One day, though, that idiot was good. He recovered his sight. Curse me, recovered his sight. He was as good as a lamb. That was his day. He was celebrating, he went wild with happiness. He had a reason, a real reason to be happy. What he managed to achieve with the assembly line was at such a level that it stirred up collective elation. Things that had for centuries tormented intelligent, deep people, things like the self-awareness, humanity, or some such discipline, our bell ringer managed to attain in the course of a year. Curse me, they were blind.
The day was very stormy. All night a strong, rainy wind blew. From the water bank came horrible, morbid cries of birds. The restless, frightening voices woke us. No-one slept. It was thought the storm had come into the Home. Kejtin, who most certainly heard the storm before anyone else, with the first sound, was already out of the dormitory. His little bed was empty.
“Where is Kejtin?” asked one of the boys. “Kejtin is missing!”
At that moment, Kejtin came in drenched like a mouse. It was obvious he was happy, his face was shining. The children jumped out of their beds at once. They knew Kejtin had seen something. He was smiling, angelic, unusually, quietly, happily.
“Tell me, what was there?” they asked him. “Where does this wind come from?”
But his happiness quickly paled. With his thin transparent hands, once, twice he wiped his wet face and, it seemed, in that way he took away all the beauty he had brought in from outside, once again his face became ugly, unattractive. Alien. Curse me, alien. The residents of the Home began to push around the tall, unattractive boy. Metodija Grishkoski, a young man from the administration, spurred on by some of his friends, dared to shove him from behind, he was after a fight.
“Wise one, invisible strength, what did you see, tell us? Did you see your devil, did you see the water’s spirit, what was it like, strong one? Did he look like you, eh?” He threw heavy insults into his face and emboldened by Kejtin’s silence, he started to rip into him even more.
“Leave him, you crawler!” I called. Other children called the same thing. The dormitory was like a lunatic asylum.
Unusually, this time Kejtin remained completely quiet, as though he wasn’t at all interested what was around him. He looked like a person, a traveller who just passed by, by chance, briefly, a person who was in a rush, who was hurrying on his trip. The same moment like a shadow he flew through the dormitory, he left. Then, like stupid sheep, the children rushed after him... He’d climbed onto the stage in the yard, he was hunting the rain. Curse me, he was hunting the rain. That was beautiful, magnificent Spring rain. Shining rain.
And in the dawn. Day. Between two big, burst clouds, a small, thin, weak ray shone with a new, beautiful light. Not a single child wanted to return to the stinking, poisonous beds. I swear it happened simply, just like that.
This morning there was no need for the bell, every last child was in the yard. The bell ringer rolled his eyes, they were going to pop out of his head like loose buttons, he rubbed his forehead, surely his whole body was in flames, dear mother of mine, he didn’t believe it. He began to run from one grade to another, to sniff like a hound, curse me, like a hound, to stare into every face with an expression which seemed to ask “You, beast, are you here in the line? Where are you?!” and at the end when he was completely sure, he went wild with happiness. Curse me, he threw the little bell from his hands and over his head he ran to the administration to announce the happy news. You can just imagine how the news spread out in the administration. The dear Headmaster didn’t even manage to do up his trousers, he was holding them up in his hands and like that he went from one grade to another, with that same joyful expression which was on the bell ringer’s face just a short time ago. The dear Headmaster’s moustache shone, it turned to gold. It meant in the end we succeeded, that’s what it meant, at the end of all ends, he winked at the sleepy instructors. They looked like they were not at all happy, obviously they were still in their dreams, they were sleepy. They were a little bit put out they had been woken early, I swear, if a person were to leave them like that, on their feet, they would’ve slept a number of centuries. Then and later, only comrade Srezoska was fully awake as she was for the whole of her life and, it’s understood, like always, buttoned up, top to bottom, our Assistant-Headmaster. Obviously she wasn’t overjoyed, it was as though some worm was eating at her.
Anyway, it was impossible for a person to stay calm looking at the bell ringer. Poor man. The incident totally melted him down, it hit him in the heart. His eyes shone, curse me, there was a warm tear even in this being. A person wouldn’t ever believe there was room in his heart for wind and for other such follies. I now believe, curse me, in every human heart there has to be one or two warm Spring rain drops regardless of how hard it is, covered in ice. I saw that with my own eyes and I believe it as I believe in a clear day, I swear.
That morning the sun rose too. Maybe the sun knew about our special holiday, the District Manager was already familiar with it, wanted an essay to be used so we could benefit from the experience. The dear Headmaster at last did up the buttons on his trousers (he turned a little to the side and did up the buttons). Immediately we put up the flags, we put the stage in order, we did it in a minute. A flower was even found from somewhere, the comrades came, the official for sport and culture, comrade Dervutovski, the official for general things, comrade Veceski, comrade Elimoski, comrade Lazhoski, we held a meeting in honour of comrade Aneski, our bell ringer. Curse me, a meeting. Dear mother of mine, he was sensible for an hour, he awoke. We all saw, his eyes became different, he looked at us very kindly, dearly, gently. Curse me, he abandoned the madness and he looked at us with bright, human eyes. The stone in his chest thawed, it melted like a drop of Spring dew touched by the strong ray, a warm, little flame like a golden spider was crawling over his tortured and unhappy face. I swear, for the whole time he wasn’t listening to the speech, the applause and all the other ridiculous things which can blind a person. With thirsty eyes he looked only at us, at each child. The poor man, you could hardly recognise the bell ringer — tyrant, impossible, I swear, in that moment, each child’s heart was with him, was begging for his poor life. He saw it and couldn’t contain himself. He didn’t have any strength left in him any more, the unhappy creature.
“He’s dying,” said the son of Kejtin to me, “he is perishing like a wild dog.”
“Quiet,” I begged him. “He is alone. He is with us, friend.”
“O the poor little man flew higher than he thought,” said Kejtin with a bitter smile. “There you are, now he is plummeting into a dark abyss from which he will never leave.”
The bell ringer eventually went completely mad that day. Incurable. For days he could neither eat nor sleep. He went from child to child, and all of a sudden he would look at you with that stiffened, white look. After that, he’d be possessed again and he would start to escape, to hide, to cry, to bawl, he soiled himself and banged his head against the wall. So he would not be so troubled, we tied him up with a rope and we left him tied up like that, so he could die more peacefully. We saw how he was dying. Curse me, it seems you cannot die so quickly and on a whim.
He died on an ordinary day. Early in the morning, before the flies attacked him. I swear, he beat the flies.
After the death of the bell ringer, the Home sunk into that familiar deaf silence again. Fear settled into every small nook. A new fear. No one mentioned the Senterlev Mountain any more. It was as though snow had fallen on it, as though the sun had died. In those unhappy days, even the voice of the Big Water was lost, all was gone. Pleasant dreams disappeared to somewhere they could not return from. Everything smelled of death; we thought an evil spirit lived in the Home. Most of the children, especially those who knew something of the frightening spirit, were horribly afraid. They woke in the deafest night from their dreams and, as though someone were giving chase, they ran, they hid through the Home. They were looking for a way, a path by which they could be freed from that cursed place, to escape the cold shadow of the wall. No, there was no such place. On all four sides we complied with regulations, securely built in. If they finally managed to understand that, if they managed to free themselves from the nightmare, everything would end happily. After that, wide awake, as if ground down, they would get back into their beds, but healthy and happy, whole. But if the dream held onto them a little longer, then they were prepared for the most mindless acts. In such a moment, little Klimoski, a little boy as quiet as a beetle, so quiet the children even called him Klimoski the Beetle, went so wild he managed to jump right to the top of the wall. He held on with the palms of his hands, held onto the glass pieces on the wall and stayed like that as though in a trap. In the morning we found him rolling around, bloodied and insane, captured.