One of the draft fairytale

Once a young soldier had a dream about the magic tree. Long ago in his country many fair trees grew, all in different shapes and forms: from stinging holly trees to bald broad-stemmed ones. But after, only the short and flat as the dishes have been left.

«I will find them» – a man thought quietly so no one would hear. He pulled his old boots and fled over the fence but he didn’t know which way to go. Then an old man with long gray hair approached him.

– I’ve heard you are looking for a magic tree. I will tell you a secret where it grows. But when you’ll find it, look into my eyes so the night comes.

– Ain’t you fooling me! Tell a secret!

The old man told him a secret. The magic tree grew in the foreign land about which the soldier hadn’t any knowledge. That’s why he went there as if to his own home. And so he went far and lost his breath. His boots have tried different ground: sticky, loose, slippery, yet they don't trample such a flat and clear surface in a new direction.

At last, the soldier has found something to cling to. He climbed the high mountain from which you could see many forest clouds. Under them many think trunks grew but all not he was looking for. But the soldier was quite a thinker. He got an idea to drain the stream that gave water to the trees. And as soon as they wither he would easily find the magic log among the dead ones. So he took a nuclear bomb from his pocket and swooped it on a thin stream. When he finished, he laid on the stinking ground and gazed as the forest horizon was fading. Suddenly he knew what he would ask from the magic twigs. Soon he would walk all dressed up and pose for portraits in European cities. If he knew how to cry he would. And with this thought he fell asleep.

Waves pulled the soldier’s body on the shore. The man woke up and firly stood. Then twenty generals all in ribbenes and orders came out of the water and went on dry land. And the aggrieved was neither combed nor dressed orderly. Afraid of generals' rage he ran in all the directions and would be all torn apart if he hadn’t seen the path. The path led to the wild forest so there soldiers' feet jumped. His ears burned from barbed rods. His boots champed, filling themselves with black porridge. The tongue on the mouth waddled from where the incomprehensible words jostled.

– Get them! Want them! – the man muttered.

– What do you want? – A bird voice spoke.

A grey stork sat at the edge of heaven and played its bird music. And the wishing tree seemed behind it rooted in eternity. A lump of leaves behind the back of the tree pulled it closer to the ground and quit all the worries of the soldier’s soul.

– «Love! Give me love!» – the soldier croaked.

Just as he said those words the dark night has come. And a mirror appeared before him. In the reflection he saw an old stranger. Pig-skinned, pale-faced and with long hair covering the eyes. From such reflection the mirror cracked in half and the old man's desire was not fulfilled because he couldn't stand any fragment in which his face was reflected.

So the old man croaked something into the void and slowly crawled away.