Until  one  midnight  in  mid-July  of  1918,  few people had

ever heard of Yekaterinburg. Drama,  in the  shape  of  exceptional

happenings,  had  never  stopped  there.  The  inhabitants  of  the town

were satisfied that this should be so, quite content  to

exist  inside  ordinary  life.  But then, on that midnight in July

certain  foreign  sounds  impinged  on the normal nightly Yekaterinburg noises.

At  the  time not a soul sleeping in town heard

them – shotgun blasts that, all told, ended nine human  lives.

But  afterward townspeople found fantasy  recreating  them  over and again —

those  somber  explosions  that  stimulated the  fires  of civil war.

_________________________________________

Paraphrases from the novel In Cold Blood by Truman Capote.

Advertisements