[моё] FATEFUL THUNDERSTORM

Sometimes we run from the rain, not knowing that beneath it someone is finding their fate.

Evening.
The summer day that had seemed perfect was gradually fading away.

People were walking in the park, enjoying the soft sunlight.
They sat on benches, talked, and laughed.
Everyone was in a good mood.
And it seemed that this day would never end.

But suddenly the sky began to darken.

Shadows thickened all around.
The sun disappeared.
Heavy clouds rolled in.

A chill came into the air.
And soon the first drops of rain began to fall from the sky.

The rain grew stronger.

People slowly moved under the nearest canopies or into passageways.
Umbrellas were opened.
But against this heavenly water they were powerless — the fabric soaked through in seconds.

Suddenly, a police officer, Sergeant Vasiliev, emerged from the gray haze.

He was driven by only one desire:
To help people.
To make sure everyone was all right.

He was soaked to the bone.
His uniform grew heavy with water.
But he did not abandon his post.
He kept directing the flow of people.

Suddenly the sergeant heard a strange crackling sound.

His intuition told him: trouble was coming.

He quickly glanced across the square:
it seemed everyone had left, and the people were safe.

But then his gaze caught on a lonely bench deep in the park.

There, beneath the overhanging branches, sat the figure of a woman.

Could it be an illusion? — a thought flashed through his mind.

But there was no time to hesitate.
The crackling grew louder, turning into a harsh, terrifying screech of breaking wood.

An old tree, weakened by time and storm, was dangerously leaning right over the girl.

She saw nothing.
She sat lost in her thoughts.
She didn’t care about the rain, the wind, or the whole world.

And above her, a huge weight was already falling.

Vasiliev dashed forward.
Without thinking.
Without weighing the risks.

He rushed into the danger zone.
At the last moment he grabbed the girl by the shoulders and pushed her forward with all his strength.

They both collapsed onto the wet ground.

The crash of the falling tree deafened the park.
But they were out of harm’s way.

She was all right.
Just a small scratch on her cheek.

— Miss, why didn’t you go to shelter? — the sergeant asked, gasping for breath.

The girl lay silently on the ground, unable to get up.
Vasiliev understood why:
He was lying on her chest, pinning her down with his weight.

He quickly rolled off and got to his feet.
But he immediately winced in pain.

— My leg... It hurts a lot.
Looks like a branch got stuck, he hissed.

The girl, as if waking from a trance, instantly pulled herself together.
She began to give first aid with whatever was at hand.

She took off her belt.
Skillfully bandaged the wound.
The blood stopped dripping.
She even had to tear the sergeant’s trousers to get to the wound.

— It’s all right, she said quietly.

The policeman looked at her anxiously:
— Miss, are you all right? I fell on you with all my weight!

— Be quiet, comrade, all questions later, she replied firmly but gently.

— But... — he tried to object.

— Don’t waste your strength! What were you even doing here in weather like this?

But the sergeant could no longer speak.
He had lost a lot of blood.
The world around him began to blur.

Meanwhile, the rain eased and soon stopped altogether.

People cautiously came out of their shelters.
The park once again filled with the hum of voices.

Only the girl did not leave.
She stayed nearby.
While Vasiliev lay in a semi-conscious state.

She talked to him.
Pinched his arm.
Did everything she could to keep him from losing consciousness completely.

Opening his eyes, Vasiliev saw a white ceiling.

He was in the hospital.
Beside him, asleep in a chair with her head bowed, was the girl.
She had been there all the time: day and night, not leaving his side for a moment.

He quickly looked around the ward, trying to figure out where he was.
But he recognized the girl at once.

— Tanechka Gvozdeva? — he weakly said.

— The same one from kindergarten?

The girl flinched and opened her eyes.
Seeing him alive, she smiled through tears.

— Dimочка Vasilevich! You recognized me?
What a fate!
How many years, how many winters...
And you’re still the same hero.

They lived a long life.
They died on the same day, holding each other’s hands.

Fate often hides behind the most ordinary rain.

Telegram group at the link below