Stranger in Moscow

A man finds happiness in one of his creations... or does he? Sorry, I don't really know how to explain it.

**Incomplete**

In the city of Moscow there was a lonely little street with lonely little buildings. Everything on this street was drab, torn, and gray. People had a cold demeanor and there was tension between neighbors. The children - few - as most parents did not wish to raise their children in such an environment. There was one elderly man, however, whose spirit shone like the sun. He did not come out of his apartment much, only to get the mail and to run a few errands. He owned the apartment for many years, one of the only two-bedroom apartments left in his area. The people's cold nature was often cast at him for this, as they thought he should have moved out once his wife passed away many years ago, to give to other tenants who needed it more. Nevertheless, he ignored their coldness and let the cheer come from his heart.

That Monday morning, he started his daily routine. He woke up at six o'clock sharp, took a quick bath, and went for a stroll. The road was barely being lit by the sun's rays and the cold bite of winter seemed to be cast away as the man focused on the sun's warm glow. The road was also empty, the neighborhood had just woken up and began their grumbling at the bright sun and the work week's troubles. The man started whistling an angelic tune causing one of the neighbors to start shouting obscenities at him. The man just gave the neighbor his warm and gentle smile accompanied by a wave, to which the neighbor rolled his eyes and retreated.

As the man returned, he saw a small white rose at the side of the road. Part of the stem had been crushed by cars, but the petals were untouched and still had all of their beauty. The man picked up the white rose and rushed home. He fiddled with his keys, unlocked the door, and ran to the window sill, where he had a large rectangular plant pot made for many plants to grow in at once. There were already flowers planted on the sides of the pot, but an empty space left in the middle saved for the most beautiful flower he could find around the neighborhood on his daily walks. He tended to the white rose's stem and planted it carefully into the center of the pot. A smile grew on his face and he let out a sigh of relief and joy.

The man went to turn for the kitchen when his reflection of a mirror caught his eye. The years and the war had taken a toll not only on the apartment, but on his face. He had a scar across his left cheek from a knife wound when he was in World War II and burn wounds on his forehead and where his left eyebrow should have been from saving a child from a fire in an apartment building down the street a year ago. He realized from the wrinkles on his face exactly how long it had taken him to finally find the perfect flower for the spot - a quest started by his wife almost 40 years prior. A tear dropped to the wooden floor and the man continued to the kitchen as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

The scent of omelet filled the apartment. The man had known how to cook since he was a young boy living on a farm in Soviet Russia. The man - now 75 - had a good memory and was able-bodied for someone his age. After cleaning up the kitchen, the man went to the door of the bedroom he did not use. There were five locks on the door, two of which were deadbolts. The man took a set of keys separate from the set used for his car and apartment, and proceeded to unlock the heavily guarded door.

Inside was a room filled with sculpting tools, bags of clay and some other materials, various shelves with small sculptures - vases and the like. In the back of the room, to the side, there was a large drawing table. On the wall behind the table were two large boards with drawings and calculations attached to them. The wall opposite of all of this was a large painting of a teenage girl of Hawaiian descent protected by glass in a frame and cleaning supplies next to it. The painting looked slightly aged and was dated 7-28-1935. The glass was as smooth and clean as water. The man walked to the painting, kissed his index and middle fingers, and put it to the girl's lips, though being careful not to touch the glass.

In the middle of the room was a very detailed, yet unfinished, sculpture of what soon would become the girl in the painting. The man stared at the unfinished product for a few minutes and looked at a few drawings and calculations before he began working on the sculpture until he could no longer, with only small breaks when necessary. When he was too weary to work, he would pour a glass of wine for himself and go to bed, where he would sip the wine and read until he fell asleep. This was his usual routine - with a small change here and there for his errands. This routine remained for about three months until one day when the sculpture was complete.

The man stood at the sculpture in awe - it was finally finished. Every bit of clay had been molded and every bit of paint had been used. A lump in his throat began to form, his eyes became teary, and a smile grew on his wrinkled face. The man burst out crying hysterically until the tears would no longer come. It was late on that Wednesday night and as much as the man wanted to stay in the room with the sculpture, he knew he had to sleep in his bed (as sleeping in the studio would do a number on his back that he wished to avoid!)

The next morning he was awoken - not by his body's own alarm clock, but by a banging on the walls. The man got up quickly, put on his robe, and opened the door - but nobody was there. The banging continued and the man realized it was coming from inside his apartment - inside the guarded studio. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen in his anger that anything could be touching - or worse, destroying - his precious art. As he unlocked each lock, his anger grew.

Upon unlocking the final lock, before the man had a chance to prepare himself, the door swung open and a girl fell out - the same girl in the sculpture, the same girl in the painting. The man was knocked on the floor from the door. His face held deep fear and confusion. He got up, ran past the girl, and flipped the light switch. His sculpture was gone and there was no trace of it - except in the girl standing behind him in his living room. The man turned to her. She had the same blue summer dress, the same silky black hair, the same tan skin, and the same big black eyes as the girl in the painting and what used to be the sculpture. The man reached out his hand to her cheek and felt it was real - she was real.

"Hi!" exclaimed the girl. The man jumped back a step in fright.
"H-H-Hello. Who are you?" asked the man.
"My name is... My name... I don't know my name..." the girl said, with her voice trailing off in confusion. "Are you my father?"
"No! I mean... I don't think so."
"Well, who is my father, then?"
"I don't know. How did you get in there?"
"I was just... there. I don't remember anything before falling off that platform in there just a few moments ago," she said as she pointed at the studio. "It felt like I had woken up from something and just fell flat on my face."
"Where's my sculpture!?" the man said as his impatience grew.
"What sculpture?"
"The one that was just on that..." the man's voice trailed off, "You're her, aren't you?"
"Who?"
The man paused for a second and smiled, "Nevermind that," he said as he put her arm around her shoulders, "Come, let's have some breakfast."

As the man began to make breakfast, he opened the fridge and the pantry.
"What would you like to eat?"
The girl walked over and pointed to a few strawberries in the fridge.
"I'd like those, please. Those are sweet and I like sweet things."
The man's throat grew a lump, "Yes, of course. You can have all the strawberries you want," the man said, holding back tears.

There was an awkward silence as they ate their breakfast. The man wasn't able to eat much, as he felt very troubled. The girl had a trusting innocence about her and ate all the strawberries the man had in the fridge.

"What's your name?" the girl perked up.
"My name? Well... Everyone around here calls me 'Stranger.'"
"Why?"
"Because... That's not important. Just eat your strawberries."

Stranger tried to bring up conversations, but he was not sure of her level of intelligence or her level of maturity. He was also very preoccupied with thoughts and questions. How would he take care of her? He had never taken care of a child before. Does she need to go to school? Would she "expire" and turn back to the statue? Then Stranger realized he would need to get her more food, as he could tel the strawberries were the only things she seemed interested in in his fridge and pantry. They remained in silence for a while longer until the man realized he should probably get groceries soon, as he was running low on things he liked, as well.

"Uhh... Excuse me, miss," said Stranger, "Do you know what a grocery store is - or a market?"
"But of course! That's where you buy food from!" said the girl with a bit of a chuckle.
Stranger sighed in relief, "Oh! Good! Well, would you care to come with me as I go get some groceries?"
"Sure!"

Stranger went to his room to change into some warmer clothes - Clothes! What would she wear? All she had was that blue summer dress - much too light for a winter in Moscow! He grabbed an extra jacket and entered the living room.

"What are you doing wearing all of that?" the girl inquired, "It's summertime! You'll sweat to death."

Stranger stood back, amazed at what he was hearing. Did she still think it was July of 1935?

"It... What year and month is it, miss?"
"Why, July of 1935, of course!"

Stranger had no clue how to tell her without scaring her or sounding like an old nut.

"There's something I have to tell you. Please, sit down."
"Okay..." the girl said as she sat down on one of the wooden dining room chairs.
"This may scare you, but I can guarantee it's the truth and I don't think it should be hidden from you for much longer. You're living in the year 1995 and it's wintertime," explained Stranger hesitantly.
"1995?! How?! I'm still a teenager! How did that happen?!" the girl shrieked as tears formed in her eyes.

Stranger thought for a second that he made a terrible mistake, but he realized he would have to tell her sometime. She would see things like TV, microwaves, new styles, and new genres of music - not to mention new ways to play them.

"I need to show you something that may explain all of this," said Stranger as hesitantly as before.

The girl looked down for a minute, then agreed with a head nod. As she got up, he put his arm around her shoulders to try to console her. Stranger led her inside the studio, which still remained open, and faced her toward the painting.

"That's... That's me, isn't it? What's going on?" cried the girl.
"Please, let me explain. Do you remember any of your friends from high school?"
"No," said the girl with her arms crossed.
"Well, I'm one of them. We knew each other for a long time after high school until you died 4 years ago."

The girl was shocked.

"What did I - she - whatever die from?"
"She developed cancer when she was in her late 50's."
"So, I'm going to face that same fate?" said the girl with tears in her eyes.
"I-I don't know how long you'll stay here."
"What do you mean?"
"See, this studio... it's for sculpting. A few hours before I found you here, I had made a sculpture of the girl in the painting - you. Once I found you, the sculpture was gone. There's no sign of a robbery, so it looks a lot like--"
"Am I the statue?"
"I think you just may be."
"This... How is this possible?!"
"I really don't have a clue."
"I feel like a human, though. I have flesh, I breathe, my heart beats and blood runs through my veins!"
"I really wish I could explain it to you, but I honestly have no clue whatsoever."

The girl walked out of the room without saying anything to Stranger.

"Sasha! Wait!" yelled Stranger.

The girl walked back to the chestnut door frame.

"That's my name? Sasha?"
"That's the name of the girl in the painting who you were made after."

Sasha nodded her head in agreement and walked away. She sat on Stranger's couch in the living room and just stared at the floor. She could not believe all of this and was in shock. Stranger thought it'd be best just to postpone the trip to the market until she was feeling better. He went to go change out of his winter clothes before he was stopped by Sasha.

"Are we still going to the market?" Sasha inquired.
"No, I can wait until you're ready--"
"I am," Sasha replied defensively, "Let's go."
"Are you sure? It'll be quite a shock."
"I don't care. I should get used to this world, not hide from it."

A big smile grew on Stranger's face. He admired her courage and gave her the fluffy white winter jacket.

Sasha was amazed at the car itself. It had so many features. She began pressing buttons at random until loud heavy metal music came out of the speakers.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" cried Sasha as she hid her face behind the hood of her jacket.
"Don't worry!" said Stranger to calm her down as he turned down the music. "It's just music. Do you remember music?"
"Yes, but that is not music!"

Stranger chuckled and put it to a jazz station on a low sound level.

"Ooh! I remember this song!" exclaimed Sasha with great joy. Finally, something familiar in this scary new life.

They reached the market and Stranger turned off the car and let Sasha out. They walked in the market and as Stranger got his own cart, he gave Sasha one, as well.

"Here, go and pick out whatever looks good to you. Just don't buy the whole store!" Stranger chuckled, "Meet me back here when you're finished."

Sasha nodded in agreement and started going through the store while Stranger got his own things and kept a close watch on her. Sasha was amazed at everything she saw. She could feel the warmth of the market's heater - despite the freezing cold weather outside - something which she had never experienced before. The security cameras with their television sets amazed her - she thought they were like mirrors! Although the fruits and vegetables were relatively the same, there were still so many other foods that looked so interesting. It's safe to say she was certainly falling for many marketing schemes aimed at children! She saw a large display of cooking supplies with a cardboard cutout of George Foreman standing next to it. She went up to the display and started looking around.

"Excuse me, sir, what are these for?" Sasha asked the cutout - to no reply. "Hello?" Again, no reply. She gave a gentle push to the cutout, which made it tumble down. Sasha ran away with her cart in a state of confusion and fright.

She continued to stroll throughout the store when she came upon the deli area, which had a sushi section. She recognized the names right away, but didn't know where from. She grabbed a few packs of sushi and went along her way. After about an hour, her cart was basically filled up. She returned to the spot where Stranger told her to go. He had been waiting for her for half an hour and was amazed at how many things she had gotten. Stranger paid for the items and they proceeded home to put away the groceries.

"Is that the last bag?" Stranger asked Sasha with his hands on his, now sore, back.
"I'm pretty sure!" replied Sasha.

Stranger sat down on one of the wooden dining chairs, let out a sigh of relief and looked over to his bedroom where he saw a pile of clothes laying on the floor. Clothes! He needed to buy Sasha some clothes! Stranger let out a groan as he got up and walked to Sasha, who was reading the newspaper.

"Sasha, I just remembered, we need to get you some clothes - you can't stay in those forever."
"OK, can I take this with me?"
"Sure."

The two proceeded to the car when Stronger was stopped by one of his neighbors who yelled out to him from her window sill.

"Hey, Stranger! What are you doing with that girl?"
"She, uh, she's my niece's daughter - my great niece. She's come to live with me."

The neighbor tightened her grip on the sill as fury ran through her.

"Shouldn't she be in school right now?"
"I haven't enrolled her in one, yet."

The neighbor grew a mischievous smile and bid adieu to Sasha and Stranger who drove to the clothing store. The neighbor, however, was just finishing setting up the building's weekly meeting. About 15-20 people would attend the meetings regularly. The leader and host of these meetings was a conniving, convincing, and manipulative woman in her late 30's. About 15 people arrived within minutes and the meeting started.

"Welcome everyone, I hope you've made yourselves comfortable because we've got a big issue to talk about," said the host as she paced back and forth in front of her audience.
"What's the matter, Diane?" piped up one of her friends.
"You guys already know about that old man in 5C, but did you know of that girl staying with him?"

The audience started murmuring to each other in confusion -- none of them had ever seen Sasha.

"Yes, it was a surprise to me, as well. She looks to be in her mid or late teen years. I asked what she was doing with him as they walked out to his car and he told me she was his great-niece."
"Well, is it really much of a problem? I mean, she's probably only hear for a vacation," said the newest tenant.
"A vacation to Moscow in winter?!" yelled Diane condescendingly. She collected herself and gave a charming smile, "Besides, he said she was staying with him until he died, then she would take possession of the apartment for the rest of her years."

The audience gasped in horror.

"This ruins our plan!" a tenant exclaimed.
"What plan?" the new tenant asked.
"That old fart doesn't deserve the apartment anymore. He should have moved out four years ago when his wife died!" yelled Diane with her fists clenched, "After his wife died, we pleaded with him to move out and give other - more deserving tenants - the space. He refused and we've been waiting ever since for him to just die off." Diane turned away from the audience for a minute and turned back, "I may have a solution, though. I asked what school she went to--"
"So we could kill her off, too?" said the new tenant with sarcasm and disgust.
Everyone else was too shocked to say anything.
"If you don't agree with us, you can just leave," said Diane as she pointed to the door.
"No thank you. Sorry," said the new tenant meekly as she did not want to be hated in the first month of her residency there.
"Anyways," Diane continued, "He replied, 'She isn't enrolled in a school.' I curiously asked him if he would enroll her any time soon or at least next school year and he snapped back at me, 'She doesn't need to!'"
The audience gasped yet again.
"I was in shock, too. That poor girl will never get anywhere in life without a proper education!" shouted Diane as she pounded her fist onto a nearby table.
"We must do something for this girl!" shouted one of the tenants.
"I'm going to contact the authorities soon, but until then I need you all to keep a watch out for anything with those two. Even if you don't see anything suspicious, I want you to be witnesses of her being out of school in case he tries lying to the authorities."
"Yes! Most definitely!" said the tenants in unison - all, except the new tenant, who just sat there with her legs and arms crossed in silence.
"What about you, Kathy?" said Diane sarcastically.
"My name is Annie."
"Whatever."
"Fine, I'll help you, but only with that."
"Good girl."
"But, how does that help you all to get rid of her?"
"If the school deems that man an unfit guardian, the girl will be taken away... I did see him with his hand around her waist, pretty low for a 'great-uncle,'" Diane said, turned from the crowd and with a smile on her face.
"How awful!" yelled a tenant.
"Indeed it is, that poor, poor girl..." said Diane as she turned to the crowd and shook her hanging head.
The tenants talked more about the situation and the meeting ended soon after.

Sasha and Stranger returned soon after with many new clothes, which the stores' employees helped her pick out. As the old car came to a full stop, it made its usual rusty noise from the old - yet functioning - brakes. The neighbors from the meeting frantically ran to their windows to get a glimpse of the girl. They saw nothing inappropriate between the two, but it was much too early for the girl to be home - let alone be shopping for clothes. As Sasha ran in the building with her separate set of keys Stranger gave to her, Stranger noticed the neighbors above peeking through their windows. He knew something was amiss, but he still gave them his usual warm smile and wave. He grabbed the remaining bags and proceeded to his apartment.

"Thank you, Stranger!" exclaimed Sasha as she hugged him.
Although he lived in a humble apartment, Stranger was not strapped for cash - quite the opposite! He had a large inheritance, but chose not to show it off.
"You're very welcome, Sasha," Stranger said with a smile, "I'm very sorry I can't offer you a proper bed right now, but I believe the couch pulls out into a bed."
"What do you mean?" asked Sasha, as she had never seen something like that before.
Stranger chuckled and pulled out the bed for her. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw there was already some beddings on the couch's inner mattress. Sasha's stomach growled and Stranger's took part soon after. Stranger made some lunch for himself and let Sasha pick out what she wanted. They ate their lunch and discussed various things Sasha had learned about that day. When they finished, Stranger brought the plates and silverware to the sink for cleaning.

"Can we listen to some more music?" Sasha asked.
"Sure - in fact, how about we head to the music store to see if there's any names you recognize or anything new you'd like to check out? There's a big music store a bit away from here."
"OK! That sounds great. Let's go!"

The two grabbed their jackets once again.

"Sasha, don't you think you should change into something a bit warmer?" asked Stranger.
"Oh, yeah! I shouldn't let all of these new clothes go to waste!" Sasha said with a big smile.

She grabbed an outfit and changed in the bathroom next to the studio. As she changed, Stranger yelled out that he'd be down in the car waiting.
Sasha locked the apartment as she left and headed down the stairs, where she met one of the tenants who was in the meeting.

"Hi, are you new here?" the tenant asked Sasha.
"Yep. My name's Sasha, I'm in 5C. I have to go, but it was nice meeting you," replied Sasha in her sweet voice.
"Hey, wait," the tenant said to her as he stopped her, "If that man ever does anything bad to you, you can come to my apartment. I live in 3F. My name's Evan and I live with my wife June and my son Jordy."
"Um... OK... Thanks?"
"You're welcome, and remember, you're the victim."

Sasha ran down the stairs in confusion and met up with Stranger. She got in the car and turned on the radio. She was silent the whole ride - all 20 minutes of it.

"Are you alright, Sasha?" asked Stranger.
"Yeah. I'm fine," replied Sasha with a small smile.
Stranger didn't believe her, but he knew it was best not to keep questioning her. Sasha wondered why Evan had said that to her, but as she listened to the music, it relaxed her and her mind focused on that.

They went inside the music store, which was two stories high. All the music videos and new music amazed Sasha. Stranger brought Sasha to the jazz section and she picked out some greatest hits CD's of some of her favorite musicians. Stranger choked up as he saw which artists she liked and disliked.

"Sasha, I'm going to go look at some stuff. Stay here or wait for me by the cash register."
"OK."

Stranger had spotted the 'pop' section and thought she'd like Michael Jackson's music. He was picking up the musician's discography when he came upon something new - 'HIStory.' He saw it had Jackson's classics on one CD and Jackson's new music on another. He saw 'Thriller' on the classic CD's track list and remembered how much his late wife loved the song and album of the same name. They danced until dawn to songs like 'The Lady in My Life' and 'Human Nature.' If only she could have gotten a chance to listen to Jackson's new songs - especially the ballads. She had wanted to listen to his 'Dangerous' album when it came out in 1991. She was already in the hospital and close to dying when the album was set to be released. Her dying wish was to hear his newest album. Stranger ran out to the store the day it came out. By the time he came back, it was too late - she was dead.

Stranger was broken out of his memories when an employee asked him if he needed assistance. He proceeded to the cash register with Jackson's CD's where Sasha was patiently waiting with her new CD's. Before Stranger checked out completely, he realized he needed to get Sasha a CD player and some headphones. Stranger asked an employee what the best CD player and headphones were and bought those. The two left the store and on their way home, they picked up some batteries from the drug store. Upon returning home and opening Sasha's new things, Stranger helped Sasha with understanding the CD player and how to use it. She sat on her bed listening to all of her jazz CD's and she was in pure bliss. Stranger waited a few days before leaving the Michael Jackson CD's in her pile of music when she was asleep. Days passed and Stranger noticed that with each day, there was another Jackson CD unwrapped from their plastic wrapping. He observed that she was listening to 'HIStory' the most.

Downstairs in 3D, Diane waited for the tenants to arrive for the weekly meeting. This time, 30 people showed up. Word had gotten out about Sasha living with Stranger and lies were forming about the two.

Author's Note

NOT FINISHED!