One day my friend and I decided to go to an abandoned village that was not far from ours. This village is strange and creepy, few people dare to look there. Surrounded by forest on all sides, over the years of desolation it has become a refuge for many wild animals and forest reptiles. The last inhabitant died a long time ago, and all the paths and roads are overgrown. Those who were there said that everything is in place in the houses, there is a feeling that everyone just left, forgetting to take their things. Even marauders did not dare to meddle there, but then we didn’t care much. I really wanted to go there and see everything with my own eyes ...
It was a clear autumn day outside. The first snow was about to fall, but instead of it only leaden clouds slowly crawled across the sky. My friend thought that we couldn’t find better weather, because winter is coming and then we definitely won’t go anywhere. Having dressed warmly, we set off. Soon the first huts appeared ahead, skewed and dilapidated, they looked miserable. There was only one street in the village, and along it stood old houses that once glimmered with life. The poles slanted, breaking the wires, now only their gloomy silhouettes blocked the way. Everywhere was full of weeds and trees.
Some of them literally pulled out the roofs of houses, lifting them above the houses. I immediately felt uneasy and I asked my friend to leave, but he just brushed it off, saying that they had been so much - and all in vain. But I did not let up, a storm broke out in my soul, a premonition of the bad arose, with every second the pressure of this place became heavier. Comrade, laughing at me, went to the nearest hut. In order not to hang around on the street, I followed. Inside, as they said, there was everything that should be in a village hut. My friend went into the room, on the table, under a layer of dust, lay a Soviet pocket watch.
Dima (friend) picked them up, but then a slight rustle was heard outside.
We walked out of the house together, looking around. A crow sat on a dilapidated fence in the yard. A sigh of relief left our lips, but then she croaked loudly and, flapping her wings, flew over the village. At that moment, dozens of black birds swirled above us, roaring deafeningly. We hurried to leave. But not far from the gate, Dima stood in his tracks. Since I was looking the other way, I immediately ran into him. Following his gaze, I was horrified: in the middle of the road stood a very old woman, all in black, beckoning us with her finger. I felt the hairs on my head stand on end. For a moment our eyes met. Midnight eyes seemed to look into the very depths of the soul. But in the next second, my body came out of its stupor. Grabbing Dima by the arm, I pulled with all my strength in the opposite direction. Finally his legs started to work, and we rushed up the hill. So I've never run. On the hill, I had the courage to turn around briefly.
The crow had already sat down in its place, but it still stood in the middle of the road and kept beckoning us. I didn’t turn around anymore, we ran for a long time until we were exhausted, then we went. Suddenly Dima stopped and opened his hand. Something steel flashed and disappeared into the withered grass. I wanted to pick it up, but my friend stopped me with the words: "What belongs to this place should stay here." After that we moved on. Many years have passed since then, but not me, not Dima, never remembered this story, perceiving it as nightmare.
Many people do not believe in the existence of something paranormal, they are looking for a logical explanation mystical stories and often find themselves drawn into various mysterious stories. This is everywhere: in small towns, and in huge metropolitan areas, and in villages. This story is about villagers. Everything told here really happened during the Soviet Union.
What is a village? These are houses, surrounded by greenery of gardens and surrounded by forests and fields. The fragrance of herbs and the aromas of wildflowers mingle with the scents of hay and manure. Fresh air and space. During the day, birds chirp and butterflies flutter, local children run and adults work. Near the houses of moonshiners, local men gather to drink and eat, while the women work in the fields.
So is our main character whose name was, say, Peter. He was a hard-working man, but he liked to drink. While his wife was doing housework and looking after the children, he went for moonshine to one of the local grandmothers. In the village, everyone knows each other, everything is in plain sight, and there are always those who sell cheap "green snakes". Televisions at that time had just entered people's lives and the men gathered on the weekends to discuss a football or hockey match over a glass.
And on Sunday morning, Peter went to the store for bread and, unfortunately, he met his comrades, who just thought for three. The third was missing, but then our hero turned up. It didn't take long to persuade the man and they drank. But does a true Russian village hard worker stop at one glass? So they, glass by glass, got drunk. It was already evening, dark. The men dispersed to their homes, but Peter could not reach, as he fell into a ditch, he fell asleep.
Summer, warm nights. Somewhere in the forest an owl hoots, cicadas sing in the grass, and nightingales fill the gardens. There is a young month in the sky, at least a little illuminating everything around. Clouds float lazily across the dark sky strewn with beads of stars. Dogs chirp lazily in the yards, and the working people have been sleeping for a long time. There is no light in any of the windows.
Peter wakes up from shaking, looking, it turns out he is lying in a cart in hay, and the cart is going somewhere and someone is urging the horse. The man thought that he was some kind of acquaintance, but the night was not visible. He began to ask the owner of the cart who he was and where they were going, and how he whistled, how the horse was whipped with a whip, she sped even faster, and turned to his grandfather, shouted:
- Far away, Petro, let's go, oh far away!
Pyotr crawled on his back to the reins, the horse ran so that it seemed the cart would fall apart, his nerves gave out and he shouted:
- Where are you going like that?!
And the owner of the cart only chirps the horse even more.
- Stop, you fool! Peter yelled again.
And the owner of the cart shouted in response:
- I can't stop, oh I can't. I'm afraid I won't be able to get you there.
- So we drove through my hut a long time ago, we are already driving through the meadow! the man yelled in disbelief.
- Yes, in another house, Petro, already in another! shouted the owner of the cart, laughing.
While Peter thought about what was happening, he said:
- Lord, I have no other home!
And then the owner of the cart suddenly grew horns, he became covered with hair, horse hooves appeared instead of legs and laughed out loud. The frightened man jumped out of the cart and rolled head over heels on the ground. And the horned owner of the cart did not even stop, he only shouted:
- You're lucky, Petro, but next time you won't jump, I'll take you already!
Peter woke up in the same ditch in which he fell asleep. He lay in horse manure mixed with straw. Arriving home, the man silently drank vodka and this was his last glass. He told his wife what happened to him, but she only grumbled:
- Drunk to hell.
But from that day Peter never drank again and lived to a ripe old age. The village peasants were only amazed, and twisted their fingers at their temples.
According to rumors, there is one village in one area of the far north. It is abandoned and long abandoned. But, as the old-timers say, no one left there at all, and all the residents disappeared without a trace. And it is not known what caused this - whether the disease decimated everyone or what unknown forces took them away. To this day, only one road passes through this village, leading to more lively places. And one day, when you are in these places, remember one rule - no one should drive through this village at night.
This story happened at the turn of the sixties - seventies of the last century. One night two travelers on horseback were heading down this road. Of course, they had never heard of the local rule. One of them was young, daring, and his horse was a match for him: strong, fast and skittish. He galloped ahead, humming a song merrily. An old man followed him at a leisurely pace. His faithful horse, with whom he lived almost all his life, wearily stepped with his hooves on the road mud. There was nothing left for them to go through. It was evening, and they were going to reach their destination in the morning. Soon the young man turned to his companion.
Hey grandfather! I'll run ahead and make my way. If so, we'll meet on the spot.
Well, go. On my own I'll get there somehow, otherwise my back hurts to keep up with you.
The young man nodded eagerly and immediately galloped forward. The old man walked for some time, until he rushed back. His appearance was contented and delighted. Looks like he brought good news.
There is a village ahead. A kind woman lives there. She said she would give us shelter for the night and treat us to dinner.
Well, how! - the old one was also delighted. - Finally, in a human way, we will spend the night: under the roof and in the warmth.
Well, I jumped. - The young man explained to him where to find that house and drove the horse, hurrying to find himself at the warm hearth.
The night was in full swing when the old man entered the village. She was bad. Houses squinted, empty windows looked unkindly. In the distance, in the midst of this devastation, a light burned and smoke rose. “What did that woman lose here?” The old man doubted himself. He drove into the courtyard, dismounted. He took the horse by the bridle and began to tie it to the serge (the Yakut pole to which horses were tied. Also, in addition to its practical meaning, it has a sacred meaning about the connection with the three worlds: upper, middle and lower). Then the horse bucked, looked at the owner with a human look and said to him: “You have come to a bad place, old man, but what can you do. Do not say anything. Pretend you don't hear. I feel that a bad force lurks in this house. The owner of the house is not a person, but an embittered spirit. Do as I command if you want to live. Don't bind me. And untie that young one too. As soon as you enter the house, the hostess will treat you with various dishes. Refuse politely and eat what you have with you. And then, when she settles you for the night, you don't listen to her. Lie down in front of the door. Do not fall asleep, do not close your eyes and listen. Maybe you'll live until the morning. And if something goes wrong, immediately run and saddle a young horse. He is faster and stronger than me. And I'll follow. Don't say my words to your friend. He will make you laugh, and he is already doomed.
The old man was old and superstitious, and therefore was not surprised. He did not tie his horses, and with a heavy heart he went along the overgrown path to the house. From fear of the unknown, a spasm ran down their backs, a cold sweat broke out. After all, he did! A woman cannot live alone in an abandoned village! And so, with trembling knees, the old man stepped into the house. Despite everything in the house, the stove crackled hospitably, there was a delicious smell of boiled meat. The young man sat at the table and ate on both cheeks. The hostess bustled around him. Not young, but not old either, plump, economic. Inspires confidence. The old man greeted the mistress of the house and sat down at the table next to the young one. Arranging dinner in front of the old man, she kept asking what was going on in the world, what news they had. Like the most ordinary woman in the wilderness. Yes, the old horse would not deceive the old man, and therefore he was on his guard, but at the same time he tried not to betray himself. Large, juicy and fatty pieces of boiled meat, sour cream, cottage cheese, jam - all this was at the table. How did she manage to keep the household in such an abandoned place? The old man was finally convinced of the words of his old friend. The old man did not touch the bewitched food, he took out his oats, cooked a little earlier, and sat quietly in a corner. The young man looked at the old man in bewilderment and reproached him for not showing respect for the hostess, refusing to eat.
Why did you get your oats? Show respect to the good hostess, taste something.
I would be glad, but my stomach is no longer the same as in my youth. He answered with all courtesy. - I won't be able to taste this meat. Tomorrow you have to get up early and go for a long time. Don't misunderstand, good mistress.
You seem to be completely out of your mind, since you reject such mercy! Well, okay, I'll get more.
The table was soon empty, the conversations died down. The woman invited everyone to sit closer to the fire. They lay down to sleep. The young man lay down in the warmth by the fire, and fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. The old man lay down at the door. He lay there, listening and trembling. The fire in the stove went out surprisingly quickly. Cold rose from the floor and gradually reached the bones, but the old man remained where he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a shadow running quickly along the wall. The old man was terribly scared. Then he heard quiet sounds as if someone were drinking and champing. The sounds came from a far dark corner. The old man quietly got up, took his knapsack and looked around.
And it immediately became clear that he should not have done this.
In the darkness, the silhouette of the hostess was distinguished. She huddled in the dark on all fours. Horror gripped him as the moon illuminated that corner a little. She dragged the young one there and devoured him with a frenzy. All shaking, the old man cautiously opened the door, trying to leave without being noticed. On leaving, he touched a stick at the threshold on the edge of his clothes, which fell to the floor with a wild crack. The hostess threw her inhuman, hungry look. The old man screamed in panic and rushed outside. The old man fled from the accursed house as if the years he had lived had retreated from him. Behind him, the cries of the hostess were heard, filled with anger and resentment. When he ran, the old man nearly jumped on his horse out of habit, but he remembered what he had said to him, and in a second he was already galloping at full speed on the young one. Behind him is the old one. The young horse sensed the old man's fear and rushed at full speed.
"I'll catch up with you! You won't get away from me!" yelled the hostess from behind.
The horse told the old man not to look back. But he couldn't help himself. Grandfather looked around, and fear settled forever in his heart. This woman ran like a dog at the speed of a bear. Her eyes burned with red fire in the night, her mouth was huge, with sharp protruding fangs. A long tongue dangled behind. All her face and hands were covered in blood. She made nasty coughing noises as she ran. The distance between them was rapidly shrinking.
"Run, master! I already have a little left” - only the loyalty of the old horse was stronger than fear. The old one abruptly stopped, rearing up and turned to the accursed mistress. The old man never saw his old faithful horse again, but he did not forget to remember him with a kind word.
"I will find you! I'll get it out of the ground! You can't run from me! I ate your friend, I will eat your horse and soon I will come to you! - the woman, distraught with impotent rage, shouted after the old man. He seemed to have heard these words more than once at night somewhere in the distance.
The old man did not dare to go down this road even in daylight, and therefore returned home. Then he learned that this woman appears at night, lures and kidnaps travelers. Maybe it was she who devoured all the inhabitants of that village, or maybe she appeared after. However, this village stands to this day, and no one dares to walk on it when the sun goes down.
P.S. This village, as I was told, can be seen from images from orbit, but the author does not remember its name: this story has been told for a long time. By the way, but the car is not a horse, it will not warn you if something happens.
The sad news overtook, as usual, at the most unexpected moment. The phone rang. It was the chairman of the village, in which Yegor had not appeared for more than five years. Not because he was very busy or the village was too far away. It's just that he had nothing to do with this place, except for the only grandfather who lived there. But ... by chance, a sad voice from the phone said that today he was gone, and Yegor had to come to the funeral. Since the day of the funeral fell on Saturday, there were no difficulties with this. Moreover, Yegor was the only heir, and he had to sign documents for
ownership. And so, on the appointed day, waking up early, dressed, he sat down in his old "top ten" and set off. The road there takes no more than an hour, and even then for the reason that the condition of the road does not allow you to gain a decent speed.
The old wooden skewed house caused notes of nostalgia. Almost nothing has changed since ancient times. His gaze fell on the blue coffin lid at the entrance. Grandmothers walking by are baptized. Everyone looks very worried. Egor, opening the creaky wooden gate, slowly walked to the house, the door of which was open. The smell of garlic hit my nose, which, for some reason, was hung at all windows and doors.
"Good afternoon! came a low, loud voice. Directly at the coffin stood not a small-form clergyman, but next to him the chairman of the village, convulsively fiddling with an Orthodox rosary in his hand. - Who are you to the deceased? “My name is Egor and I am the grandson of Valentin Aleksandrovich,” the guy answered unexpectedly in a trembling voice. Batiushka and the chairman looked at each other enigmatically. Silence hung in the air. Finally, the chairman, taking a deep breath, spoke: "You know, recently they called from the notary's office, they said that they could not come earlier than tomorrow." Yegor, nodding approvingly and looking at the body of the deceased lying in the coffin, left the room. Strange, but grandfather, from his memoirs, had nothing to do with the person lying in the coffin. Time does its thing.
Right on the threshold, he almost ran into another tearful granny, who probably came to say goodbye. Apologizing, he was about to move on, when suddenly his attention was attracted by a barely intelligible muttering coming from the lips of the mourner. “Well… what will happen to us now… to us… to all of us….” - it was inaudible further, as she went around the corner. "Well, well," Yegor thought. Apparently everyone here knows each other. Or maybe grandfather was a jack of all trades. Going out into the open air and lighting a cigarette, I noticed that a decent number of locals had already gathered around the house. Old men and old women are almost all who remained to live in this remote village. "The time has come!" A familiar bass sounded from behind. Stepping aside and letting inside three not entirely decrepit, but still, old men and one very young boy, who looked about 15 years old, Yegor looked around, once again, at all those gathered. Absolutely all of them cried and were baptized. All were dressed in black. All this looked very strange. After all, these people ... they were not even relatives. Why are they so killed?
All the same four carried the coffin, having previously closed it with a lid, and carried it towards the cemetery, which was located directly outside the village. Everyone in the crowd followed. The rumble of weeping and prayers became louder and louder, from this Egor's head ached in earnest. He wanted to get it over with as soon as possible and leave this strange place, even though he felt somewhat ashamed of his indifference.
During the funeral, each mourner came up and threw a handful of earth while whispering something. Egor stood indifferently on the sidelines. And only at the very end did he dare to approach and, touching the coffin, mentally say goodbye and ask for forgiveness for not appearing here for so long. "Young man! - an old woman's voice sounded behind him - you are the grandson of the respected Valentin Alexandrovich, right? Oh what a blessing to have you here! Tell me, now you will take his post and continue his occupation, right? Yegor looked at her with surprised eyes: “What? What are you talking about? What's the matter?" Apparently, her husband approached the woman from behind and, taking her by the hand, began to lead her away. Her face changed: “But… but if not you, then who? WHO CAN DO THIS NOW!!!???”. Despair and anger flashed in his eyes. Yegor, wiping the drops of sweat from his forehead, hurriedly moved towards his grandfather's house, next to which he parked his car.
"It just can't be!" Yegor said aloud, looking at the cut and, accordingly, flattened all 4 wheels. The rubber looked like it had been chewed on. From around the corner of the house, with a mysterious face, the chairman came out. In his hand were again the Orthodox rosary, which he nervously fingered. Looking at the wheels and defiantly drooping, he turned to the guy:
- Well, well ... it seems that he did not have time to appear, but he already annoyed someone!
- What?! Yes, the only person with whom I communicated is you and the priest! What the hell is going on here?
- Heh ... so the local punks have so much fun. Well, whatever it was, it's fixable. Tomorrow at lunchtime Mikhalych will arrive from the city. He has his own workshop not far away, he will patch everything up for you in a jiffy! In the meantime, feel at home ... in other terms, this is now probably your home!
- Tomorrow at lunchtime? But I need today! Tell me, is there any way I can leave today? Do buses run here?
- The only bus runs at lunchtime, and it left a few hours ago. So what do you want - do not want to, but spend the night here! And even more so, the notary will arrive tomorrow, the will will be read.
- I don't care about the will, I'm leaving today, now!
Yegor took out his cell phone, found a taxi number in the telephone directory and pressed the call button. Silence. “Is this some kind of prank??? - he looked at the display, showing: “No connection” - how do you live here !!!”. Egor put the phone in his pocket and looked sadly towards the house. He understood that he would have to spend the night.
All day, sitting in a house that stank of garlic, he received "guests". It seemed that all the local old women and grandfathers decided to visit him with their condolences. And almost everyone looked at Yegor with hope in his eyes. It's just not clear what they wanted.
A priest came into the house, looking more excited than the others: “Egor. So you're staying here until tomorrow?" In response, the boy nodded approvingly. Father closed the door to the room. "Listen to me carefully. As strange as what you're about to hear sounds... you have to do everything exactly as I tell you! You understood me?! After eleven o'clock it is strictly forbidden to leave the house ... especially from this! Do not remove the garlic from the windows in any case - listing all his instructions, he seemed to be unable to keep up with his own thoughts. Yegor sat opposite and looked at him with glassy eyes. - So that you do not hear and do not see - sit in the house! Just stay here and then in the morning you can safely go home. You understood me???!!!". He grabbed the guy by the shoulders and shook him several times. There was a knock at the door. Another visitor came to visit the poor guy. The priest got up from his chair and, having crossed Yegor, left the house.
The car radio clock showed 10:45 when the guy sat in his car and listened to the radio, since there was absolutely nothing to do in the house, and this was the only place where you could hide from the annoying locals. Despite the stress of the experience, he still managed to doze off. A pleasant soothing melody came from the speakers. Nobody interfered. In his head, Yegor scrolled through all the events of the past busy day. At first, how strange everything that is happening here is, then memories from early childhood came flooding back. How he and his grandfather went fishing, how he built a wooden tree house for him ... this made me a little sad and ashamed.
A noisy radio wave made him open his eyes. “What the fuck is going on with this car,” Yegor said wearily and, reaching out with his finger to the key on the receiver, froze. His gaze settled on the dark silhouette of a man standing a few meters from the car, right in the middle of the road. Wearing a black hat and long cloak, staggering from time to time. With all his body, Yegor, he felt that this someone was looking directly at him. Goosebumps ran through the body, but the guy, opening the car door and sticking his head out, taking in air, shouted: “Holy Father, is that you?”. As expected, there was no response. Someone was in the wrong place. Egor narrowed his eyes, trying to see the stranger. But suddenly, what he saw seemed to turn everything inside him. He wasn't sure about it, and perhaps it even seemed to him at all, but ... something big and slimy, sticking out, as if from his mouth, hanging down to his stomach, moved and pulled back ... as if a huge black tongue plunged into oral cavity.
Sitting back in the car and, on the machine, locking all the doors, Yegor, drew attention to the time. 11:03. Like a bullet pierced into his head, remembering the last meeting with the priest and what he said. But ... this is just nonsense! This looks like a really bad joke! With trembling hands, convulsively, he raised his eyes again and pulled the handle, turning on the high beam... No one. There was nothing at the very spot where someone had just stood.
The distance to the house was about 20 meters. Egor looked towards the porch… the gate was wide open. He also noticed that in all the houses, in the windows of which light had recently burned, darkness reigned. The whole village seemed to plunge into a viscous black paint.
Opening the door and, without a second's hesitation, Yegor ran out of the car and rushed towards his grandfather's house. Having reached the gate and ran into the territory of the site, his leg caught on something and, almost flat, he collapsed on the grass. Getting up, already limping heavily, he continued to move towards the house. And now, having already reached the very door, opening it and about to step inside, behind him there was a terrible loud metallic rattle, from which Yegor froze ... and slowly turned his shaking head. Someone, all in the same hat and long coat, standing next to his car, slowly, with claws sticking out of his fingers, led along the body, leaving scratches and making this disgusting rattle. Yegor's heart was beating like crazy. It was like a terrible dream. Overpowering himself and finally going inside the room, closing the door behind him, he still limping, went into the room. What he should do, he didn't know. Therefore, he simply sat down against the wall on the floor and waited. Waiting for morning. It is not known how much time has passed, but either from fatigue or from shock, Yegor was able to doze off.
Knock Knock. A soft knock slowly began to pull out of sleep. Knock-knock - repeated again and the guy finally opened his eyes. Silence. Rising to his feet and looking around - still not finding the source of the sound, Yegor again took out his cell phone. There was still no connection. The clock is 4:15. And this means that it will soon become light and, for some reason, he was sure that everything will end there. And since no one has bothered him so far, it means that the priest was right.
Knock Knock. The knock was heard again on the right side of Yegor, coming from the window. The guy turned his head, and ... his legs could not hold him. Dropping to the floor, he crawled back against the wall, his eyes fixed on the window. "Knock-knock" - a long thin finger, with a claw, instead of an ordinary human nail, tapped on the glass. And beside... beside, in a gray shabby hat, staring straight at him, he saw the face of this...creature. The embittered look of a gray, unnaturally shaped face drove Yegor's soul to the very heels. From the horror experienced, it became difficult for him to breathe. With a long black tongue, it licked the glass, leaving slime on the glass, visible even in the dark, and slowly removed its head from the glass. The knock was repeated again, but this time coming from the front door. Then again - on the ceiling. At every rustle, at every sound, the presence of a monster - Yegor shuddered nervously and directed his frightened eyes in the direction of the sound. This went on until dawn. But, with the first rays of the sun, everything calmed down.
There was a knock on the door as the sun was already pouring in through the windows. These were not those demonstrative tapping, calculated to scare. It was a living human knock, followed by a low bass of the priest: “Is anyone alive ???”. Yegor, rising to shaky legs, went to the door. He hesitated for a minute, until another loud knock, he opened the door. Light hit him in the face, from which, closing his eyes, he almost collapsed to the floor. The priest, with a stern look, looked at the guy. From his look, it immediately became clear that no explanations were required here. He already knows everything. “So… he did come after all…” he spoke softly, going inside. "I'm glad I didn't get to you." "What? Who? Who was that?" Yegor wheezed, rising in a plaintive voice. "Freak. Demon. The curse of our village. A predator that comes out to hunt every night. Haven't you noticed that we have practically only old men and old women? After what it did to Maria's seven-year-old daughter…” He trailed off. But, drawing air into his lungs, he continued - everyone who could, left this God-cursed place. And they took their children." “But, but why don’t you leave here yourself???” Yegor froze with a questioning expression on his face. “Because we are the only thing keeping him here. And yesterday was not the last hunter to fight back. Restraining beast. What will happen to us now ... ".
The clergyman, shaking his head, waved his hand towards the street: “The notary came .... I don't think this will come as a surprise to you. Now this is your home and your land. There are documents in the board, you need to sign. Yes, and this is also for you - he held out an old rusty key, on a badly worn cord. – I have no idea what it is. Your car is ready. You can leave this place." he said and left the house. Yegor, once again looking around the room, completely unaware of what to do with all this, was about to go outside.
The wooden plank, under his left foot, emitted a not loud, but attention-grabbing, creak. It was a cellar. After hesitating, Yegor nevertheless closed the front door and, with difficulty, was able to open the cellar door. Beneath it was another door... or rather a metal hatch, locked. It was not difficult to guess that it was the key that the priest had given him that came up to this lock. Turning it, there was a low metallic crack, and the passage was opened. Uncertainly, along the steep iron stairs, Yegor nevertheless went down. He fumbled for a light switch on the wall, flipped it on, and the room lit up with a bright light.
The walls of a small underground room were densely hung with all kinds of inventory, the meaning of which, after what was seen, is not difficult to guess. A crossbow, an old pistol from the Soviet era, transparent glass balls with painted Orthodox crosses, a wire net, heads of garlic, a double-barreled gun… Egor felt dizzy with surprise. The day before yesterday, he lived an ordinary life, went to work, met girls, went to clubs. And now a secret has fallen on his shoulders, the burden of which, it seemed, is prohibitive.
Going out into the yard, he saw that his car was indeed standing, ready to depart. The only thing that reminds me of a terrible night is three scratches on the driver's door. Gathering, but not having time to take a step, his eyes fell on something dark gray lying in the bushes. Egor leaned over. Realizing that this was an echo, a feeling of all-consuming fear experienced at night came. These were wooden Orthodox rosaries. The very ones that the chairman of this village twirled annoyingly. Taking them in his hands, a trace of a thick, slimy substance remained on Yegor's hands. Exactly the same that remained on the window, now his, at home. Putting the find in his pocket, he again went into the room and closed both doors of the cellar.
With a confident gait, the guy went out into the street, got into the car and, having started it, parked on the territory of the house. Closing the gate behind him, he caught the surprised look of the same priest who was standing on the other side of the road. Not loudly, rather even for himself, Yegor said in a confident voice: "I'm staying."
When I was little, one summer we went to the Vologda region to relax with relatives. And the edges there are swampy, impenetrable forests - in general, a gloomy area. Relatives lived in a village on the edge of the forest (in fact, it was a holiday village).
We arrived during the day, overcast and raining. While we settled down, the adults began to kindle the barbecue under a canopy, the women were busy in the kitchen, and I was the only child there, so I was bored.
Toward evening we ate kebabs, sat down at the table in a cheerful company, adults drank vodka. Fog came from the swamps - it often happened there in the summer. In between singing songs, relatives told stories about local people. One of them deserves special attention, because it is directly related to what happened next.
An old grandfather lived in their tree. His old house was practically in the forest, and his grandfather was very rarely seen (well, if once every couple of years). Grandfather did not talk to anyone, walked in the same clothes, and always bypassed people. None of the locals knew how old he was. He seemed to be the oldest in the village. From oddities - in winter, smoke from the chimney never came from his house; he did not have any relatives, in any case, no one saw them; when grandfather appeared at the edge of the forest, he looked towards the village for a minute, then turned around and went into the forest; his house was never lit from the inside.
Means, we sit, we eat, we have fun. The fog descended - fresh milk. It stayed for a couple of hours until it began to get dark, then slowly dissipated. Someone came up with the idea: if the fog cleared, the whole crowd should be photographed against the backdrop of the forest (the places are beautiful, after all), until it finally got dark.
We got together and took pictures with the then fashionable Polaroid. I remember that in the developed picture there were many such small shooting defects in the form of perfectly round balls, and they were mainly concentrated around that grandfather's house.
After that, the men went to bed, the women stayed on the veranda to talk and drink their wine, and so did I. They began to gossip about relatives, then they started talking about the locals again and remembered again about this old man. And I'm sitting, looking at Polaroid pictures, and I came across a general picture.
Children are very impressionable creatures. When I saw the old man’s house in the background, surrounded by balls, I got scared, and when in the next picture I saw the old man himself in the distance, retreating into the forest with some kind of bag, I felt that it was beyond my strength to consider all this alone. He showed pictures of his mother and sister, they passed them around. Everyone agreed that it was terrible.
Late at night they got ready to sleep. We went to see off the neighbors (their house stood between our house and the old man's house). Approached the house, hugs, farewells. And then we heard a strange rumble: as if we were standing in a hefty long pipe, and there was wind outside, and such a characteristic sound was heard from the opposite end of the pipe. Have you guessed what I'm talking about? But we were standing on the street, and the rumble came from the side of the forest and dispersed throughout the district. I began to slowly "merge" from fear.
My sister and godmother went home for the men (the godmother was on the verge of a heart attack). The neighbors came out - also to the sound. Our men came running from the house. No one said a word - everyone just stood, listened to these sounds and succumbed to a seemingly unreasonable panic. My mother took my father and me by the hand.
As a result, the whole crowd moved towards the hut in the forest. As we approached, we noticed an unpleasant odor. The smell of metal mixed with the smell of ... antiquity, or something. In a way, it was like the stench of decay.
Came to a house. It was not clear whether there was anyone in it or not. Everyone didn't want to knock on the door. Not only is the old man scary, but also the night and these sounds ...
The door was unlocked. The neighbor went in first, followed by everyone else. The house was in terrible ruin, there was an incredible stench. We went either into the living room, or into the dining room and were freaked out by what we saw.
Grandma was on the floor. On the head - something like a muzzle, the grandmother herself without legs and arms (apparently, they were amputated long ago). She made grunting sounds; as we understood, her chest was pierced. There was a pin on the floor nearby. This pin is used to pierce the heart of pigs when they are slaughtered.
Women, having come to their senses, rushed to help. The sight is disgusting: blood is flowing from a pierced chest, along the way, snuffling sounds are heard mixed with grunting. My father turned me to the wall so that I would not look. The neighbor ran home to call an ambulance.
Forty minutes later the ambulance arrived, with the police. The noise had stopped by then.
Investigators later came to the conclusion that the grandmother had been locked up for forty years, and that grandfather was slowly cutting her. First of all, he cut her vocal cords so that she could not scream. The devil knows how he stopped the bleeding and how the grandmother survived. She ultimately died in the hospital.
And no one has seen my grandfather since that day. All that remains is his silhouette in the photograph in the evening, far away, at the edge of the forest.
