Henry

 

Heniek woke with a strange feeling that he'd overslept. He opened his eyes and poked the top of his head out from under the two blankets, keeping his nose warm under the blankets heated by his own body. The room was dark. He slowly reached out, grabbed a long stick, and flicked on the light. The switch was on the other side of his room. "Room" was a rather extravagant name for a 6-square-meter cubicle, but there wasn't much room for him in a two-story house with six rooms. And what kind of rooms were those? A downstairs hall, a guest room, his father's bedroom, his mother's bedroom, and a guest room. But Heniek wasn't thinking about that at the moment. He'd been looking at his watch for a while now, rubbing his eyes, pinching his cheeks and side, and even sticking out the tip of his foot so the terrifying cold might wake him. He still thought he was somehow still dreaming. The watch showed 10:03. He'd overslept.

But how was it possible that he hadn't heard the lovely wake-up call once? He hadn't heard the familiar words: "Damn it, get up, you lazy bum! You never get enough sleep like your father, grandmother, and the rest of your family!" And why was it so dark? He finally summoned all his strength and looked out the window, which was normally located right above him. It was dark. The glass sparkled with all the colors of the rainbow. It had sparkled like that for about six months, the light reflecting off the ice shards, creating beautiful patterns on the glass.

"Well! Boris. Time to get up, get ready!" Heniek said, his gaze drifting to the depths of the blankets. He pulled back the covers slightly. After a moment, a black cat's head emerged from under the blankets. The cat yawned, leaving only a large pink face and a bit of black fur visible from Heniek's perspective. He muttered something more and quickly retreated back into his warm bed.

Heniek jumped out of bed in one bound and quickly donned a sheepskin coat hanging from a nail driven into the sloping wooden roof. He opened the door and stepped into the warm hallway. Heniek's room was as extraordinary as he was. Once a mere tool shed, it had been the only unheated room in the entire house. In the hallway, a fire crackled in the fireplace. His parents were sitting at the table. He recognized them primarily by their slippers, as the upper parts were carefully covered with newspapers.

"You're finally up," he heard his mother's voice from behind the newspaper. Some rising star from a Polish television series smiled at him from the cover. Inside, there were probably more recipes for unusual dishes, which his mother would soon begin testing on her boys.

"We have to do something about this," was his father's voice. A hand briefly emerged from behind the newspaper and pointed to the window.

"What's wrong?" Heniek asked.

"Go upstairs and see."

Heniek shuffled up the stairs. He stood at the window. A telling word escaped his lips:

"Oh, shit!"

The snow reached the first-story windows.

"Get a passage to the road, or we'll starve," he heard his mother say again.

"A passage?! A tunnel, I think."

Heniek proudly held the title of village idiot in the village. He stood out from everyone else because, instead of spending money on some kind of voltaic system, he bought strange newspapers with the strange-sounding name "National Something." Instead of a collection of beer mugs and pictures of naked women, he lined the shelves with books, which he also read!

A moment later, his father climbed upstairs.

"Come on. Nothing can be done. An hour ago, a neighbor jumped out of the window and fell into the snow like a duck into broth. He hasn't recovered yet. Too bad for the guy, he was young. He'd only turned sixty two years ago.

Heniek didn't say a word, just smiled, and went to the attic. He'd been waiting for this opportunity for years. Dreams do come true, after all! He grabbed a candle (his mother had unscrewed all the light bulbs in the attic) and went to retrieve his treasures.

After a moment, he descended, carrying some strange oval objects made of sticks under his arm. He put them on his feet. He opened the window and started to leave.

"Come back, you idiot!" his father shouted. Admittedly, Heniek wasn't a bright man, but after all, he was his only son.

Surprisingly, instead of drowning in the snow, Heniek stood on it.

"Jesus Christ!" his father shouted. Mother, come here, run!

" "Oh God, don't tell me that idiot's gone! The idiot will drown, and what will I do with the funeral? So many years

of being raised for nothing, so many years, so much money..."

A moment later, his mother stood slack-jawed next to her husband. It was probably the first time they'd stood like that since their wedding, which was about eighteen years ago. Before that, they'd only been standing in church, because they'd walked to church from the same house, but by different routes. Grandma stayed with Heniek at home with the little ones.

"I always knew there was something wrong with him." He walks on snow like Christ on water!

After a while, Heniek took the shovel from his father and began digging into the snow. His work was accompanied by curious glances from the neighbors. One by one, he approached them and explained something to them, pointing to their feet. After a few hours, others began to mill around the houses. From then on, Heniek advanced in the eyes of the inhabitants of the Eternal Land of Snow. He was no longer the village idiot. They began to call him "professor." Although, in the natives' understanding, this term didn't differ much in meaning from the previous one, it was still a promotion. It was then that Heniek made a decision that changed his entire life. For now, he decided not to reveal his plans to anyone.

Days, weeks, and months passed. At the beginning of summer, Heniek went away for a few days. A fool is always forgiven for various extravagances, so no one asked where or why. When the holidays were over, Heniek packed his backpack, took one last look at his room, and set off. He left a message on the table: "Dear Parents,

Your home-grown idiot got into university.

Wish me luck."

Mother clutched the letter in her fist. She ran down a long avenue of maple trees. At the end of it was the monastery.

"Father Prior!" she shouted when she saw Father Alojzy in the courtyard. "Father, such a shame, such a shame!" Here, please, 100 złoty for the intention. Let Henio come home. What in the world will they teach him? He's gone completely mad. Who will take care of us in our old age? How will I ever look my neighbors in the eye?

The prior took the money and said Mass so that Henio would return when he finished his studies