Ever Out of Reach

October 18, 1989

To General [Redacted]

Sir,

My name is Sergei [Redacted], a few months ago, you interrogated my father, Anton [Redacted] on his actions during the Revolution and absolved him of all suspicions. I am writing to inform you that he passed away last month and, while remodeling his apartment, I stumbled upon the following journal entries hidden beneath a floorboard. The contents of these entries are greatly disturbing and my mother has gone to pieces over them.

After much debate, my siblings and I have decided that your hands are the most qualified to receive this information. We do not know what to do with this knowledge. Please take this burden off of our shoulders and hand these over to the proper authority. I have included all of the entries with this letter.

Yours,

Sergei [Redacted]

July 17, 1918

Today we executed the Tsar. The soldiers lined up him and his family in the basement of the house, seated them, and told them they were going to be moved. I saw Comrades [Redacted] and [Redacted] loading their pistols and eagerly rushed to join them once I had figured out what they’d intended to do.

They told me I could not join them and went with Comrades[Redacted], [Redacted], [Redacted], and foolish old [Redacted] into the room. I paced outside the door and heard a shout followed by gunfire, or perhaps gunfire followed by a shout. Afterward, I was instructed to dispose of the bodies by Comrade [Redacted], I do not think they all died instantly. 

The Tsar had three bullet wounds, Alexandra had one, Tatiana was hit in the legs, it appears she tried to run. When I entered, the room was still thick with smoke, the smell of gunpowder mixed strongly with the smell of blood on the floor. I was not instructed how to dispose of the Royal Family, so I opted to disfigure them and bury them. 

While I dug, the others who had been sent to help me, Comrades [Redacted] and [Redacted], as well as Comrade [Redacted], got drunk. One tried to touch the bodies lewdly, so I dismissed them, though my official report states we buried them together, this is untrue and, after this morning, will remain my own secret to take with me to the grave, for you see, what happened next was unexpected.

In the dark, I stripped the bodies one by one and extracted any jewels they had hidden on themselves. As I did, I pushed them into the pit where I was to burn and bury them. The entire time, I heard a faint whimper, at first I thought it was the Prince’s little dog that followed him everywhere, but I was shocked to find, when I’d gotten to her, that the Grand Duchess Anastasia was alive! Wounded, unconscious and crying in her sleep, but alive nonetheless.

I drew my own pistol to finish the job. I was eager to join my Comrades in the annals of our country’s burgeoning history, but I could not do it. She was lying in the soft mud, covered in the blood of her family and herself, but she looked so beautiful, so peaceful, so serene and angelic. Her cheeks were still rosy and her tears rolled off of them like dew from flower petals, for the briefest of moments, I understood why we once worshiped the Royal Family.

I brought her to my hunting cabin, a few miles away in the woods. She awoke sometime later, very frightened, asking what had happened and where her family was. I told her they had run off and she had been left behind, mistaken for dead, but that I would protect her and help her find them. I don’t know why I lied to her… I couldn’t let her leave. Now she is bathing in an old metal tub I dragged into the other room, it isn’t a very big cabin, all that separates the rooms is a curtain, no door, I had to heat the water on the stove, I can hear her gently splashing in the water as she wipes the blood and dirt away… I am tempted to look, but I mustn't. I’ll wait outside until she is finished.

July 18, 1918

The Grand Duchess is asleep in my bed. Her hair is curled slightly, drying from the bath, I had only one towel to give her and she sleeps in one of my old shirts, it is far too big for her. I cannot stop looking at her in her slumber, she is mesmerizing. My face felt hot as I watched her chest rise and fall so gently. I have stepped outside to cool off and am leaning against the side of the cabin, watching the stars.

The little dog, Joy, came back. He is searching for his family. I will give him to the Princess in the morning to convince her that her family is alive and that she is safe with me. I’ll tell her I am one of the White Army and that I am to guard her until her family is brought to rendezvous with us. That should keep her complacent, at least for a while. The stars are shining beautifully tonight, I can hear her gentle breathing in the wind.

July 19, 1918

She was ecstatic to see the dog.

July 20, 1918

Princess Anastasia believed me when I told her we were waiting to rendezvous with the White Army. She seems to be in good spirits, she believes her family is waiting for her and that they will board a ship to England or maybe France to be with her grandmother in Paris. I smiled and told her she would be safe soon, that she would see the world and put this all behind her, like waking from a bad dream. That made her smile. Her teeth are as white as pure ivory, I have never seen a woman so beautiful and so fragile.

July 26, 1918

Princess Anastasia became bored today. I have very few books in my cabin and she has finished all of them already. I could feel her becoming fidgety, sitting by the window, staring out at the lake, counting down the days until she would see her family again. It stings my feelings, though I’m not sure why. Why am I hurt that she is so eager to leave me? I should feel guilty, not offended. I lied to her, after all, that she would ever escape this place.

I took Anastasia on the lake today. In my old rowboat, I covered her face with a large hat my brother’s wife once wore. She looked every bit the regular, modern lady, but her posture was so precise, so practiced, even as the boat swayed, she did not dip. I was bent like a hunchback, pushing and pulling the oars. She smiled at me as I did, at first I thought perhaps she was mocking me for being so beneath her, for serving her like the masses did before our glorious revolution, a rage swelled in me for a quick moment, for the briefest of seconds I wanted to strike her, tell her that her family was dead, that the people ruled the land now! 

But then I realized she was smiling because she was grateful. Because I had saved her life and she was happy to be out of the house, happy to sit in the sunshine and glide across the water with a peasant, content to just make conversation and be present in the moment. A sting of shame struck me deep in my heart at the notion I had been at all displeased with the Princess. 

July 30, 1918

Princess Anastasia asked if she could see her family soon, I told her they were on their way and she smiled that ever beautiful smirk of hers, that snobbish air of satisfaction of getting one’s way. It stings me that she is so eager to leave me behind. 

I have just woken from a dream I had about Anastasia. In it, I brought her out on the lake. She was so grateful for all I have done that she kissed me in the middle of the lake. The stars were out, it was warm… she was warm… She is asleep in my bed now, just beyond the curtain, while I stay on the cold floor. Why do I allow her to make a peasant of me? Doesn’t she know that the revolution has equalized us? I should be in the bed, she should sleep on the cold floor… or else… we could both sleep in the bed… I’ll go for a walk.

August 10, 1918

Anastasia grows impatient and so do I. She keeps asking after her family and I cannot keep my dreams under control. I tell her there are delays. That the War has prevented the ships from coming… Last night, I heated water for the old tub again and drew her a bath. I looked behind the curtain and beheld a spectacle beyond human joy. The smooth milk of her skin, which still has not grown dirty or calloused from the toils of our concealment. The curls of her hair straightened in the water and the steam rose in the air around the subtle curves of her body. I am humbled. I understand why she is royalty and why I am dirt…

She did not see me watching her. I am ashamed… No, I should be ashamed, but I am not. Why am I not ashamed of this violation? I desire her. I want her. Bless the revolution for setting her equal to me that I might have a chance to win over her affections. Perhaps we could flee into the mountains and live together in some lakeside cabin somewhere. Start a farm and a family, I cannot bear the idea of being parted from her, I MUST bask in her beauty for all eternity.

I must feel the soft, smooth texture of the skin that taunts me. She is wonderful, she can do no wrong.

August 25, 1918

I cannot believe her nerve! She yelled at me when I went to market today to get us food! Anya yelled and whined that she is lonely and bored, that she misses her family. She asked if she could send a message to the White Army or to her grandmother in Paris. I scolded her and I said “Do you want them to know you are alive? Do you want the Red Army to come streaking down the  countryside to take you away? They’ll hang you up naked in Saint Petersburg and cut you open before the crowds! They’ll drown all Russia in your blood!”

She cried and shook in terror and the little dog barked incessantly. After all I’ve done for her? All I have risked in keeping her hidden? She has the nerve to try to leave me! I stormed out of the house and told her “Maybe I should tell the Soviets where you are, since you want to be taken by them so badly! They would probably make me a general for finding you, since you so much desire to flee!”

Anya dropped to her knees, a Princess! The Grand Duchess! And she begged at my feet that I not sell her out. She begged and cried like a common girl, her curls dangled around her face and she was beautiful even in despair, perhaps more so in despair…

I lifted her and held her to me, I comforted her and told her I would let no one take her away. The dog ceased its barking and Anya clung to me, she clung to me! Her arms were so soft, so delicate and smooth. When our embrace ended, she apologized to me and told me she was merely scared and lonely, that she missed her family.

I told her I would bring her something from the market, something special to cheer her up, and set out to find my dear Anya a treat.

September 8, 1918

Today I heard that the Dowager Empress, Anya’s grandmother, is offering a large cash reward if anyone can bring Anya, or any in her family, to her in Paris. I spent the entire afternoon pacing the cabin, back and forth, my chest felt hollow and sunken in anxiety. No doubt someone will come looking for Anya to take her from me… bounty hunters and royalists… Maybe I should move her to a safer location…. She has stopped asking about her family, she knows it upsets me, but if she were to see it in the paper… if she were to hear about the Dowager Empress… I need to think… the dog will not stop biting my heel!

September 29 1918

Anya asked about her family today for the first time in a long while. I became so angry. I cannot believe we are STILL talking about this! I flipped the dinner table and sent our soup flying at the walls. “Why do you insist on badgering me?” I shouted and she cried her usual lament, that she was lonely, that she missed her mother, her father, and her siblings. 

I grew tired of the fake tears, of the excuses. I told her “I know you want to leave me!” And she protested, insisted she is grateful for all I have done, insisted that all she wants is to find her family. So I took her by the arm and dragged her outside. She cried and the dog barked. She asked where I was taking her, said I was hurting her arm, the gaul to say I was hurting HER, when she is the one trying so desperately to abandon me at every turn! Plotting to leave me and rush off to Paris, where I cannot follow! She does not understand how my heart aches for her! How I desire her! Her heart, her warmth, her flesh! 

She looked at me in horror as I dragged her through the woods, she asked if I was going to… If I would have my way with her. I told her “Do not insult me, Anya! I am not some pig in heat! I control my lust, my desire! It is you who cannot control your desires, your desires to flee, your desires to abandon, to manipulate my heart, wrap me around your finger, and toss me aside like I am so servant, as though you are still a Princess!”

I tossed her to the ground and began to claw at the earth with my hands, the ground had still not set all of these months later. Anya asked what I was doing, if I had gone mad, so I told her “You want to see your family, don’t you? Then look upon them! I am all the family you have! I am all the family you need!”

I thrust the Tsar’s rotted husk into the moonlight, his skin had tightened like leather and turned green in the months he was returned to the world’s embrace. His clothes were nothing more than ragged cloth, covered in holes, clinging to his body, crusted over with blood and dirt. His eyes had sunken into his head and maggots and worms made their home in his mouth and in his ears.

Anya shrieked. She ran, speechless, back to the house, that annoying little hound yelping and howling as I gave chase. Inside she cried on my bed. I tried to comfort her, but she cut me! She hid a knife from my kitchen beneath her pillow and when I tried to comfort her, she cut me!

I struck her and she wept into her pillow. After all I’ve done for her.

October 1 1918

Anya got out of bed today. I was chopping wood in the yard when she came out, wrapped in the large blanket from my bed. I asked if she was feeling any better, she did not respond. I continued to cut wood and she walked behind me. Feeling remorseful for my boorish behavior, I told her I would bring her something from the market, whatever she liked… She cut me again… I felt the stinging blade rip into my right side and I bent forward in pain.

Precious Anya, the educated highborn Princess, did not know to strike me on my left side, where the organs sit. In a rage I…. I struck her with the ax. The dog howled and ran into the forest… I can still hear him howling. Barking. Mocking me. Why did she betray me like that? After all I have done for her? After I protected her, put food on her table, a roof over her head. I spared her… 

After I struck the last blow of the revolution, I layed on the ground beside her, holding her as she grew cold, weeping. I buried her not far from the rest of her family and I returned to town… I am sitting on a train now, traveling to see Sergei. He must be four or five now. I haven’t seen him in months… I wonder if his mother thinks I am dead… maybe they think I have died in the war. 

As the train speeds toward civilization, I look out at the woods and the lake, I remember the whirlwind of our romance, of the unrequited love with the Princess, Anya’s warm, smooth skin, the curves of her body, and I realize how the revolution has not made us equal at all, for she is free from me, separated by the veil between life and death, like the curtain between our rooms or the walls of her palace. Even now, as supposed equals, she is still ever out of my reach.