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This is the first story of my cycle, "City".
It is called "Habit." Actually, This is real story about my friends.
I translated it from Russian, so it may be that is not always accurate selection of words. I would be glad if you indicate to me my mistakes.
I hope you enjoy.
Sincerely Samanata Black.
It is called "Habit." Actually, This is real story about my friends.
I translated it from Russian, so it may be that is not always accurate selection of words. I would be glad if you indicate to me my mistakes.
I hope you enjoy.
Sincerely Samanata Black. She was sitting in an armchair and reading a book. She looked very comfortable in their small living room in their small apartment. He sat on the floor and stared at her. He always liked to watch how she is doing it. But she didn't like when he followed her like that observed.
- Am I like a clown? - She asked, as at their first meeting. And every time he smiled, embarrassed, blushed and tried to go somewhere. Then he invented a way out: he sat on the floor, like today, and pretended that he wrote a new song. She is in response pretended not to notice that he hadn't written a single word or note. She just knew that he had never wean him from this, but it's better let it pretend to be busy than openly staring at her. The girl has always read slowly, thoughtfully, her lips moving silently pronouncing each word. - Why are you doing that? - He asked, once again, watching the girl. They then were students and went to the Christmas holidays in the Lake District. Living-room house that they rented was very similar to this, it was as small and cozy, and its windows looked out on the lake. - You know, words, they are alive. Each of them means something. They aren't just a set of symbols and sounds. They are strength, intelligence, something immortal. Creatures that live independently of us or mountains, for example. They just were, are and will be. They can not just read, they need to verbalize. Then he first realized how much he loved her. As their romance is not regular, it is the only one. With all that was before it was empty, childishness search ... call it whatever you want! It's not about name, it is about feelings.
Since that evening was almost three years. And he still admired the way she reads. Often, he bought her books only to look at this action.
- Alex, you are fetishist! - Abruptly withdrawn young man from a state of trance, light-brown hair girl. She looked at him reproachfully at the same time and ridicule. She often teasing him so. Having emerged from the pool of memories, he was somewhat surprised, with the offense looked at the girl. While there he began to blush because of the fact that he was again caught for voyeurism.
- Kate, what is "love"?
- "Love"? Strange question. How do I know? - Surprise girl, looking straight into the Alexe's brown eyes. - In my opinion, you're an expert in this field. You're writing songs about it.
- I don't write about it, but about you - quietly replied the young man and went to the kitchen. Their life was quiet. Everything went on as usual, occasionally something happened and disrupted the order. For example, most recently, Kate came home drunk. She went to a meeting with his school friends. The girl always came back with such gatherings tipsy, but this time she was really drunk. In this state, he saw her the second time in his life. The girl barely got to the sofa in the living room. He did what he could to help he, then he sat down beside on the carpet. - You hate me, don't you?
- No, I love you more than life ... Although, no, I love you just like life.
- What I have a difficult rival, - sadly girl smirked.
- Foolishly mine - he smiled. - My life is you. I have nowhere to go from you. It seemed that she was asleep, and he went to brew strong tea, which will be needed when the girl wakes up. But he went to the door, she suddenly said:
- It isn't love. Its already we don't. It's all a long time habit. He didn't take offense to it then, don't take offense now. He never knew her to be offended, it is simply not worked. He just went into another room and sat there alone, something thinking. Today, he went to the kitchen. He stood leaning against the refrigerator, and looked out the window.
There, behind glass, the seething life: on the street cars were driving in the yard with the kids running around and screaming, and adults rushed off somewhere on their business. He looked at the town and remembered the day when they met. It was an ordinary summer evening, one of what often happens in this city. He went from the rehearsal through the park. She sat on a bench and read. Then he first saw how she does it, pronouncing each word. Perhaps, in this moment, when he first saw her this strange feature, he fell in love with her. Fascinated, he sat on a bench in front and began to look at her. He had forgotten about the time and decency, and therefore very surprised when I heard her voice just above the ear:
- Am I like a clown? - What? No, no - he blushed, just like today and immediately tried to withdraw.
After this fleeting meeting, a girl, talks during the reading of words became his obsession. He might think she was just a bad read, but such a person will not sit in the park with "Master and Margarita". Every day he came again and again on that alley. He walked all that were nearby, but was never able to find her. Their next meeting took place at a concert band in which he played. She stood in front of the stage next to him and enjoyed the music is playing. Barely finished their performance, as he fused his guitar techniques and jumped into the hall. Fortunately, while he was still a long way to the current "stardom". He approached her from behind and said quietly, so that only she heard:
- And am I like a clown? - There is a little - with a smile she replied, and turned to him. That evening, he learned her name. He learned that she attending the same university, but only on Philology. He learned that she is sure to become a good writer and that she liked their music. He learned that if she just wanted to get acquainted, and he escaped. What then she was sick, that's why he couldn't find her. And now everything will be fine.
She could have at least a lifetime to say that they don't love each other and that they together out of habit. But it wasn't the case. He knew that he loved her and that will not give her to anyone. From the room heard the sound of the television, and soon replaced by another ad spot splash of their favorite shows. He poured two cups of tea, took a packet of biscuits and returned to the room. The girl was sitting on the couch, and her book has already managed to move to the coffee table.
- Thank you - a barely audible voice she said in response to the proffered cup and immediately placed it next to his cup on the table.
He sat on the couch and started watching the show. The girl laughed a lot and loudly, as he again secretly admired her.
- I love you, - he said softly, hugging her.
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10 Comment(s) posted so far
On Feb 10, 2010 martoele wrote:
Hi Samantha! Your story is very beautiful.
We can tell that you're not used to writing in english but by the words you use I can feel that you must be a fantastic storyteller in your own language. I am not the indicated person to tell you the mistakes and I'm sure that you will improve. I myself was born in Holland and for me it's difficult as well but I make progresses, at least that's what I think. I believe that the people who read your story here will understand very well what you mean. I will be looking out to see your next chapter. By the way... these characters are very pretty, especially the boy. Are they your own creations? 
Hugs from Margo.
On Feb 10, 2010 Golden97 wrote:
You must of worked hard in this story, to translate it and everything, i really enjoyed reading it
On Feb 10, 2010 fredbrenny wrote:
Besides the beautiful simmies and the wonderful screenshots it's a very nice story. You did a great job translating it and although you had to translate it from Russian, the English you used is a great read and you used beautifully choosen words!
On Feb 11, 2010 Mangio wrote:
wow
wonderful job on the translation. writing any other language their your native is really hard. great story 
loved it so much 
the people look so gorgeous, i could just fall in love with them =P
On Feb 11, 2010 Illandrya wrote:
Oh, how I wish I could read Russian so that I could read this story in its native tongue, I imagine it would read like poetry. I commend you on the translation, the message most definitely came across. It was a beautiful story full of accompanied by gorgeous images. Congratulations!
On Feb 12, 2010 drewsoltesz wrote:
A little choppy in the translation, but lovely nonetheless, nice to see a Sims 2 story! Lovely looking sims and great shots!
On Feb 13, 2010 Sim-Girl123 wrote:
this is one of the must stupidest stories ever!
i cant belive i wasted my time reading this
On Feb 15, 2010 mogan44 wrote:
I can tell that if I could read Russian and you posted this in Russian, it would be even more beautiful. Thank you for sharing!!!
On Feb 17, 2010 DarkMoon689 wrote:
Sweet story, I enjoy it. Even though sometimes the words feel a bit out of place (I'm not rigth person to say that either cause english is not my native languge), still is really nice, you'll get hang of the translating, is just practice, and a lot reading. It's a lovely story, I glimpse of someone else life.
On Mar 30, 2010 Divinefelinep. wrote:
this is a beautiful story i like the way your characters look they look so real!