In a wooden house inhabited by several generations of women, a tiny girl of many talents was born and given the name Smykałka (Flair). She grew up in rooms filled with preserves and naphthalene balls rolling around on the floor. In autumn and winter, she would gorge on pickled pattypan squashes and spread plum jam over the toast she made in the home oven. She used the naphthalene balls to arrange words, and sometimes even entire sentences taken from her beloved novels. When the weather turned warmer, she enjoyed spending evenings by the roadside. Smykałka watched snails crossing the tarmac road, back and forth. Sometimes she noticed gangs of rascals – boys from nearby houses, a few years older than her. They gathered to hunt snails, catching them in jars and sprinkling them with salt. Seeing this, Smykałka angrily grabbed handfuls of sand and threw it in their direction. She imagined the sand particles burning their skin. One evening, she made a pact with the sky and when the boys would gather as a group, the sky grew overcast with black clouds. The falling rain would thwart their cruel pastimes and offer the creatures some relief. After the storm, Smykałka would venture out on the road and collect any surviving molluscs in the pockets of her dress. She took them near the compost heap at the back of the garden and there she promised to tell their stories by painting on paper the shapes they left with their slime in front of her house.

Franciszek Smoręda