knowing his job. It was his old trade, I swear. God, the real wonder was how could he stand it. To be honest comrade Aneski was so cunning and devious, he was such a real spindle that we should tip our hats to him. Obviously the cunning fellow’s lunatic actions appealed to the dear Headmaster, so he pushed it to the limit. Our bell ringer knew very well how to maintain his character appraisal.
Once, he couldn’t get to sleep the whole night. His left molar hurt, and he could not find peace at all. What didn’t he drink; he even put on the root of a nettle, even a little brandy was found from somewhere, but the pains just wouldn’t stop. All night he moaned “Oof!” out loud, curse me, he moved from dormitory to dormitory, moaning as loud as he could, just so that we couldn’t sleep either. And when one of the children, joking, moaned “oof” mimicking him, he went completely mad. Even though it was night, not a good time at all, midnight, he ordered us to line up in the yard. That was a Winter December night. It was a dry cold Winter, cold enough to crack rock. Everywhere around it was deaf, just the stinging wind, blowing harshly, like a sickle, passed above the ground. The fine snow like hawthorns was hitting us in the face, every object was shrieking, the ground was screeching. It was, certainly, the most desolate night in the world, the ice nailed us to the ground, I swear, the pains left the bell ringer; his pain was over, he was cured. Impossible, you say, but he cured himself. Curse me, if that day did not end in that surprising way, maybe today he would have gone much further. What did it matter he was mad? Even better. He did every task without a word. No, I swear, I’m not joking, he would have become a man, a pioneering builder of the new society and so on, if only he hadn’t got clever that day.
His obedience, his humiliation, his self-sacrifice and discipline quickly brought him out. Exactly like that, they brought him out. If he tried hard, he could even have put together an excellent biography. Once it was communicated that he, namely comrade Aneski, was the organiser of some revolt in the hospital and something similar; a matter which shouldn’t be undervalued. Meanwhile, as to the truth, he was a more modest man, but above all, he just loved his call and his little bell to death. Curse me, the little bell. For example, he could not be separated from the bell he woke us with, not even once. There wasn’t anything the children did not try to get him to stop with those absurdities but he doggedly continued on. There’s no question about it, he had something constant in his character. He kept the little bell and the pickaxe by his bed like marital props. No, comrade Aneski wasn’t that mad, he knew the soul of our dear Headmaster Ariton Jakovleski perfectly well, it’s understood, as well as the assembly line itself. There you are, he knew the administration waged war daily with the son of Kejtin and there wasn’t a morning he didn’t, like a madman, at first light, appear at the foot of the bed of the son of Kejtin. Oh God, he was unhappy and he suffered so much he couldn’t once, at least once, find him asleep. Curse me, he brought his own death on his head himself.
Waking had two parts: the first part was the normal part, when the bell ringer’s behaviour was peaceful. Curse me, someone had thought up normal behaviour for the wake up. In that event, the bell ringer, at the allocated time, would get up on the little stage that was placed in the middle of the yard and from that spot he started his bell ringing. I think there was not a living soul who couldn’t hear him. Certainly the whole neighbouring area around the home was woken by the ringing from the Home; the whole area was dragged away from its dreams. The second part of waking was linked to the alert character of the bell ringer. Like every subjugated and enslaved man, he was scared to death for his poor future. Every late arrival to the assembly line meant something very bad to him. He thought it was levelled directly against him so we would ruin his character appraisal with the dear Headmaster. Simply put, people like him are full of fear, they exert themselves beyond their own capabilities, they are always on the alert, from day to day they become more and more soulless, more blind. That’s why the bell ringer, and over and beyond the assembly line and everything, thought up a first and second part of waking. Maybe he hadn’t slept through the night until he came up with it, until he thought of such a thing. Isn’t that the most ferocious, the scariest suicide, oh if only his murky head had for a moment became a little clearer. Curse me, what a terrible blindness, what an inconceivable punishment.
When the bell ringer would appear in the dormitories you would think the plague had descended. He was so harsh and at the same time cunning that he didn’t permit even the slightest contention. Think of a man without dreams and think how much he would respect the dreams of others. But our children’s hearts from all four sides were full of dreams, they gushed. Can you think what your dreams would be like if such a man were the keeper? He wouldn’t fail to look for us even under our beds, everywhere he, in his sick head, thought to look. Every place where a dream could be, he hunted it. He hunted it as though it was his greatest enemy. And it was like that, he was afraid of dreams. Curse me, he was afraid. It was obvious he had never had a peaceful dream, when he woke up, he looked tortured and deeply unhappy, beaten black and blue. He left an impression of a man who was returning from long conscript labour. Naturally every action of his went in extreme, it even seemed entertaining in the beginning. Sometimes he himself did not believe his own eyes, he supposed even they would deceive him. (Poor thing, he was suspicious of everything, of himself, of others, of the day, of the night, even of the earth he trod beneath his feet.) He would go into the toilets, he would open the wardrobes, he would peer under the beds, everywhere, everywhere. The buffoon did that in a very facetious way, but not without motive. Quickly after that we worked out we were not allowed to joke about anything with the bell ringer. Because, it will happen perhaps, in any case, that someone is caught somewhere he does not belong, then woe is he. Even with a medical certificate it was risky to stay in bed. It’s not as if the madman would even ask you — he pulled the steel and — whatever fate God had in store for you. Curse me, whatever God had in store for you. Anyway, it was scariest when he started to foam, when, without any reason he would go wild and would grab some boy and start to choke him.
“You, beast, in the cellar,” he would rave, “in the cellar, you thief!”
And if you dare to ask him what you’ve stolen, then he would, without a word, look at you with such a scary, terrifying look, a look which was heavier than every punishment. Without a word he would grab you by the neck and he would drag you toward the cellar.
In the Home there were many unpleasant places, the sort of places which, if you can, it would be better to avoid. But the cellar was something else, no-one knew what the cellar was, no-one knew what was hidden in the cellar. No-one had until then looked in that part of the Home, the bell ringer alone was the only master in the cellar. The key hung around his neck like a cross. And that was enough to make you sense the fear in all your being. Comrade Aneski was born to that, he was a workshop of fear. Curse me, that’s what Kejtin called him, workshop of fear. Maybe that is why the dear Headmaster and not just him, but all of the administration, relied so much on the bell ringer for reinstatement of the assembly line. In that regard, the bell ringer was God. I swear, God. Lunatics. Cursed lunatics, with a wall before their eyes. Blind.