Dwergnovic, the dirty rat (left).

...my father was very late picking me up. I counted all of the branches on the tree in the field and then I counted the leaves. And still he had not arrived.

When I was a small child, my father used to carry me to school on his back. It was easy for him because my school was on the way to the salt mine. It was sad at the end of the day because all of the other students would go home right after school, but I had to wait for my father.

Oftentimes, I would ask my friends to stay after school to play Tumple Tag or Hit a Girl with a Rat. These were our favourite games. But my friends were hungry and wanted to go home. I was hungry too, but could not leave.

Then, very softly, I could hear singing. My father's favourite song drifted down to the school. He would sing for me when he carried me. I looked down the road to where the song grew stronger and stronger. It was not just my father. There were six men coming along the road. As they came closer, I began to recognize them. They were the fathers of my friends. Mr Zlotska was there—he was born a Siamese twin, but cut his own hand off to be separated. It was his badge of honour.

And my father was there too, but he was not walking. His friends, the fathers of my friends, were carrying him on their shoulders. Mr Zlotska was in the lead, singing louder than anyone else. I can still hear the song:

Put your hands up, Comrade,
Keep them held up high,
Put your hands up, Comrade,
Or the salt'll make ya die!

On this day, my father was the water carrier. As a practical joke, Glovezna Dwergnovic turned off another miner's light. That miner kept working, unaware of the joke. My father went over to the lightless to give him some water. He never saw the pick that killed him.

That was not such a good day....