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Sleepless Dreams

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

If I had all the time I wanted,
I would write a research paper on the history of roller-coasters,
I would spend hours every day in the library reading ancient Greek myths,
I would take a part-time job where all I had to do
was clean babies after they had come out of their mothers,
wash them and then wrap them in their little blankets.
If I had all that time,
I would never say again to anyone,
“Sorry I don’t have time for you now,”
I would write long emails to my family and friends, no,
I would send them real letters.
If I had all the time I wanted,
I would paint flowers and I would knit Christmas stockings,
I would have lunch every day and I would read you this story now.

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The Forgotten Garden

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

We are just newcomers on this planet. Those, who arrived here before us, have every right to claim that it belongs to them. We marvel at things they hold to be commonplace, and they laugh at our childlike curiosity.

“Look! There’s a cat! It’s coming down the path!” my ten-year-old brother said and pointed down the valley.

“Yeah, I see it! It’s black and white.” I was holding the binoculars to my eyes and followed the cat’s way down the path which was paved with stone slabs.

“I want to see it too! Give that to me!” he demanded and snatched the binoculars out of my hand.

“Hey, don’t drop it!”

“I won’t,” he said and started to sweep the distant trees and bushes. “Where’s the cat? I don’t see it.”

In that moment, I didn’t see it either. It had probably stopped somewhere under the leaves.

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Budapest Bus Number Eight

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

Bus Number Eight shudders to a halt at its final stop at Gazdagrét and gives a big sigh.

“Pssssssssshhhhhh,” he says and opens his doors.

His passengers clamber down the steep stairs. One of them, an old lady carrying a large basket, heads for the grocery store across the street. Two young mothers with strollers and gurgling babies help each other get off the bus, then walk towards the park hiding among the eleven-storied apartment blocks.

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Why are the Clouds so Pretty?

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

Have you ever wondered why are the clouds so pretty?

Well, there was once a Butterfly, who wanted to find the answer to that question. This Butterfly decided to fly to the clouds, and she was very determined. Nobody could talk her out of that resolution, and no argument or reasoning could persuade her to change her mind. When her friends saw they had tried everything, and she only became more stubborn, they changed their ground.

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For My Father

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

Dad!

For the first time in my life, I don’t know which way to go.

When I was little, it was easy. I just had to follow the arrows, and they lead me to you. You drew them on the sidewalks with white chalk so that I would find my way from the playground to your workplace. Do you remember? You used to let me play as long as I wanted, but you never stayed with me. The work couldn’t wait, you used to say. But before you left, you always made sure the arrows were still visible on the sidewalks. If the rain had washed them away, you drew them again.

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An Ant Tale

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

The little Ant was on her way home from work, and she was pushing a large breadcrumb in front of her.

“Heave-ho, heave-ho,” she kept repeating. At every ‘heave,’ she gathered her strength, and at every ‘ho,’ she thrust the crumb forward. Every day, she crawled along the same path this way. That was why she wasn’t looking left or right, she just went on briskly, so that she would be back at the nest as soon as possible.

“Hi! How are you?” a friend greeted her when she arrived at the nest. The little Ant was about to tell her how she was, but her friend didn’t wait for a reply. She ran along after her business. Then another friend came by.

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When Grandma Dies

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

It was already very late, but we couldn’t sleep. We climbed up to the loft, and opened the window. My sister had to stand on a chair to see anything, my brother stood on a smaller chair, and I stood on the floor.

“I never want to grow up,” said my sister.

“Me neither,” my brother said.

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A Piece of Land

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

My mom produced a foot-long, rusty iron key from her bag, held it up, and announced:

“This is the Key to Paradise!”

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Cinders

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

It was Sunday evening again, and on every Sunday evening, I wanted to die.

“Cindy! Where are you?” I heard my mother’s voice calling me.

I was in the living room watching an episode of my favorite TV show that I had recorded on the Friday before. I knew my mother wanted to say that it was already eleven, and that I had school the following day, but that was something I didn’t want to hear. On Sunday evenings, I just wanted to bury myself somewhere and not come out until Friday, or drink some kind of magical medicine like Juliet, so that I could sleep deeply for days and wouldn’t have to do anything.

“So here you are hiding!”

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New York 1999

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

The Pigeon and the Little Parrot
The pigeon lived in the city. Every day, when the sun came up, he would be thinking that maybe that would be the day when he would die of hunger. And every winter evening, when the sun went down, he would be afraid that on that night he would freeze to death. He had nothing but his freedom to enjoy in his life.

One day, out of curiosity, the pigeon flew into a room through a window somebody had left open. The family who lived in that apartment was nice to him and wanted him to stay. They put him in the big golden cage where their little parrot lived.

The little parrot was happy to have a new friend. She asked the pigeon to stay with her. The pigeon said he would stay only for a year. He knew he was strong enough to open the door of the cage, so he could leave any time he wanted. The little parrot didn’t understand why would the pigeon ever want to leave that nice cage, but she was glad to hear that her friend would stay for a whole year.

But, after a couple of months had passed, the pigeon wanted to leave. ‘I’m going back home,’ said the pigeon to the little parrot. ‘Why?’ asked the little parrot. ‘Don’t you like this golden cage? Don’t you like all the colorful, tasty food we have?’ ‘I like it,’ said the pigeon. ‘But I miss my home.’ ‘I don’t understand you,’ said the little parrot. ‘I know you don’t,’ the pigeon replied. ‘But you can come with me if you want to. Maybe then you would understand.’

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