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katuschka · 3 months ago

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Olalla Chapter Six 1/2

Josh Kiszka x f!OC x Jake Kiszka

After some consideration, I decided to split this chapter in two. Not only it makes more sense, because it really consists of two more or less separate parts, but the first half is already fully finished. So... Voilá!

3.727 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): hospital, head injury, naussea and vomiting, depression, memory loss, physical and emotional pain, loneliness, smut lite (retrospective)

Taglist

Previous Chapter Chapter Six 2/2 Olalla masterpost

I'm waiting for the wind to draw apart

Those dark, billowing curtains.

Then I will get up at once,

to face the sun.

Part 1/2: Josh, University Hospital in Krakow

It hurts.

Beep, beep, beep. The sound hurts. He can feel it pulsating somewhere behind his closed eyelids. It hurts so much it makes his stomach turn. He can hear himself moan and tries to open those eyes. Everything around him is white. Nauseatingly bright. Where is he? In a bed, somewhere. He tries to sit, but the slightest movement makes him gasp and retch and…a woman is by his side in an instant, holding some bean-shaped bowl and helping him turn to his side, holding the bowl under his chin, just in time for him to throw up bile in it. It’s disgusting. It hurts. It hurts so much! Make it go away!

She forces him to lie back. Something’s buzzing and he can feel his upper body move upwards. It’s dizzying, but he can see the room now. More beds. Monitors. Beep, beep, beep. Is he hurt? She makes him drink some sweet tea. It hurts to swallow. Everything hurts. For fucks sake, make it stop…please. He can feel the bile rising again and tries to fight it. His mouth is full of saliva. One deep breath…and exhale. Once again. And again. It hurts to breathe. He can feel the air flow reverberating inside his skull.

He can feel something move around his right bicep. The pressure grows stronger until it hurts, followed by a wheezing sound. Then the sensation is suddenly gone again. The woman moves around him, but he can’t focus on what she’s doing. Something cold flows through his left forearm. It’s a strange sensation and it stings. The pain goes away. Everything goes awa…

When he opens his eyes again, the room’s still bright, but slightly yellow. He’s not that nauseous anymore. Just tired. He tries to make sense of it all. He was outside. He made it to the top just to see the ominous shelf cloud right behind the central ridge. The billowing wind should have warned him, but it’s normal at that altitude. The northern sky was still clear when he heard the first deafening thunder and everything around him grew darker with each passing second. He was alone. The sudden wave of panic made his stomach clench…

Alone. Why was he alone? Why is he alone now? He had a fight with someone, someone important…but who? He remembers how they argued about the things he did and his heart sinks. When was it? He tries to look around again. There is a cannula in his left forearm, right above a bandage. Both his hands are bandaged as well, and he can see scrapes on his fingers and knuckles too, covered with some emerald green dye. One of his fingernails is gone, and it stings a little.So, this is a hospital room. He must be injured. That’s probably why it hurts so much, but not as much as… When was it? What time is it? What DAY is it? He notices a digital clock on the opposite wall. 16:37. Come on, Kiszka, think! No, the brain protests. It’s hot in here. He can feel a dribble of sweat running down his forehead. He tries to wipe it away with his fingertips and feels the structure of cohesive bandaging where his hairline should be. Oh god! And he’s alone. Panic engulfs him again, and the nausea comes back, and he suddenly retches again, even though there’s nothing left in his stomach save for two sips of the tea, but it contracts anyway, making him dry heave. It hurts. The woman’s back again, trying to calm him down.

“Where’m I?”

She tries to keep him still, but he cannot keep still. He tries to make her understand. “Please, wha’appened?” She says something, but he doesn’t understand a single word she says. Until he does. One single word, but it fills his heart with bittersweet emotions. Chłopiec. That’s what his grandfather used to call him when he was chasing him around the house. Or them. You just wait, chłopcy, you just wait! And they still ran away, cackling. Ran to the magic room, he and Jakey. Muzyka, magia. He can feel his eyes fill with tears and she frowns and turns away, disappearing in the adjacent room. “Nuhplease, don’t go’way!”

She’s soon back with another, younger woman. “Please, calm down Mr. Kiszka, everything is ok.” That makes him emotional again. He hasn’t heard his name pronounced like this in years. Kishka.

“Where’m I? Wha’appened? Wha’day…” his hoarse voice falters momentarily. He tries to clear his aching throat, but it hurts.

“You were injured and transported here to the University Hospital in Krakow. This morning. So…it is 21st August 2025, so do not worry. You have a broken…uummm…fractured skull.” She immediately notices fear and shock in his eyes and starts flailing her arms around, scared that she probably said more than she should have. “But do not worry, Mr. Kiszka, it is fortunately not serious! You need to rest now and the doctor will say more to you soon!”

“Ma’phone?”

“I’m afraid you didn’t have any phone with you Mr. Kiszka.”

More sweet tea and another intravenous dose of painkillers. Cracked skull…oh god. Time moves slowly. He spends it watching the rhomboids of light move along the opposite wall, growing more and more yellow until they’re almost orange and near the other patient’s headboard. He’s alone. Injured, in pain, hurting and thousands of miles from home and no way to connect with any of them now. Does anyone know? Chris… Last time they spoke, Christopher ended up shouting hurtful things into the speaker. Chris wouldn’t care anyway. Jake…He hung up on Jake, they haven’t spoken since. Or, at least he thinks they haven’t. Something else happened, and it made him feel like he’s destined to keep making mistakes. He wanted to make it better, but then the storm came and now he’s here. He was so scared he’d die in that storm. Maybe he should have. His chest feels tight. This doesn’t feel better…

A man who looks like a doctor arrives shortly after two of the patients in the room had supper. The rest of them, including Josh, are drip-fed. He’s barely moved since he opened his eyes.

“Good evening, Mr. Kiszka, you’re feeling better, I assume?”

“Well, define ‘better.’ He doesn’t want to be rude, but his growing frustration mixed with fear have taken its toll. “I mean…yeah…probably.” It still hurts to speak. His throat is still scratchy and his head feels like a snare drum, each word a hit with a drumstick.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks while examining him routinely.

“No..,.” Josh hesitates first, then adds: “I remember the storm…”

The man starts scribbling something on the clipboard, then turns a few pages and frowns. “Well, that’s expected, so no need to worry. It should come back to you soon. You have suffered a head trauma early this morning, Mr. Kiszka. You have a grade 3 concussion and a linear skull fracture, which is very fortunate, because you didn’t need a surgery and we expect full recovery. Your host, Agnieszka Sikorska, has already notified your brother Jacob Kiszka and your mother Karen Kiszka. I am to inform you that they are already taking…uuuh… action so as to arrive here on Saturday, the day after tomorrow, that is. Pani Sikorska also emailed us the details of your travel insurance, which was insufficient unfortunately, but your brother already took care of it just a moment ago. You young adventurers really think you’re invincible and nothing bad can happen to you, and then you end up here,” the doctor flails his nostrils and pauses to inhale sharply through his nose, for dramatic effect. Prick. “Well, your recovery is now the highest priority, of course, so that wouldn’t be an issue anyway, but you should be more mindful AND careful next time, or it will cost you.” Seriously, what a prick. Am I a fucking child or what? “Now, Mr. Kiszka, do you have any questions?”

Agnieszka…Neszka…Olalla, oh god… His chest tightens again. She called Jake? He told her to call Jake…She was singing and the grass smelled like soap in the breeze… and pennies. He could smell pennies. It comes to him in flashes, but nothing more. It makes no sense. “What exactly happened? Is Neszka here? Can I see her?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know the details, but according to the report, it was a fall injury and Pani Sikorska was with you when the accident happened.” What? “Again, you are very lucky, because to my knowledge, Pani Sikorska moved both your body and your head after your fall and that alone could have caused much greater damage if you were more severely injured. Very unwise.” Don’t you dare speak lowly of her, you son of a bitch! “She is not here, because you’re in the intensive care unit and nobody but your close family can visit you right now. If everything goes well, we shall move you to a regular room on Saturday.”

With that, he excuses himself impassively, wishing Josh a good night before he moves to the next patient, leaving Josh alone with his thoughts again. He remembers her face now, contorted with hurt and rage. But then she hugged him as the fog started to dissipate. She really was with him there. Before he can recollect anything else, he’s given another drip infusion and drifts off…

Friday morning didn’t go easy on him. The feeling of being trapped in your own body is a peculiar condition. In addition to the headache and abrasions on his arms, hand and shins, the strained muscles made themselves felt too. One doesn’t learn to fully appreciate the physiological mechanism of being alive until the cogwheels glitch and pain prevents you from being you. When the body is sore, the mind inevitably hurts as well. More so, when one has a reason to feel miserable.

Once again, it took him a while to remember where he was and why. A white room, full of beds and monitors and beeping sounds. Somewhere behind the door, tray wheels clattered on the floor. Two nurses kept whispering on the other side of the room, their words indecipherable. As soon as he recalled all the sensations and conversations of the previous day, intrusive feelings of worry and hopelessness hit with brutal force.

It was made even worse by the fact that he couldn’t remember what happened after he felt the first raindrop land on his forehead. Bits and pieces came to him like flashes of light: fear and darkness; haze; cold; a sunset, warming his cheek; a soothing feeling of warmth on his chest… It was her hand. Her palm pressed against his sternum while her fingertips kept drawing small circles on his skin. None of it made sense. It was like trying to remember a dream, and failing. It kept slipping through his fingers, save for that one feeling, both exhilarating and oppressive at the same time. Like an underlying current of emotions that may or may not have been connected to the things that he still couldn’t remember.

The realization came long before the storm, and he remembered his determination to tell her once he got back…which he never did. He woke up here instead. His frustration just kept growing.

Lately, his life had been a bead string of bad decisions and unfortunate events, including that ill-considered sentence, uttered without thinking in his half-drunk state. Not exactly lying, but he didn’t tell her the truth either. It was new. She came like a storm, subverting things he thought were immutable. He obviously could, would, and he did. At first he just suspected it, and his own confusion, as well as her evident hurt, robbed him of all the words he could use to explain and to defend himself.

Her body was pressed against his. That’s why she was caressing his chest when both of them lay on a hard, sloped surface, with a starry sky high above them. It must have happened before he fell. A small, grassy patch was their bed for the night, with only a thin, waterproof thermal blanket sheltering their bodies from the damp. He felt so calm, so at peace. And he didn’t tell her.

“I thought I was going to die here. Without saying things I should have said…” “I wouldn’t let you.”

Wouldn’t let him die, or wouldn’t let him say it? Probably both. They were both crazy. And stupid. And from two different worlds…but…pretty much anything is possible, right? That’s what he used to believe.

A flurry of rain started pattering against the window, disturbing the sleepy silence of the hospital room. He was safe here now, and it took him back to another safe place.

He was moving inside slowly, revelling in listening to her short, high-pitched moans. She sounded like a titmouse. It was cute.

“You look like an angel.”

“What?” He paused in his movements, looking down at her incredulously. She laughed softly, looking right into his eyes, and raised her hand to his face to stroke his cheek gently. He leaned into the touch. Heavy rain kept drumming on the roof above them. He rolled his hips playfully, making her make that chirping sound again. She placed her palms on both of his asscheeks to still him momentarily, and continued: “I’m serious. That’s what I thought the first time I saw you, but it’s even more prominent now. Your flushed cheeks, tousled curls…goodness in your eyes…

“Goodness in my eyes…?”

“Yes. You are an angel.”

“I’m not.” He really wanted to dismiss that silly statement with a frown, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“You are now,” she whispered.

Josh was never good at taking compliments. Especially when they came from a position of power, which was usually the case, with him being rather…tiny. Christopher used to have a few cute nicknames for him, but eventually stopped using them, convinced that they made Josh uncomfortable. And to tell the truth, they did. Subconsciously, he always fought for dominance and personal independence. It was easy to love someone unconditionally, it was hard to be vulnerable about it.

Apart from that, no other lover had said anything like that to him before. People do sometimes. Strangers who exaggerate their true emotions because of the momentary excitement stemming from seeing their idol…which is not really him. This was an intimate message, and one he felt comfortable enough to accept, albeit hesitantly. He slowly resumed his pace, closing his eyes and moaning at the sensation, before he continued in a breathy voice: “Probably because you feel like heaven.”

That’s when he fell.

He was allowed to stand up in the evening and, with nurse’s assistance, made it to the bathroom successfully. They gave him apple puree for supper as a reward, with the promise of solid food for breakfast. Yay for small victories!

Jake and mom would arrive the next day and the knowledge made it hard for him to fall asleep. He was desperate to see them.

They moved him to a regular room the next morning, which he shared with a guy in his forties who mostly kept to himself. They wouldn’t be able to talk anyway. So, after a few awkward pleasantries, the man returned back to the story he was reading and Josh resumed his previous activities consisting of staring at the wall or looking out of the window. And waiting. The hours dragged on again, until the most familiar face finally appeared in the doorway.

He had a smile plastered on his face. The radiant version, with his eyebrows slightly raised. However, the two of them could never lie to each other, and Josh saw worry in Jake’s eyes. He looked very tired, too.

Jake tried to hide it, dancing into the room and filling it with his own cocky persona, gesturing theatrically. “Weeell, prepare yerself foh some bollocking, ye olde prick. I mean, wha’s all this?” Josh just sighed and smiled back at him wearily, then glanced apologetically at the other guy who looked up from his e-book and was now assessing Jake warily.

“I’m happy to see you brother, but cut it out. Please.” Josh’s voice still sounded unnaturally croaky, even to his standards. It sobered Jake immediately, and he returned back to his natural, broody self. Remembering too well how it felt when he was in Josh’s place, he opted for sincerity. And so the tired smile was back. He took one of the chairs that stood next to the table and placed it next to Josh’s bed, but didn’t sit. Instead, he looked around, frowning.

“You should have your own room,” he mumbled while trying to open the tilt-and-turn window to let in some fresh air. “I, uhhh...I think I'll go talk to them. This is just… unsuitable. You need rest and privacy. No offense,” he added, turning around to look at the man occupying the other bed, who had no idea what Jake was talking about anyway. He made deliberate efforts to ignore the two of them completely, even though it wasn’t easy. He watched Jake struggle with the window handle for a few moments before he put the e-reader aside, stood up and, motioning Jake to step aside, tilted the window. Then he returned back to bed with a muted voila gesture.

Josh watched the whole show with undisguised amusement, giggling: “See, it has its perks.” He looked at the guy and mouthed a silent Dziękuję! before he turned back to Jake. “Besides, I don’t want a special treatment. Especially now,” he added in a much more solemn undertone.

Jake looked annoyed and huffed dramatically, but stopped pushing it. Rubbing his chin with just two of his fingertips, he looked lost in thought for a second, glancing at the other guy again. Then he just bent down and pulled Josh in a tight embrace.

“Ouch, Jake. Easy!” Josh groaned, but his tone was full of joy, and so was his heart. He closed his eyes, letting it run through his veins like freshly filtered blood. He needed this SO MUCH.

“You really scared me, man!” With the final pat on his back, Jake let go of Josh and helped him back with a grunt. They looked at each other again and both chuckled self-consciously, seeing both their eyes were red now. Jake, after he noticed the other guy trying not to look at them, quickly put his sunglasses back on, earning an annoyed huff from Josh.

“For fuck’s sake, sit down,” Josh motioned to the abandoned chair to his left.

“No, this is for mum.”

“Oh! Where is she, anyway?”

Leaning against the radiator under the window now, Jako answered: “She probably got held up in the nurses’ room, together with…”

Christopher.

Josh felt like his heart stopped for a second. Christopher stood silently in the doorway, reluctant to step inside, his expression a mixture of resigned sadness and caution. “Hey,” he said at last, the tone of his voice still as soothing as the scent of a cedarwood smoke.

“Chris…” Josh crooked, but before any of them could say anything else, there she was, first heard and then seen, storming into the room like a hurricane that sweeps you off your feet only to cradle you against her motherly bosom. And that was exactly what she did. “Oh sweetie! We were SO worried!”

“Mom…” Josh sobbed, grateful that he could disguise all the emotions that started to pour onto the surface with simple joy of seeing her. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t fool his brother. Something was off, and somber-looking Christopher standing hesitantly just nearby wasn’t the only source of all the strange vibrations in that room. But that was expected, and understandable. Surely, it would pass eventually.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” Chris finally broke his silence and moved closer. They weren’t ok, that was more than obvious, but all the things that needed to be discussed could wait. That wasn’t why he came. When Jake called him that the love of his life was lying unconscious half a world away, he didn’t hesitate for a single second. Everything is given its time, and now it was time to hold Josh’s hand. He took it in his, still with hesitancy, and rubbed his thumb gently over the back, careful not to irritate Josh’s scraped knuckles. It was a simple gesture, and Josh understood. He smiled mournfully and Chris let go after a while. Time.

However, even when the talk got more casual and they all started discussing practical consequences of Josh’s injury and the subsequent treatment, the tension still lingered in the air. Chris and Josh kept looking at each other in turns, but never at the same time. Everytime it almost happened, Josh averted his gaze quickly. There was also another silent dialogue going on, as Josh kept trying to tell Jake without words that he needed to talk.

“Mom? Why don’t you go get some coffee? You look really tired,” he asked, rubbing his own stinking and bloodshot eyes. “Maybe some snacks, too.” It was a strange suggestion, but one shared glance told her everything she needed to know. Motioning to Christopher to come and accompany her, they soon left them almost alone.

“Ok, spill,” Jake nearly whispered.

Josh was tearful. “Why is he here, Jake?”

His twin looked at him in confusion. Not even two weeks ago, Josh told him he wished he had him back in his life. Granted, that was before the shit happened and Jake knew they fought over it, but still… It was nothing but an echo of the past, however unpleasant, and whatever they said to each other, it couldn’t have changed his brother’s feelings so drastically. “What do you mean? That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Josh, what the fuck does that mean? What was I supposed to do? Or expected to do? I felt bound to tell him what happened, and then he wanted to come. And I was relieved that he did. He clearly still cares. And he definitely still loves you, because he told me! It’s only understandable that he’s a bit reserved. But… Are you not happy he’s here?”

“I am. Of course I am. I just…I…”

“Ok, brother, tell me what happened. Now!”

@its-interesting-van-kleep @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @lvnterninthenight @fleet-of-fiction @takenbythemadness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @tripthelightfantastix @sanguinebats @love-isnt-greed @klarxtr @kiszkas-canvas @wetkleenex-gvf

#greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfic #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fanfic #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka fluff #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #josh kiszka x oc #gvf fanfic #gvf fanfiction #gvf #jake gvf #josh gvf #Spotify

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mfm-mielec · 2 months ago

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STANISŁAW SOYKA & GROTT ORKIESTRA W projekcie „Dusza”

22 września 2024 r., godz.19.00, sala widowiskowa Domu Kultury SCK w Mielcu koncert biletowany - bilet 60 i 80 zł

„DUSZA" - to projekt koncertowy Stanisława Soyki i Grott Orkiestry. W repertuarze wieczoru znajdą się wybrane kompozycje tego wyjątkowego Artysty, zarówno takie hity jak „Tolerancja" czy „Kiedy jesteś taka bliska", jak i mniej popularne, acz przecudnej urody, utwory Mistrza. A wszystko to w kameralnych aranżacjach, przygotowanych specjalnie na ten wieczór. Artyście towarzyszyć będzie Grott Orkiestra - rodzinny zespół założony przez rodzeństwo: oboistkę Kamę Grott-Tomaszek oraz basistę i kompozytora Michała Grotta.

Projekt „DUSZA" powstał z fascynacji Grott Orkiestry twórczością Stanisława Soyki - jednego z najwybitniejszych współczesnych śpiewaków i kompozytorów. Tu utwory Soyki znane publiczności w wersjach autorskich Michał Grott opracował na Grott Orkiestrę. To nowe, świeże ujęcie stanowiące samo w sobie wartość dodaną.

STANISŁAW SOYKA

Urodzony w 1959 r. w Żorach polski wokalista jazzowy i popowy, pianista, gitarzysta, skrzypek, kompozytor. Swoją muzyczną drogę rozpoczyna jako sopran w chórze katedralnym w Gliwicach. Kończy Liceum Muzyczne w Katowicach oraz wydział aranżacji i kompozycji w Katowickiej Akademii Muzycznej. Debiutuje w listopadzie 1978 roku recitalem w Filharmonii Narodowej w Warszawie w ramach cyklu „Jazz w Filharmonii". Od połowy lat 80. ujawnia się coraz bardziej indywidualny styl artysty. Odchodzi od klasyki amerykańskiej w stronę polskiej tradycji muzycznej.

W jego dorobku znajdziemy ponad 40 albumów, z których kilka osiągnęło multiplatynowe nakłady m.in. „BLUBLULA”, „Matko, która nas znasz”, „RCA Stanisław Sojka”, „Radioaktywny”, „Acoustic”, „Sonety Shakespeare”, „Tryptyk Rzymski”, „Tylko brać… Osiecka znana i nieznana” oraz „Muzyka i Słowa Stanisław Soyka” nominowany do Fryderyka 2020 Album Roku Pop Alternatywny.

Nagrody:

1994 - Fryderyk – najlepszy wokalista 2003 - Fryderyk –album Roku Piosenka Poetycka płyta „Tryptyk Rzymski” 2011 - Grand Prix Krajowego Festiwalu Piosenki w Opolu za całokształt twórczości. 2014 - Bursztynowy Słowik podczas Sopot Festiwal

Odznaczenia:

2005 - Medal „Zasłużony Kulturze Gloria Artis” (srebrny) 2009 - Krzyż Kawalerski Orderu Odrodzenia Polski

GROTT ORKIESTRA

Grott Orkiestra to rodzinny, wielopokoleniowy zespół stworzony przez rodzeństwo: oboistkę i managera kultury Kamę Grott-Tomaszek oraz basistę, kompozytora i aranżera Michała Grotta.

Grott Orkiestra odpowiadała za oprawę muzyczną „Wielkiego Kolędowania z Polsatem” w latach 2019-21 roku, koncertu „Fundacja Polsat 25 lat. Jesteśmy dla dzieci”, Gali BohaterON w latach 2021-23, koncertów na Earth Festival Uniejów 2022-23, Polsat SuperHit Festiwal, Gali 30-lecia Telewizji POLSAT, koncertu „100 lat Disneya” i wielu innych, podczas których zespół towarzyszył takim gwiazdom polskiej estrady jak: Irena Santor, Eleni, Edyta Bartosiewicz, Cleo, Justyna Steczkowska, Sanah, Dawid Kwiatkowski, Paweł Domagała, Igor Herbut, Roksana Węgiel, Zakopower, Golec uOrkiestra, Bednarek czy Krzysztof Cugowski i wielu innych.

Na zaproszenie Muzeum Powstania Warszawskiego stworzyli cykl koncertów online pt. „Muzyczna Pocztówka”, a także oprawę muzyczną projektów #JednymGłosem, upamiętniających 76. i 77. rocznicę wybuchu Powstania Warszawskiego.

Orkiestra współpracuje ze Stowarzyszeniem Program Czysta Polska, dla którego stworzyła oprawę muzyczną programu telewizyjnego „Czysta Polska”, najnowszej kampanii spotów oraz hymn stowarzyszenia pt. „Psalm dla Ziemi” (sł.Jacek Cygan muz. Michał Grott), który wykonują Kasia Mosek, chór Sound’n’Grace z towarzyszeniem Grott Orkiestry.

Od 2022 roku zespół jest gospodarzem autorskiego, kameralnego festiwalu „Rokola – festiwal na trawie”, cyklu widowisk muzycznych promujących kulturę Urzecza – „Śpiewanki nad Świdrem” oraz koncertów dla najmłodszej widowni m.in. „Kram z literami – opowieść muzyczna”.

GROTT ORKIESTRA

Michał Grott - kierownictwo muzyczne, gitara basowa, ukulele basowe Kama Grott-Tomaszek - manager, obój Marta Grott - skrzypce Jakub Grott - skrzypce Mikołaj Grott - waltornia Miłosz Grott - instrumenty perkusyjne Agnieszka Dobrzyńska - altówka Wojciech Bafeltowski - wiolonczela Michał Szlempo - instrumenty klawiszowe Mateusz Krawczyk - perkusja

#festiwalmielec2024

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