About this blog

Hi there! My name is Viktoria, and I'm a native Russian speaker, dividing her time between Saint-Petersburg, Omsk and Moscow. I love many things, and writing is amongst them. Not only I love writing in Russian, I want to learn how to write fiction literature in English. Also I plan to move to New Zealand on August 15 (2013) so English will soon become my main language of interaction. Therefore, this blog.

I'll try to write daily a little something about moving to New Zealand, and also about writing. Feel free to tell me when I make mistakes. I mean it! :-)

Thursday 7 February 2013

Story proceeds

Today an old friend stumbled upon me and contacted me. We were friends five or six years ago, we played together on the "Night City" forum, and one time this persion figuratevely speaking hold my hand when I thought my lover might be dead. Oh, my... how long ago it was! Now we are no more than acquintances with a shared past we both hardly remember. That's life for you. The greatest and the longest story of them all.

My Anko - the prototype for my Richard-Alexander guy - has actually met the character who was played by that friend of mine. That was a crazy night for both our characters, with a serial killer on a loose. Which reminds me, I need to be thinking of James and Richard-Alexander right now.

Tamara, James's mother, was a second generation USA citizen with Russian parents. She was insouciant, even reckless at times, and she didn't really know how to take care of herself. She was also beautiful and charming. Richard-Alexander fell for her in high school. He was a year behind her, and though she knew about his crush, she laughed about it when she noticed him, and most of the time she didn't notice him at all. On the prom (her prom) she suddenly (for Ric) seduced him and literally fucked him in the locker room. And that was it. He thought she finally fell for him, he tried to reach her, he called her - all to no avail. Two months later her family moved to another state, and he never saw Tamara again until years later.

What Richard didn't know was that Tamara got pregnant that night. Her parents wanted her to have an abortion, and when she declined... well, that didn't end well. Few years of really bad relationships, and finally they renounced her and kicked her out with a baby. Nevertheless, she managed to find a job and a place in life, she was a strong girl, and she made friends easily. James grew up in cheap motels and flats, with a mother who was either working hard or having fun with one of her "boys". Tamara wasn't a bad mother, she just never grew old, not really. Forever young, forever beautiful, never wanting to find her one true love, get married and have a nest. Or maybe, wanting and not finding it. She never complained. She smiled a lot. She loved to sing, and James used to sing with her, when he was a little boy. They were happy in their own way. James learned to take care of himself, and he learned to take care of his mother. He learned not to get overly attached to men who got to live with them from time to time - it never lasted for long. He studied hard when he could, because there wasn't much for him to get except that free education system gave everyone. He fought more often than he wanted, because, lets face it, a boy with no father and a mother who changes her men on a monthly basis is no favorite in a small town. But all in all, he was doing fine: he had friends, few teachers liked him, he took care of his mother and she took care of him. And then his world crushed with one word: cancer. Diagnosed too late, it was a death sentense.

James was about to be left alone and to get into foster care. That's when Tamara for the first time in years decided she need help, not for herself, but for her son. For Richard's son. She didn't have a lot of hope, but she had to at least try. She was lucky: she found Ric, and he agreed to meet her. And this is how James met his father for the first time.

P.S.: This should have been posted yesterday, but blogger service was broken.

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