In ancient times, distant antiquity, there lived one sovereign prince. More than anything else in the world, he loved to listen to fairy tales. His associates will come to him:
- What would you like to have fun with today, Prince? There are a lot of all kinds of animals in the forest: boars, deer, and foxes...
- No, I don’t want to go hunting. It’s better to tell me fairy tales, but more authentic ones.
Sometimes the prince would begin to carry out justice. The one who is offended by the guilty complains to him:
- He deceived me, completely ruined me... And the guilty one responded:
- Prince, I know a new fairy tale.
- Long?
- Long, long and scary, scary.
- Well, tell me!
Here's the court and justice for you!
The prince will hold council, and there they will tell him nothing but tall tales.
The prince's servants ran around all the villages in that region, asking everyone if anyone knew a new fairy tale that was more interesting. They set up outposts along the road:
- Hey, traveler, stop! Stop, they tell you! The traveler will be stupefied with fright. What a problem
arrived!
- Stop, tell the truth! Have you been to the seabed as a guest of the sea king?
- No, no, I wasn’t. It didn't happen.
— Did you fly on a crane?
- No, no, I didn’t fly. I swear I didn't fly!
“Well, you’ll fly with us if right now, right there, in this very place, you don’t weave weirder tales.”
But no one could please the prince.
- In our times, fairy tales are short and skimpy... As soon as you start listening early in the morning, by the evening the fairy tale ends. No, those are the wrong fairy tales now, the wrong ones...
And the prince ordered to announce everywhere: “Whoever comes up with such a long tale that the prince will say: “Enough!” “He will receive whatever he wants as a reward.”
Well, here, from all over Japan, from islands near and far, the most skillful storytellers flocked to the prince’s castle. There were also some among them who talked incessantly all day, and all night to boot. But not once did the prince say: “Enough!” Just sigh:
- What a fairy tale! Short, shorter than a sparrow's nose. If I had been as big as a crane's nose, I would have awarded it too!
But then one day a gray-haired, hunched old woman came to the castle.
“I dare to report that I am the first master in telling long tales in Japan.” Many have visited you, but none of them are even suitable as my students.
The servants were delighted and brought her to the prince.
“Begin,” the prince ordered. “But look at me, it will be bad for you if you boasted in vain.” I'm tired of short fairy tales.
“It was a long time ago,” the old woman began. “A hundred large ships are sailing on the sea, heading towards our island.” The ships are loaded to the very brim with precious goods: not silk, not coral, but frogs.
- What do you say - frogs? — the prince was surprised. “Interesting, I’ve never heard anything like this.” Apparently, you really are a master of fairy tales.
“You’ll hear something else, prince.” Frogs are sailing on a ship. Unfortunately, as soon as our shore appeared in the distance, all a hundred ships - fuck! — they hit the rocks at once. And the waves all around are boiling and raging.
The frogs began to hold advice here.
“Come on, sisters,” says one frog, “let’s swim to the shore before our ships are smashed into small pieces. I’m the eldest, I’ll set an example.”
She galloped to the side of the ship.
And jump into the water - splash!
Here the second frog jumped to the side of the ship.
“Kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva. Where one frog goes, so does another.” And jump into the water - splash!
Then the third frog jumped to the side of the ship.
“Kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva. Where there are two frogs, there is a third one.” And jump into the water - splash!
Then the fourth frog jumped to the side of the ship...
The old woman talked all day, but she didn’t even count all the frogs on one ship. And when all the frogs from the first ship had jumped, the old woman began to count the frogs on the other:
- Here the first frog jumped to the side of the ship:
“Kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva. Wherever your head goes, your legs go.”
And jump into the water - splash!
...The old woman did not stop talking for seven days. On the eighth day the prince could not stand it:
- Enough, enough! I have no more strength.
- As you order, prince. But it's a pity. I just started working on the seventh ship. There are still many frogs left. But there is nothing to do. Give me the promised reward, I'll go home.
- What an impudent old woman! She has done the same thing over and over again, like autumn rain, and also asks for a reward.
- But you said: “Enough!” And the prince’s word, as I have always heard, is stronger than a thousand-year-old pine.
The prince sees that you can’t talk your way out of the old woman. He ordered to give her a rich reward and drive her out the door.
For a long time the prince kept hearing in his ears: “Kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva... And jump into the water - splash!”
Since then, the prince stopped loving long fairy tales.
During ten years behind bars, life-sentenced Sergei Dyukarev wrote five books, the largest of which is the fairy tale trilogy “The Thieves of the Sun,” which contains more than a thousand pages. This is a kind of escape from prison into a bright and clean fictional world, where good defeats dark forces. The former killer wrote it for his daughter.
Dyukarev writes little about the life of jailers. Mostly these are short stories about what he himself experienced, what he heard from his cellmates. He has been in prison for 17 years. Of these, he writes the last ten almost every day. I spent most of my time on a fairy tale for my daughter. I got so carried away that a fairy tale trilogy came out. The first is called “Sun Thieves”, the second is “Silver Swords” and the third is “Parallel World Saga”. In total, the book contains more than a thousand pages. No one has ever written a larger fairy tale in the world. In addition, prison stories appear from time to time. What prompted a man convicted of murder to put pen to paper?
They killed not only with shots to the back of the head
“I started with prison stories,” says the convict. - It’s not surprising. I've been living this life for almost 20 years. How not to write about her? Most of the legends in prisons can be heard about how death row prisoners were sent to the next world. The death penalty was abolished long ago, but people here still tell each other stories about how such sentences were carried out. I was convicted at a time when there was already a moratorium on the death penalty. But I found those waiting to be shot. They didn’t even know who would be escorted out of the cell for the last time. In the order in which they were put behind bars, they were led to execution. What they did with them, no one knows for sure - it’s a big secret. Nevertheless, there is a lot of talk around the last minutes of suicide bombers.
The life sentencer spoke about the terrible methods in which convicts were executed.
“I personally heard that some were killed with a hammer blow to the head, others were put in the electric chair, and others were shot in the back of the head,” says Sergei, sentenced to life. - When a person is taken to be shot, they don’t tell him about it, but he feels it with every cell. At such moments, the convict has no other choice - he cannot turn left or right, the road is only forward. And ahead is a hole...
Dreamed of becoming an archaeologist
Very soon he realized that writing on this topic would only rub salt into the wound. Therefore, he began to think more about a bright, clean world, the kind in which he would like his daughter to live, where good reigns, where brave people defeat evil.
In my fairy tale, in addition to the fictional plot, there are a lot of instructive things,” says Dyukarev. - Many facts about the Universe, planets, cosmic phenomena. Another part of the documentary facts concerns archeology. I’m talking about finds discovered during the Mongol-Tatar invasion. As a child, I dreamed of becoming an archaeologist; I read hundreds of books from my grandfather’s and parent’s libraries. I was also interested in books about the Universe. All this is useful now. When I reread what I’ve written, I get carried away by the plot.
My heroes save the world from evilwhich he himself caused to people
“Writing has become an internal need,” says the convict. - I can’t live without this. Sometimes I wake up at four in the morning and start working. These are the best moments when the three of us are alone - me, my thoughts and paper. Finally doing what I truly enjoy. Thus, at least in my thoughts, I am hiding from the strict everyday life of prison.
Perhaps one day my daughter will read the book. I would really like her to appreciate what I did. When he reads it, first of all he will understand what kind of world I have been dreaming about all this time.
The convict sends a handwritten text to his parents. They type on the computer and return it to their son. He proofreads, touches up some parts, polishes them in a new way, and sends them back to his family. One day, on the way, the manuscript got lost. Forty pages were missing. It was never possible to restore them verbatim. After that incident, I began to duplicate the text. He writes everything in two copies. He dreams of showing his trilogy to one of the professional writers. Printing a book is not easy, because it is large in volume and requires a lot of money. He says that something else is important - the book has already been written. He compares working on it with the same duty that is given to a person in freedom: to plant a garden, build a house, raise a son. He could have all this too, but...
Studied to be a submariner
Dyukarev’s childhood and youth were associated with the hero city of Sevastopol, where he was born and raised, where his parents were, where his grandparents lived. In this city, the profession of a naval officer was prestigious. My grandfather served in the navy and then worked as a department head at a military school. He was authoritative in everything. He fought at the front, defended the road of life leading to Lake Ladoga in besieged Leningrad. He returned with awards. Almost all male relatives also served in the navy. My father is also a former military man, after his service he began working as an institute teacher, his mother was an engineer at a factory.
Since childhood, I wanted to be an archaeologist, my grandfather had a large library, I read a lot of historical books, says Sergei Dyukarev. - But they persistently convinced me to become a naval officer. No one had the right to contradict grandfather. It was necessary to maintain the naval honor of the family. Although my grandfather admitted more than once that since childhood he dreamed of becoming a writer. Apparently, he gave me the desire to write. After school I went to school to become a submariner. But two years later the school was transferred to St. Petersburg. I refused to move. They drafted me into the army. He served another two years in the navy. He returned home after service and entered college as a correspondence student.
Roaring nineties and a lot of vodka
He says that the 90s broke him personally. And not only him. According to him, finding himself in that chaos was not easy. People who previously lived approximately the same way suddenly became stratified. Some became fabulously rich, while others found themselves on the margins of life.
I wanted to have a VCR, a car, I wanted to be like those who already had all this,” says Dyukarev. - We got together with friends and opened a cafe on the embankment. Money appeared. Vodka flowed like a river every evening. We went out of town, organized races, even flew in the oncoming lane. We lived like the last day, as they say, without any brakes. Although the brakes should be primarily in the head. But who thought about it then! Many of us have become infected with the virus of self-destruction, self-destruction. In our company, even the motto read: “I wish I could live to be 25,” “I wish I could live to be 30.” Personally, what killed me the most was rudeness. After all, I was brought up in an intelligent family, I knew what tact and attentive attitude towards people were. And here rudeness flourished at every step. They responded with rudeness to rudeness. That's why they started fights. Someone was always settling scores with someone. Shots were heard. It's scary to remember! Of course, this couldn't end well. And so it happened. At 26 I found myself behind bars. If this had not happened, it is unknown whether he would have remained alive. There was uncertainty and uncertainty then, as there is now.
No hope of salvation
Here, behind bars, I think about simple life things,” says the life-sentenced prisoner. - For example, I want to walk barefoot on the grass, plant a tree or swim in the sea, I grew up by the sea. I didn’t understand this when I was free. Now I understand, but it is impossible to do this. And it is unknown whether it will ever become possible. People like me don’t know what awaits us next. If other prisoners who have been given a sentence have the hope of being released even earlier, which is possible if they adhere to the regime, then we do not know anything about our tomorrow. This uncertainty stretches to infinity. You look beyond the horizon and don’t know what’s there. You can't change anything. Even during the commission of a crime, the victim has at least some hope of salvation: the gun may misfire and not fire, the knife may break, or some other chance of salvation may arise. In our situation there is no hope.
The convict says that he believed in God and reformed.
This is probably not entirely fair, but maybe the convict has reformed? He believed in the Almighty, he wants to continue to live according to his laws, but a person is deprived of such an opportunity. If there is no such scale of assessment - whether you have corrected yourself or not, then let's take pictures of the aura, and everything will become clear. Uncertainty and the unknown kills. It’s not for nothing that they sometimes say: it would be better to be shot!
Afraid of meeting his daughter
The convict admitted that he had terrible dreams. Not often, but I dream about it. His greatest desire is to see his daughter. At the same time, he says that he is not yet ready to meet her.
I want to see how she is, to know who she grew up to be, what her interests are, how she lives,” says Sergei, a lifer. - I know that he studies in college. But my meeting may turn out to be such that I ask the child for something. I have no right to do this. First you have to give something in order to ask. But I gave very little, in fact, nothing. She was four years old when I was taken away. And I don’t want to meet in such an atmosphere. Prison is no place for a child.
For the same reason he does not write letters. To not ask for anything, not to make excuses, not to explain, since nothing will change anyway: what happened, happened. But he dedicated the book to the child from the bottom of his heart. Bigger than his love for her. I wrote every page with my family in mind. He put a piece of his soul and heart into every word.
Imprisoned for the murder of a business partner
Convict Sergei Dyukarev and his accomplice killed a business partner in his apartment. They did this in the presence of his wife. He was as young as they were. I wanted to live just like them.
In 1996, in addition to cafes on the sea coast, we also established a construction business and began building a residential building,” says convict Dyukarev. - Every business has its pitfalls. During the construction of the house there were especially many of them. So we came to find out some circumstances. The Almighty stopped us that evening. On the way, the car broke down. This was a sign to think about it. Instead, out of anger, the faster they began to look for other transport. The worst thing is that we were not just partners, but knew each other well. For someone to say that the conversation would end in death, I would never believe such a thing.
Passions were fueled by alcohol. Next to the owner of the apartment was a woman with whom Dyukarev had once met. Beautiful, spectacular, but no longer his. On March 16, 1996, the court sentenced Dyukarev to life imprisonment. His partner was given 15 years.
To look at him, the bespectacled man, you can’t tell that he could kill a fly, let alone a person. My face was not successful. Judges are people too. In a word, they sold me, as an organizer, to the fullest, and he is already free,” says Dyukarev.
Shortly before his business partner was killed, Dyukarev passed state exams at the institute. The defense of my thesis was scheduled for May.
In ancient times, long ago, there lived one sovereign prince. More than anything in the world, he loved to listen to fairy tales. His close associates would come to him: “What would you like to have fun with today, Prince?” There are a lot of all kinds of animals in the forest: boars, deer, and foxes... - No, I don’t want to go hunting. It’s better to tell me fairy tales, but more authentic ones. The prince would begin to carry out justice. He would complain to him, offended by the guilty one: - He deceived me, completely ruined me... And the guilty one would answer: - Prince, I know a new fairy tale. - Long? - Long, long and a terrible, terrible one. - Well, tell me! Here is the court and the council! The prince will hold advice, and there they will tell him nothing but tall tales. The prince’s servants ran around all the villages in that region, asking everyone if anyone knew a new fairy tale that was more interesting. They set up outposts along the road: - Hey, traveler, stop! Stop, they tell you! The traveler will be stunned with fright. What kind of trouble has come! - Stop, tell the truth! Were you on the seabed visiting the king of the sea? - No, no, no. I didn’t have the chance. - Did you fly on a crane? - No, no, I didn’t fly. I swear, I didn’t fly! - Well, you’ll fly with us if right now, right there, in this very place, you don’t weave stranger tales. But no one could please the prince. - Fairy tales in our times were short, skimpy... Just start listen early in the morning to how the fairy tale ends in the evening. No, those are the wrong fairy tales now, the wrong ones... And the prince ordered to announce everywhere: “Who will come up with such a long fairy tale that the prince will say: “Enough!” - he will receive as a reward everything he wants.” Well, here, from all over Japan, from near and far islands, the most skillful storytellers flocked to the prince’s castle. There were also some among them who talked incessantly all day, and all night to boot. But not once did the prince say: “Enough!” He just sighs: - What a fairy tale! Short, shorter than a sparrow's nose. If I had the nose of a crane, I would have awarded it! But then one day a gray-haired, hunched old woman came to the castle. “I dare to report that I am the first master in Japan to tell long fairy tales.” Many have visited you, but none of them are even suitable for me to be my students. The servants were delighted and brought her to the prince. “Begin,” the prince ordered. “But watch me, it will be bad for you if you boasted in vain.” I’m tired of short fairy tales. “It was a long time ago,” the old woman began. “A hundred large ships are sailing on the sea, heading towards our island.” The ships are loaded to the very brim with precious goods: not silk, not coral, but frogs. - What do you say - frogs? - the prince was surprised. - Interesting, I’ve never heard anything like this before. Apparently, you really are a master of fairy tales. - You'll hear more, prince. Frogs are sailing on a ship. Unfortunately, as soon as our shore appeared in the distance, all a hundred ships - fuck! - they hit the rocks at once. And the waves all around are boiling and raging. The frogs here began to hold advice. “Come on, sisters,” says one frog, “let’s swim to the shore before our ships are smashed into small pieces.” I’m the eldest, I’ll set an example.” She galloped to the side of the ship. “Kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva.” Where the head goes, the legs go.” And he jumped into the water - splash! Then the second frog jumped to the side of the ship. “Kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva.” Where one frog goes, so does another.” And he jumped into the water - splash! Then the third frog jumped to the side of the ship. “Kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva.” Where there are two frogs, there is a third one.” And he jumped into the water - plop! Then the fourth frog jumped to the side of the ship... The old woman talked all day long, and did not count all the frogs even on one ship. And when all the frogs from the first ship jumped, the old woman began to count the frogs on the other: “The first frog jumped to the side of the ship: “Kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva.” Where the head goes, the legs go.” And he jumped into the water - splash!... The old woman did not stop talking for seven days. On the eighth day the prince could not stand it: “Enough, enough!” I have no more strength. - As you order, prince. But it's a pity. I just started working on the seventh ship. There are still many frogs left. But there is nothing to do. Give me the promised reward, I'll go home. - What an impudent old woman! She has done the same thing, like autumn rain, and also asks for a reward. - But you said: “Enough!” And the prince’s word, as I have always heard, is stronger than a thousand-year-old pine. The prince sees that you can’t talk your way out of an old woman. He ordered to give her a rich reward and drive her out the door. For a long time the prince kept hearing in his ears: “Kva-kva-kva, kva-kva-kva... Jumping into the water - splash!” Since then, the prince stopped loving long fairy tales.