In the last couple of days I tried picking up one of my old unfinished works and even managed to write a bit for it, but then I got distracted as I got randomly inspired for this little piece of silliness.

You can also read this on AO3,
in Russian: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47506198
in English: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47506228

Countryside Childhood
(original, brother/sister incest, death by shooting, casual)

I once went out of town to pick some mushrooms. I picked a lot, but that’s not the point. On the way back, I saw children walking along the road, a boy and a girl. And just in the same direction as I was driving. So I stopped by them. I looked closely — such nice kids, both of them had golden hair, blue eyes and bright light in their gaze. Just two little sunshines. And they walked so amicably, holding hands. The girl must have been fourteen, and the boy a couple of years younger, which would be about twelve. The girl was dressed in a thin translucent dress, so you could see there was no underwear beneath it, and the boy had only shorts and a gun slung over his shoulder. And they were both shoeless, so they walked the country road barefoot. There was such a pure rural simplicity about them.
“Where are you going?” I asked them. “Maybe you want a ride?”
“Mom tells us not to ride with strangers,” said the boy.
“Then let’s get acquainted,” I suggested. “My name is Uncle Kolya, what’s yours?”
“I’m Nastya,” the girl introduced herself. “And this is my brother Mishutka,” she gently took him by his shoulders.
Just as I thought they were brother and sister. They also looked at each other so fondly.
“And where do they make such beautiful kids?” I asked.
“We’re from Zarechnaya,” Nastya answered. “We’re going to the station to meet our father.”
“He works in the north,” Mishutka proudly added. “He promised to bring us a Dendy!”
“Wow,” I pretended to be impressed, although I didn’t know what it was.
“Yeah!” bragged Mishutka. “No one in the village has it, and we will!”
“But you will share with your friends, right?” I said instructively.
“I’ll share with Nastyukha,” said Mishutka, putting his arm around his sister’s waist. “And I don’t need anyone else.”
“Well, well,” scolded him Nastya. “You do share me with your friends.”
“I don’t share you with friends,” said Mishutka, “I share friends with you!”
“You love your sister, don’t you?” I remarked.
“I do,” Mishutka hugged her tighter. “We are going to get married.”
“Brother,” she giggled kindly, “we don’t need to get married, we’re already a family.”
“And I say we should,” insisted Mishutka. “I want to be a father, not an uncle!”
At that he gently stroked Nastya’s belly.
“So you’re already expecting a new addition?” I realized.
“Of course,” said Nastya, putting her hand on top of her brother’s hand. “Otherwise, when we grow up, who will play Dendy?”
“And what is this Dendy anyway?” I got curioys. “How do you play it?”
“Well, you plug it into the TV, and…” Nastya said uncertainly. “We haven’t seen it ourselves yet.”
“There are ducks flying on the screen, and you shoot them with the gun: bang, bang!” said Mishutka, and even pulled the gun from behind his back, pretending to aim into the distance. “That’s what daddy wrote in his letters.”
“Shoot at the TV?” I was astonished. “But it will break!”
“I think there’s a special toy gun used,” Nastya explained.
“With the real one I can already shoot ducks, or even a bear,” boasted Mishutka.
“What, like a bear?” I didn’t believe it.
“Why don’t you believe it?” he took offense.
“He saved me last winter from a rogue one,” Nastya intervened. “My hero!”
“Why say hero,” now Mishutka was embarrassed. “Any loving brother would do the same.”
“Wow,” now I was really impressed. “And can you shoot your sister?”
“Shoot Nastyukha?” smirked Mishutka. “Sure thing!”
Nastya’s eyes shone with pride for her brother as he aimed the gun at her without hesitation and pulled the trigger. BANG! And the shine in Nastya’s eyes faded forever, as with a bloody hole in her chest she fell to the ground like a rag doll.
“How’s that, Uncle Kolya?” Mishutka smugly turned to me.
“Great,” I noted. “Did you see how proud she was of you?”
“Nastyukha is always proud of me,” said Mishutka. “I don’t give her any reason to feel otherwise.”
“Well then, hero,” I didn’t miss an opportunity to tease him, “do you want a ride to the station?”
“That would be handy”, Mishutka agreed. “While you were busying us with all the talk, the train must have already come.”
Having said that, he put his beloved sister’s body on the back seat and sat down on the front seat next to me.
“Why take the body?” I remarked. “There’s no more Nastya in it anyway.”
“Whether Nastya is or isn’t,” Mishutka answered. “I’m gonna marry her anyway.”
Perhaps that was the moment when I decided to leave everything and go live in the country. I’ve got children myself, even though they’re small. And what will they see in life, if they live in four walls? Will they be able to love so much that even death won’t be an obstacle? No, my children must have a real childhood. Like Mishutka and Nastyukha.