A restless passenger

 Once upon a time, I was interested in classic English and American horror stories from the "Weeping Well" series or similar to the writings of Lovecraft. I especially liked the idea that anyone can open doors to other worlds, but only the strong in spirit can keep their sanity at the same time. Oh, how attractive it was... Fortunately, I didn't go any further than reading books, which is not the case with some of my comrades from that time. Time passed, and I stopped dreaming of meeting the unknown. However, the unknown seemed to be looking for a meeting with me.

It was an autumn evening. The sky was frowning in anticipation of a cool rain. The city blossomed with night lights. I was sitting in an ordinary "yellow" minibus. Inside, despite the squalor of the cabin, it was much more comfortable than outside. There were stops along the route, and there were five passengers with me. At the same time, one was sitting next to the driver, the others took their seats in random order. The radio was gurgling muted on some kind of "pop" frequency.

At the next stop, two more people boarded the minibus. They were very strange women — judging by the conversations, mother and daughter. It sounds silly and somehow wild, but there was little feminine in them. Even the clothes gave the opposite impression. There were other oddities in appearance. The eldest was thin and looked exhausted, about 60 years old, although she sounded very young. The younger one looked about 40 years old, very large, with reddish spots on her face. The "old daughter" kept holding her overly frisky mother by the elbow all the time. The minibus had already left the bus stop a long time ago, and the two could not get on in any way. Each time they chose an empty seat, they changed seats. It was even funny at first. But then the "big—faced" one, as I called the strange woman with spots on her face, suddenly started pushing other passengers away - and this with a half-empty cabin! And not just one or two, but everyone she could see. I felt uneasy. Further — more. The guy who was closest to the "big-faced" made a remark to the woman. There was a moment's silence. A goofy smile appeared on the face of the restless aunt, which in a second was replaced by such an animal grin that it gave me goosebumps. How she started yelling at him! And not in one voice, but as if in a chorus, as if three or four people were shouting in different ways at the same time. It was scary. The "old daughter" shrank back into the armchair and looked at her mother hungrily. Passengers jumped up from their seats and tried to calm her down. The driver also tried to participate in this pile-up.

What did I do? I fixed my eyes on the floor and began to whisper "Our Father." The chaos in a single minibus continued. The aunt didn't just scold — she cursed everyone who answered her or tried to pacify her. And laughter—such a scary evil laugh through every phrase. But in the general uproar, I heard a new shout: "Where are you? Where are you? I can't see you! Stop it, bitch! I'll find it! It hurts, bitch!" A chill ran down my spine. I thought only of one thing — not to look into her eyes, I continued to read. "It's hot! Let's go! We're leaving!" — and there was a minibus on the highway, there was still a long way to go to the bus stop. My aunt was banging on the door. I kept shouting, I was saying a prayer. Eventually, the driver turned on the emergency lights and opened the doors with a curse. Strange women ran out into the rain. The "big face" continued to wail and shake like a dog when it shakes off the water after bathing. We drove on calmly.

In addition to the above, I will say that I began to recite the prayer I learned as a child not because I am so religious, but rather on some kind of inspiration. And there was one more detail — while reading, from time to time there was a strange feeling of excessive pride in oneself, as if a nasty little voice was broadcasting in my head.: "You can do anything, that's how good you are, admit it!" And as soon as I paid attention to this feeling, the words of the prayer got confused and confused. Catching myself in time, I stopped being distracted by these obviously extraneous feelings for me and focused on prayer — and the reading went much easier, and the woman just started screaming that she was ill...