How I Caught Little People. Stories

When I was little, I was taken to live with my grandmother. Above the table at my grandmother's house, there was a shelf. And on the shelf, there was a toy steamboat. I had never seen anything like it. It looked completely real, only small. It had a chimney: yellow with two black stripes on it. And two masts. From the masts, there were rope ladders going down to the sides. At the stern, there was a little house, like a cabin. Polished, with windows and a door. And right at the stern— a brass steering wheel. Below the stern— a rudder. And the propeller gleamed in front of the rudder, like a brass rose. There were two anchors at the bow. Oh, how wonderful! If only I had just one like that!

I immediately asked my grandmother to let me play with the steamboat. My grandmother allowed me everything. But then suddenly she frowned:

— Don't even ask for that. Not to play— you shouldn't even touch it. Never! It's a dear memory for me.

I could see that even if I cried, it wouldn't help.

And the little steamboat stood proudly on the shelf on its polished stands. I couldn't take my eyes off it. My grandmother:

— Promise me you won't touch it. Or I'll better hide it for safety. — And she went to the shelf.

I was about to cry and shouted at the top of my lungs:

— I promise, I really promise, grandmother. — And I grabbed my grandmother's skirt. My grandmother did not take away the steamboat.

I kept staring at the steamboat. I climbed onto a chair to see better. And it seemed more and more real to me. The little door on the cabin had to open. And probably, little people lived in it. Small, just the right size for the steamboat. They must be a bit shorter than a match. I started waiting to see if any of them would peek out of the window. They were probably spying. And when no one was home, they would come out on deck. They probably climbed the ladders to the masts.

And at the slightest noise— like mice: they’d dart into the cabin. Down— and hide. I watched for a long time when I was alone in the room. No one peeked out. I hid behind the door and looked through a crack. And they are clever, those little bastards, they know that I'm spying. Aha! They work at night, when no one can scare them away. Clever.

I started to gulp down my tea quickly. And I asked to go to sleep.

My grandmother said:

— What’s this? You never wanted to go to bed, and now you’re asking to sleep at such an early hour.

And so, when we settled down, my grandmother turned off the light. And the steamboat was not visible. I deliberately tossed and turned so that the bed creaked.

My grandmother:

— Why are you tossing and turning so much?

— I’m afraid to sleep without a light. At home, they always turn on a nightlight at night. — I lied: it’s completely dark at home at night.

My grandmother scolded me, but she got up. She fiddled around for a long time and set up a nightlight. It burned poorly. But still, I could see how the steamboat gleamed on the shelf.

I covered myself with the blanket over my head, made a little house for myself, and peeked through a small hole. Soon I looked so closely that I could see everything perfectly on the steamboat. I watched for a long time. The room was completely quiet. Only the clock was ticking.

Suddenly, something rustled quietly. I became alert— the rustling was on the steamboat. And then it seemed like the little door opened slightly. My breath caught. I moved forward slightly. The damn bed creaked. I spooked the little person!

Now there was nothing to wait for, and I fell asleep. Out of sorrow, I fell asleep.

The next day I came up with something. The little people must eat something. If I give them a candy, it would be like a whole bounty for them. I need to break off a piece of the lollipop and put it on the steamboat, near the cabin. Right by the doors. But a piece that wouldn’t fit right through their little doors. When they open the doors at night, they’ll peek through the crack. Wow! A candy!

For them, it’s like an entire box. Right then they will run out to quickly haul the candy back. They’ll try to fit it through the door, but it won’t go! They will hurry back, bring tiny axes— real little ones— and start tapping with those axes: tap-tap! tap-tap! And quickly try to push the candy into the door. They are clever; they just want everything to work out smoothly. So they don't get caught.