The Mysteries of the Shaman Stone. Ivan Rasskazov

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      Creative alias: Ivan Rasskazov. Graduated from the Moscow Academy of Labor. I am married and have five children. At the same time, I am engaged in social activities and charity work. I have been repeatedly elected a deputy of the City Duma. I am disabled and a member of the Presidium of the Irkutsk regional organization of the All-Russian Society of Persons with Disabilities, as well as Member of the Moscow Office of the International Union of Writers.

      During my work at different enterprises, I was awarded orders and medals for my active social work, as well as incentives – more than a hundred certificates and recognition letters.

      I was awarded the Adam Mickiewicz International Medal established by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) and the International Writers Union; the diploma “For contribution to the development of modern Russian literature and the preservation of the Russian language” by the organizing committee of the “People’s poet” and “People’s writer” (Moscow, 2013) awards.

      With my story “Salaspils. Kunterhof Concentration Camp” I became the finalist of the “People's Writer” award (2013). In March 2015, I was awarded the title of Laureate of the National Literary Prize – “Writer of the Year”. I am also a finalist of the People’s Writer Award (2014). For my story “Angels”, I received a huge amount of recognition and feedback, including from the head of the Foundation for Socio-Cultural Initiatives Svetlana Medvedeva. I am a laureate, finalist, and nominee of more than 17 literary awards in all.

      My work has been published in the editions of the Moscow organization of the Union of Writers – the “Russian Bell” magazine, the “Russian Bell” almanac of the International Union of Writers: “From Heart to Heart”, in Russian-Swedish, Russian-Japanese and Italian-Russian collections, as well as in the following Russian collections: “Prose” (volume 9), “Writer of the Year 2013” (volume 5), “Writer of the Year 2014” (volume 8), “Russian Writers” (volume 5), “Heritage” (volume 7), the “Ribbon of St. George” almanac dedicated to the 70th anniversary of Victory in the Great Patriotic War, in the magazine “Region” which is a supplement to “Russian Newspaper”, regional magazine "Beloved Land" and local editions: “The Lena Miner”journal, “Pilgim”, the “Bodaibo Panorama” magazine, “Bodaibo – the Golden Capital of Siberia”, in the book called “City on Vitim” dedicated to the 100th anniversary of the city.

      Books from the series “Tales from the Taiga” have been published. The first one: “Taiga Adventures”, the second – “The Mysteries of the Shaman Stone”, the third – “Selected Works” and the fourth: “Verses and Prose of Ivan Rasskazov”. There is also an audio CD released by the studio of the International Union of Writers and Radio Newspaper “Moscovskaya Pravda”.

      I am a correspondent for the “Russian Bell” magazine, established by the Moscow City Organization of the Union of Writers of Russia. During the Maidan in Ukraine, armed with a pen, I fought with fascist writers of Ukraine on the anti-Maidan publishing site of Olesya Buzina, having released publications like “Don’t drink, lads, from the Euro slump, or you’ll turn into calves” (Nos. 1, 2, 3) and others.

      In my work, I pay special attention to the fate of children and orphans with disabilities. With my stories, I try to raise as much awareness as possible about their difficult lives, to awaken in the minds of people a sense of tolerance towards those who need our care and protection.

      Book one

      The guardians of the Shaman stone

      Dedicated to my Moscow friends – writers and journalists Alexander Gritsenko and Nikita Mitrokhin

      Part I

      Chapter One

      The plane, having lifted off the ground, began to bite into the sky with a loud howl. I thought that the vibration and the roaring inside an old AN-24 would scare all passengers but taking a closer look, I realized: those flying with me were experienced people. Taking into consideration the fact that Irkutsk and Bodaibo are only connected by this mode of transport, I calmed down and started watching the earth moving away from us, without noticing how I fell asleep pretty soon. Suddenly, the loudspeaker that looked like it had seen a lot started reproducing the hoarse voice of the flight hostess right above my ear, heralding the imminent touchdown. This woke me up immediately and brought me to my senses. The AN-24 that must have been of my age, made a U-turn and plunked into the liquid mud of the Bodaibo airport, throwing thousands of splashes in all directions from under its belly. I crossed myself, woke up my Moscow pal Nikita who was sitting next to me and started bringing my cell phone to life. Vitim was the only thing I wanted to see as soon as possible. Ugryum River, what are you like? – I kept on thinking. I heard so much about this mysterious and Nordic river from Herman and then there was this movie with a pursuit in taiga and gold rush I saw as a child, which stirred up my interest to this river and the surrounding nature even more.

      Meeting us at the airport, an old acquaintance Herman immediately offered to go with him to hunt some bear. The day before, he put a smelly bait in his hunting area destined for the predator that was walking around his winter hut and frightening people and dogs. And he was sure: the bear had already found it and we had to hurry in order to go up Vitim to get to the winter hut and meet the beast while it was still daylight. Herman was a local entrepreneur, a hunter, fisherman and a descendant of a small, vanishing ethnicity, the Tofalar, whose representatives are mainly settled in the Nizhneudinsky District and only a few of them, like Herman, were uprooted and dispersed all over our huge country. Without much delay, the three of us – me, Nikita and Herman – left the airport to go to the boat station where a “Crimea” boat was waiting for us. The three of us hopped into it and, together with two huskies Buran and Baikal, went up the river at quite a pace. You would not believe it: the higher we climbed up Vitim, the larger grew my admiration for nature around me. The soft carpet of the forest was interrupted by the ragged rock that climbed up the sky with its snow that has not yet melted on the peaks. The wild, primordial nature fascinated me with its beauty, and the same feeling that our ancestors must have felt, the ancient people who went hunting some prey without knowing what was awaiting them, was filling my chest. “If we’re lucky,” Herman said, “the Deer crossing will be behind that hill, and we’ll be able to see these beauties.” Very little time passed, and far away, right in the middle of Ugryum River, we saw a herd of seven deer swimming rapidly. The leader was swimming in front of the herd; he could be distinguished by the huge horns that struck immediately. The animals, which we took by surprise, snorted loudly with their nostrils, trying to get to the shore as soon as possible and enter their habitat, that is, Mother Nature. Meeting humans was never a good thing for the deer. We slowed down, watching these forest beauties jumping out of the water to the river bank one by one and disappearing in the woods. When the last one of them disappeared in the taiga, we accelerated and СКАЧАТЬ