My paper for English 101H class of prof. F.Libman.
Escape.

I never wanted to go to the pioneer-camp, but when I was 9 years old my parents got that idea of sending me away for a month to give me a better understanding of social life in our society; at least I see it this way now. Somehow my parents managed to persuade me that such an experience was worth trying it, and I was put together with other kids on a train, going away from Moscow. We got out at the forest railway station, it was the beginning of summer and an endless rain. It is considered to be a good luck in Russia to leave for some place while it rains. It did not work out that time though.

From the train station we were taken to the camp. The camp was great — my Grand Dad was well-known plane-constructor, so he got a place for me in a really nice pioneer-camp, not very far from Moscow, located in a beautiful forest, with good food and good facilities. But when we got there they made us to line up in columns and there was an endless speech under an endless rain about something communist, and we were really tired after the long way to the camp. Something went wrong with the flag, it did not want to climb higher on its wire, and I just could not hold my hand in a salute for such a long time. Raising the flag and speeches lasted for about an hour, and we were told that we would have such nice events at least four times a day. Then they told us that we had some time to acknowledge ourselves with the camp before the dinner. Nobody seemed to pay any attention at us after the lining; some kids were making fun of others in quite a rude way, and I left to explore the place alone. I particularly remember one feature of that camp – an endless paved road to the upper part. The road was decorated with endless white plaster (at least they seemed to be plaster) statures of young pioneer heroes, and almost all of them were playing on a horn or on a drum. One was not playing though, his name was Pavlik Morosov and he was famous for telling on his parents to get them shot. They were killed because they brought some food to Pavlik's Grand Dad, who was hiding in the woods from Communists, because he served in the Tzar Army before Communists came. Since then Pavlik was an example for other young pioneers, showing them the right behavior in such a situation.

It was still raining, but I had my waterproof coat on me. I was walking by the wet trees and cut bushes until I came to the huge wall with a wire on its top. It was forbidden to go out from the camp. I continued to walk along the wall and soon I found the gates. I came closer to them; definitely a man or two were there in a small booth. There was a small opening in the gates, and I was looking there for a moment. Deep emptiness was inside me, the place was alienate and unknown to me, and I did not like the neglecting indifference of the adults and rude kids. I did not like Pavlik's presence there as well. He was considered to be a hero, but my Dad was always talking to me about that and other issues of our Soviet childhood. My Mom was getting really sick of those explanations usually, because she was afraid I could accidentally tell somebody my Dad's views. I was standing there in front of the gates in deep anticipation and desperation and suddenly I understood that I did not want to be in that place anymore. My heart filled with joy and excitement and I quietly sneaked outside the gates. Feeling huge growing happiness inside me I hurried up to the forest. None of the guards noticed me; probably they were playing cards or drinking there. I reached the forest very quickly and was almost running for the first few minutes, overwhelmed by joy and the unknown feeling of being all by myself. My plan was to walk all the way to railway station. Then I planned to get on the train to make my way to Moscow. I hoped that I would somehow find our apartment there, despite the fact that I did not have any idea how to get there in that big city. Meanwhile it rained really hard. My coat started to get wet, but I did not care about it much at first, captured by that feeling of being all alone, without any people in the wild and vast forest. Leaves, flowers and grasses were all dull and heavy under the rain. It smelled of wet ground, fresh air, fairy-tale herbs and adventure. But soon my totally wet clothes disturbed me, because it was very cold. I think that it was probably one of the coldest Junes in history, because even my breath seemed to get frozen. Sometimes I was crying quietly, because it was so cold and I did not know where I was going, but the thought of turning back made me desperate and brave, and I continued walking. Soon I was not knowing for sure, whether I was crying or not, because my face was so wet that I did not feel any tears. Despite the rain it was so quiet and strange in that forest that I did not dare to cry loud or scream. Once I crossed a small spring and I was stunned and lured by it, because the water in it seemed to get frozen — it got that thin white film on the surface. It was very strange, because it was summer, and I decided not to think about the phenomena for a long time.

After endless walking, being exhausted and very tired I finally found an empty asphalt road. I lost all my clues about the direction; water was dropping down from my clothes and me. I decided to hitchhike and ask about the way or try to get to the station by car. My parents always warned me about such things, but I thought that that case was an exception, and it was indeed. I was totally lost, wet and cold; there were no people or cars, only the forest and an empty road. It was getting dark.

After some time, while I was walking in randomly chosen direction on the road I've heard the noise of the upcoming car. It was a big truck, and I hold my hand up to stop it. It did stop, and I opened the big door.

— I've escaped from the pioneer-camp," — I confessed to the old driver. I was too tired to lie to him. — "I would like to get to some train station and get back to Moscow, please." He looked at me with some anxious and strange impression on his tired and worn face. — "Get in." The cabin of the truck was unexpectedly high, but somehow I made my way into it. The engine roared and we drove off. After a while he told me, that I got pretty far from any railway stations he knew. He told me he'd better drive me to the nearest police station. I tried to persuade him not to do it, but he said they would call my parents, so they could rescue me, or help me in any way. We drove to the small police station house and I got off. I was very humiliated and sorry because of the huge wet spot I left on the truck seat and on its floor. But the man told me it was OK and wished me good luck. That time I decided to make up some story about me getting lost from my group and willing to get to the station. I also thought that it might be a good idea to call to my Grand Dad. I came into the warm police room filled with cigarette smoke and started:

— Nice to see you! You know, I somehow got lost from my group and I need to get to the rail-station to make it up to Moscow.

—Oh, yeah! Come in! They already called us million of times from your camp. They will be here in a moment.

.....I was too tired and weak to protest. They gave me some hot tea and I almost recovered when I heard the row of the police siren from the outside. Yes, they did miss me a lot — three cars came to pick me up — a police car, an ambulance and a van with our cheerleaders. They seemed to be really happy to see me, and none of them ever said anything bad to me for that going away from the camp. They put me into ambulance car despite my protests and reassuring them that I was fine. And with siren roaring we drove back to the camp.

Everything changed from that time in the camp for me. All kids treated me really carefully as though I was sick recently. All grown-ups paid so much attention to me as though I was still sick. They never made me to go to the morning lining and singing; they just tried to be nice and careful. In fact they turned out to be really nice people, and for a while I felt a sort of a guilt, especially when I understood what would happen to them, if somebody from the camp management in Moscow learnt about that accident. But I just could not do it in the other way, it would rape my soul if I didn't get out of that camp that day. Since then I always tried to escape when it felt suffocative to stay somewhere, because I think it is better to be all wet, cold and lost than to tolerate something that you have a chance to escape.

My parents took me away from that camp in the next three days as soons as they learnt about my escape — people from the camp were too scared to tell them about the accident right away. I was happy to be back at my country house, and to spend the rest of the summer there with my Grand parents and friends.

The funny thing was that the next summer I decided to try the same pioneer-camp again, that time with my cousin Iva. Even despite statures of Pavliks and morning linings it was an exciting and great trip, we had a wonderful time, made a lot of new friends and came home after a month happy and joyful. This second trip helped me to understand that some events in this life that might be hard to tolerate for now can become better in time; and a life you wish to escape now can be a dream-life in future. But everything needs to be done at the right time, and if it is not, it is always better to run away from it.



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