Pakcha

PAKCHA  

Two shots and a bray “Everybody down! It's a robbery! ” went off suddenly, when Pakcha moved to the relieved operator of the bank. Trained by life and TV, the few present customers and employees of the bank have dropped to the floor in an orderly way. The levers of self-preservation instinct have deprived the Pakcha's softened muscles of strength, and he fell to his knees, too. He would have fallen down like everyone else, in limb and wind on the floor, and cover his head with his hands; he would have fallen, if it was not for this morning, which changed him, which woke new feelings in the guy, new understanding of the reason for his being on Earth. It has happened in his favorite place, in the glade in the old forest from where there is always a magical view of a wide valley and foothills of a green Alpine meadow. Pakcha used to come here to cast off the fatigue and to revive himself by live energy, as he told his friends. But this morning was special. When Pakcha drove early in the morning to the spring of his energy, he already felt that something unusual was coming. He tried to understand where are these feelings from and what to expect. But it was no dice. He just felt while getting closer to his glade an increasing excitement, like an excitement in the childhood while waiting for a festive gift. When he stopped near his tree, he tried to find any change in the outside world – the reason for his unusual joyful anxiety. But nothing visual caught the eye, it seemed that nothing had happened. It was a sunny spring morning, bright beautiful morning. The old mighty trees renewed their young leaves; tender green grass decorated itself with yellow and purple flowers; clear blue cool air filled the space. A bird trill or a woodpecker rattle sometimes interrupted almost silent rustling of leaves and grass blades. Pakcha leaned back against the trunk of a familiar oak that just was saving strength for its greens, looking at quiet, welcoming day trees, stretching to the sun silk grass decorated with flowers, light morning mist in the valley and the outlines of the mountains behind them. Looked as if he saw this for the first time: eagerly, attentively, while deeply breathing the clear blueness. And suddenly, he felt such unusual, unexpected flash of insight, he felt himself a part of this beautiful, eternal, powerful nature. He understood that the nature has accepted him, that he, Pakcha, is also a part of this eternal harmony of nature, that he is as great and mighty as the oaks, are beautiful and tender as the first tendrils and leaves still sticky of tar, green grass and first flowers, to which bees are already in a hurry. He had felt it so clearly, and he had felt so unusually good from the invading love for the world that he even cried. He cried also because he had not known the meaning of his life, who he is and why does he live. He closed his eyes, cried and thought about all of this. When his tears dried up, Pakcha opened his eyes and looked around. Yes, now he is one of it, he is part of this forest, grass, mountains, air. He is stronger than other people in body and spirit. He will live in another way, overcoming any obstacles and barriers. And nothing will stop him. In this spiritual state of mind, Pakcha got into the car and drove to town. He decided to draw his small savings out of the bank to write and publish a book to tell people about how strong and happy they can be and live without anger and hatred.  

And now, he is on his knees and the survival instinct pulls him down to the floor, and so does the glance of the robber with a gun, while the second bandit's dealing with a bank teller. But the new moral courage, which inspired him in the morning, raised him from his knees. Pakcha knows he's stronger than the bandit, stronger than his gun. Also Pakcha understands that if he lays on the floor, he'll turn into a normal insurance agent, and his life will turn gray and dull again. No, he's not going back. Pakcha slowly rises from his knees and slowly extends his right hand with splayed fingers to the bandit. The bandit stood in the center of the room, controlling the lying public, approximately 5 meters apart from Pakcha. He looks up wonderingly at Pakcha, holding a tense finger on the cock: “Hey you, idiot, do you want another hole in the head? Or do you want to play hero, but also with a hole? You, down”, his accomplice raised his head to the noise, but saw unarmed standing Pakcha with an outstretched hand, and continued collecting money. The black hole of the gun looked straight into the eyes of Pakcha. It was very scary, there was a smell of death. But something inside of Pakcha did not allow him to bend. I am stronger, I am stronger, I am eternal, I am eternal. And Pakcha stood up straight completely and straightened his arm with fingers spread, toward the bandit. And stared at him, turning his head along his outstretched right hand. The bandit screamed something else, but Pakcha didn't hear him. Then he saw the fire flash from the gun and his chest got frizzled and very painful. The bullet has passed along his chest, while gorily plowing the surface of the chest skin. But Pakcha remained standing, he stood with his eyes closed and waited for another shot, and felt the warm blood flowing down over the body. He stood with his eyes closed, with his hand down, and waited for the shot. But terrible seconds passed behind, and there wasn't any shot. Pakcha opened his eyes and saw that his hand is not down, but it remained outstretched with straight fingers to the bandit. He also saw that the bandit was shaking the gun nervously and pressed the cock in the Pakcha's direction. But the shot does not occur. And he saw in the window and door silhouettes of people in body armor, saw the bandits leaving the bag with money and weapons on the floor, raising their hands. The room was filled with screams and shouts of excited people who were happy to still be alive and that everything is so quickly ended. Pakcha heard this noise remotely and already the strength has left him. But the medical assistance arrived. The policeman helped the medics put Pakcha on a stretcher. The last thing Pakcha heard was the words of the policeman “Well, you're a lucky guy, he had a second bullet contorted. If he had not, we would carry you in the bag now. ” And when Pakcha was carried to the car on a stretcher, he saw that a huge plane tree growing beside the bank, waved with branches, and Pakcha felt the sound saying: “You have managed, you're strong, you're with us, we are with you”.