The cemetery incident

 This story was told to me by a friend of mine. She lives in the village. Her father, husband, and many other relatives are buried there, at the local cemetery. And this spring she decided to change the plaque on her father's grave — the old one had completely fallen into disrepair. She didn't want to go to the cemetery alone, so she decided to take her elderly mother with her. She's already over 90 years old, but the cemetery is not far away, and they decided to take a walk.

They hobbled back to their seats. There were no people, even though it was spring — apparently, all the locals were busy in the gardens. They began to nail the sign. We suffered both ways, but it doesn't work out. What can I do? And that's when my friend's mother told me:

— Katya, we won't do anything like that. Ask the guy over there to help us.

Katya looked around — there was no one around, not a single living soul...

"What guy, Mom?" Where do you see him?

— Well, what's that, daughter — the one over there, sitting on a bench across the grave and looking at us... Hey, man! Please help my daughter fix the sign, there's nothing for her...

My friend was a little taken aback. I looked around again very carefully, but I didn't find any men.

"Mom, there's no one here. Who are you asking?

— Yes, over there, by this one!  The old woman pointed to the bench that stood across the grave. — At least he answered, what a boor. Sits... He's got his hands on his knees and he's not responding. Vona, look, get up, go... At least he would say hello — what kind of young people have gone these days, they don't respect old age at all...

My friend was terrified. It was useless to argue with his mother. She dropped the sign, grabbed her mother by the arm and quickly left there.

To nail this sign, Katya then hired a neighbor for a bottle. She doesn't go to the cemetery alone anymore, only accompanied by a company. Her mother, of course, is an elderly woman, and she might just have imagined it. But who knows...

The horror in the house

 I've been feeling creepy being home alone lately. It doesn't matter if the lights are on, if music is playing on the computer, if the TV is on, or if the house is dark and silent. Fear comes in waves, sticky, disgusting, so desperately creepy that you even want to run away from the apartment. I can't explain what exactly causes horror. I just come home from work and my heart shrinks into a ball, I breathe faster, I walk around the house, looking around, as if I'm afraid of someone. My house is consecrated, there are icons. About two years ago, almost the same thing happened, but then I put it all down to the fact that I moved into a new house, they say, stress and all that... It is simply not possible to live with such horror. I come to work without getting enough sleep, with circles under my eyes — in general, the look is still...

After consulting with my parents, I decided to rent an apartment. And that's when the scariest part began. Until the moment the realtor set foot in my house, I had not noticed any supernatural activity in the apartment, but now... By itself, the equipment turns on and off — the computer and the TV, the microwave and the air conditioner also began to "play pranks".

But the worst thing happened one night. I was lying down and reading an e-book, when suddenly someone said my name in my ear: "Ksyusha." He said it so long and mournfully, as if he hadn't said it, but had sung it. I stormed out of the room and ran out onto the stairwell. I stood there for quite a long time. Only when I had completely calmed down did I go back home, turn on the lights everywhere, and went to bed. I got up in the morning exhausted, as if I hadn't slept all night.

This story got a little forgotten, and finally, there was a married couple who wanted to move into the apartment. I have to leave here in two days. Everything would be fine, but tonight history repeated itself. I was reading again, facing the wall, and I heard my name again. It was beyond my strength to turn around; so I fell asleep in fear. When I woke up, I saw that the TV was on, and the lights were on everywhere, even though I hadn't turned anything on.

What could it be? I've spent two more nights in this apartment, but I'm scared to death to go home...

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...

At night at school

 I was born in 1980 and lived in the USSR for 11 years. It was a special time. It was kind of easy. Everyone knew each other, the same people lived in the same apartments for many years (or maybe they still live, dragging the past with them). I remember the old cemetery, where many of the grandmothers and grandfathers I knew from the yard, kindergarten teachers, and school teachers were buried... I lived in Ukraine, in the city of Donetsk, and although I have been living in Moscow for many years, I consider Ukraine to be my home. I go there once a year to see old friends and relatives. It seems that nothing has changed there — the same old neighbors, the same old sellers in the shops left over from the Soviet era. Everyone is already in their 50s and 60s.

What I remember most from my childhood is my school. It was an unforgettable time. I went to a very good school with quite interesting people. My first girlfriend was there, and my first friends were there... I remember the younger grades the most. It was fun; we didn't have phones, set-top boxes, or anything else yet. The fun of modern children is nothing compared to our fun. These walks all day long... It was a great time. But I also had one unpleasant experience there. It was the first and hopefully the last time in my life that I encountered the supernatural. And I still can't forget it...

I was probably in the sixth or seventh grade when I was 12 years old. As always, we walked late with the boys (then everything was lit up and quite safe, the parents let us go). The time was about half past ten in the evening. We sat in the yard and told ghost stories. I had little faith in all this and was not particularly afraid, and youthful maximalism made itself felt, I was not afraid of anything. Well, somehow an argument started between us. There was a school not far from my yard. She was in very poor condition, and the learning conditions were also terrible. The goal was to get into the school from the front door, pass the guard, run to the third floor of the school (there were three in total), open the window and look out of it. At the same time, the school was pitch dark. It was all done just "weakly," and since I really didn't like feeling weak or giving others reason to doubt my courage, I volunteered to go there.

As soon as I agreed to this, I immediately felt my credibility among the guys grow (we had a company of seven people). At the same time, I could also tease others, saying that you are a coward, a weakling, and you are afraid. And this gave me a pleasant feeling of superiority (despite the fact that in the first grades of school I was the victim of severe bullying). And I went to the old school on this wave.

Standing on the veranda near the door, I looked out the window. The watchman was sleeping at his desk, and very soundly. I carefully opened the door and made my way into the lobby. In the prone position, I crawled past the guard, went behind the wall and got to my feet. My friends were already waiting for me in the courtyard near the window. I had to act. I was currently on the ground floor near the director's office. It was very dark, and I didn't have a flashlight with me. I felt my way to the stairs to the second floor. Three minutes later, I was already there. I walked very slowly, because one wrong move and I could fall or stumble, because the darkness was pitch black. I reached the second floor, and ten minutes later I went up to the third floor.

As soon as I stepped onto the third floor, one of my friends screamed from below.: "Run away quickly! Run down!" I felt uneasy. As soon as I started to go down, I heard a scream from the courtyard, from the opposite side (several windows were open). The friend who had just called me back was shouting, "Stop! Don't go anywhere! Stay where you are and don't move!" That's when I wasn't just scared anymore, but, roughly speaking, I pissed myself. It was pretty damn scary. There was another shout from below: "Run faster! I'm here! Don't listen to anyone!" I didn't know what to do, who to trust, or where to run, climb down, or jump out the window. I didn't know where my real friends were, I just stood there and cried.

There was another scream from below: "No one is standing in the courtyard! We're all standing here!" Immediately, the voice of several other guys from our company was heard: "We're all downstairs! Don't go near the window, don't! We're going up!" Suddenly there was a wild roar, and the whole company shouted in unison: "Run!" I screamed hysterically and just ran forward, not looking out the window. I did not go down, I did not listen to both sides, but acted contrary to both sides. Someone was coming up from below. "Don't go near the window! Don't go ahead!" they said from there. At the same time, a shout was heard from the window: "Jump!" I've hit a dead end. They were coming up from below, and I was screaming and crying.

Suddenly I felt the door handle—there was a door at the end of the corridor! I opened it and quickly slammed it behind me. I ended up in some kind of back room. There were steps to the attic and a descent to the basement. Without thinking twice, I climbed into the attic, and through it I climbed onto the roof. And then I almost had a stroke: our whole company was sitting on the roof. I yelled, "Don't come near me!" One of my friends ran up to me and punched me in the shoulder with all his might, hissing, "Shut up! Are you a complete jerk? We climbed up the fire escape here as soon as we heard someone calling you at school." I was surprised: "Wait, but who was standing by the windowSuddenly I felt the door handle—there was a door at the end of the corridor!ned it and quickly slammed it behind me. I ended up in some kind of back room. There were steps to the attic and a descent to the basement. Without thinking twice, I climbed into the attic, and through it I climbed onto the roof. And thenost had a stroke: our whole company was sitting on the roof. I yelled, "Don't come near me!" One of my friends ran up to me and punched me in the shoulder witht night forever.

Lopatinsky forest

My grandfather (everyone just called him Grandpa Shurka) was a driver in an old broken—down car, either a GAZIKA or a UAZ - in general, everyone called this car a goat. The noise and screech from it would have been enough for an entire convoy, but Shurka's grandfather dearly loved his "goat" and strongly resisted its decommissioning. As a child, the greatest pleasure for me was to go somewhere with my grandfather on this very "goat" - for example, to take the mail, or something else. Shurka's grandfather took me with him willingly, telling me all sorts of stories along the way — about hunting, about fishing, about how he drove generals in the army. Listen to me!

One day, my grandfather was going to go, but he didn't invite me with him. I came to him with a grudge — what happened, why without me? It turned out that my grandfather was taking mail to Lopatino, so he didn't take fellow travelers. In the evening, you will have to return through the Lopatinsky forest, and there, as my grandfather put it, "it can be scary." Allegedly, my grandfather is afraid to damage me with those fears. And he was talking about everything so seriously, it's obvious he wasn't joking. I stuck to him — take it and take it. And suddenly he said: "I'll take it!" The only condition is that I hang a cross around my neck on the way bac day, my grandfather was going to go, but he didn't invite me with him. I came to hith a grudge — what happened, why without me? It turned out that myt for now.

Go. The road as a road is the same as all the roads in those places: a winding path between the trees. But Grandpa Shurka could drive! From the very beginning of the journey, I began to pester my grandfather: "Tell me, what kind of fears are there?" And my grandfather started telling me a story. However, sparing my childish ears, he omitted many details, but the essence was clear enough. Many years ago, somewhere near Lopatino, there lived a lady who was a natural witch who knew evil spirits. I can't count how many people I've lived with. She didn't do magic, but she harassed the peasants with her machinations as best she could. And she was rich, she had a lot of serfs — there was a place to turn around. And what was worse, she was having all the fun she wanted, which was getting more and more indecent. For example, he will gather young women, tell them to strip naked, and put a bag on their heads. And then he calls their husbands and grooms and tells them, without touching the women, to recognize their wife or bride in this form. I found out — get a woman and go home, and if someone made a mistake... Unidentified women were given away for the amusement of household slaves, or the lady took them to "make mistakes" with her. And be kind enough to part with it, otherwise you will get to the master's dogs, "for sin" with trained women.

As soon as such cases became known in St. Petersburg, a whole commission went to Lopatino. But she was too late — there was outrage among the people, the sadistic lady was taken to a remote forest and tied naked to a tree - not to move. Either the wolves will tear her apart, or she will starve to death. The commission, of course, went to that forest and found only scraps of rope. The lady disappeared: either she untied the ropes with her teeth and nails, or the devil helped. But since then, there has been a legend about a scary naked woman who attacks passers-by near the Lopatinsky forest and shouts: "Give me something! Give me a drink!" — eats unwary travelers and drinks their blood.

The story seemed interesting to me, but too old, because, judging by my grandfather's story, two hundred years have passed since then. In Lopatino, Shurka's grandfather handed over the mail, and we drove back. It was just getting dark, everything was calm, and suddenly Shurka's grandfather, who had been silent earlier, commanded: "Cross your neck!". I really didn't want to put on the cross, I was stubborn — and suddenly at that moment I heard a scream or a howl. The words were mostly unintelligible, but I could make out one thing clearly: "Give it to me!" I immediately put the cross around my neck, and immediately there was a noise from behind. I turned around and realized that the expression "hair stood on end" was not an exaggeration at all. Running behind the car was a naked woman, very thin, like a skeleton covered in skin. She was right next to us, banging on our rear window with her hand and shouting something all the time. I couldn't make out the words because of the goat's howl. Grandfather stepped on the gas, the car picked up speed, and the woman began to lag behind. "It's okay," my grandfather told me, "as long as we have a cross on us, she won't dare come near us." I was half dead with fear. We sat there in silence all the way until we got home. Grandfather, apparently, was used to such meetings: he behaved cheerfully and even looked slyly in my direction, and that night I had terrible nightmares.

However, I didn't stop loving trips with Grandpa Shurka because of this terrible hike. I accompanied him on the goat many more times, but I never went to Lopatinsky forest.

On the river

 My friends and I go out into nature every summer. You know, go fishing, sit around a campfire, sing soulful songs with a guitar. Usually, our mutual friend finds a good place away from civilization every time, and we go there for a couple of days. The company, of course, is purely male. Last summer, we did not break the tradition and this time we went to the Chusovaya River.

After a while, after driving along bumpy roads for a considerable number of kilometers, we found ourselves on the spot. Our small group is located on a picturesque riverbank. While we were setting up tents, building a campfire and cooking dinner, the sun began to sink below the horizon. There were several hours left before dark, and I decided to walk along the riverbank, fishing.

It took about an hour, and there were already several groupers and porcupines in my cage. Being already at a decent distance from our camp, I went back. When we were about ten minutes away from our destination, I stopped when I saw the "object" on the other side of the river (the river was about twenty meters wide, and since it was nine o'clock in the evening, I could calmly contemplate what was happening on the other side). This "object" was looking for something in a thicket of bushes. At first it seemed to me that this was an ordinary person, maybe a fisherman. "How's the catch?" The man stood up to his full height and turned in my direction, and at the same moment my hair stood on end and goosebumps ran through my body — the "man" turned out to be over two meters tall and without clothes, which, however, was completely compensated by his hairline, which I foolishly mistook for a wardrobe item. I didn't have time to see the face, as the creature hurried to hide in the forest. I ran as fast as I could to our camp, where I immediately told my friends everything. And what do you think — they didn't believe me!.. Before going to bed, I began to wonder myself that I had imagined it. So I fell asleep with almost absolute certainty that it was some kind of strange fisherman.

That night, I suddenly woke up because of a nightmare. A sharp, unpleasant, animal smell immediately hit my nose. Literally half a meter from my feet, "he" was sitting at the entrance to the tent...

Of course, I got scared and started yelling, while simultaneously throwing everything in the tent at him. The creature clearly did not expect multiple rocket fire from dishes, glass bottles and shoes, so it got up and quickly ran away from the tent. At my shout, the others jumped out of the other tents. This time, in addition to my story, they saw the destruction that the monster had caused. We did not sleep for the next few hours, but only rekindled the fire and looked in all directions.

About an hour later, or maybe less, a terrible roar was heard from the direction of the forest, which I cannot describe in words. After that, everything went quiet. In the morning, while we were packing tents, one of my friends decided to look around and literally half an hour later he came to us with a small lump of black wool. We wanted to keep it, but he, a superstitious man, threw it into a dying bonfire. After packing up, we got into our cars and headed home.

On the way home

 That was about seven years ago. We came to the village for the May holidays — my husband and I were invited by our friends to barbecue. We had a barbecue on the riverbank, and, of course, we had a few drinks. To clarify, the river flows along the village. We rested on the shore behind the church. It was turned into a storage room in Soviet times, but now it has been partially restored, and it is already working.

When it started to get dark, no one wanted to leave, and we all went to a local club for a disco, which was located opposite the church. One couple in the club attracted my attention, there was a very tall girl and with her a gentleman who barely reached her shoulder height. By midnight, my husband and I went home, saying goodbye to everyone.

It takes about twenty minutes to walk from the church to our house. The road is wide, there is practically no lighting, but you can still distinguish it, since there are lampposts on the side of the road that illuminate the way through three or four idle lanterns. We walked in a cheerful mood. We were already well away from the club, and then we noticed someone trying to catch up with us - a quick click, as if from heels, was approaching us from behind. I wouldn't have noticed it myself—well, someone's in a hurry, what's it to me?.. But my husband doesn't like it when someone walks behind him, especially in the dark (probably, his long-term service in the internal organs affects). He suggested that they turn off the road to the side of the road and let the man who was catching up go ahead. We turned left — there was an abandoned house just across the street from us (there used to be a post office there). We were standing, waiting for the man to pass by, but what we saw amazed us. Something tall caught up with us, dragging its legs or something else (we couldn't see it in detail). It turned into that abandoned house. I tried to give a logical explanation for what had happened, saying that it was probably that girl from the club who dragged her boyfriend to an abandoned house to make love. Her husband nodded, "Probably. Okay, let's go home." But we both knew that we had seen something different, we were just afraid to admit it to ourselves. They walked on at a brisk pace and in silence. Then the same clatter came from behind us again, quickly catching up with us. There were only three buildings left to go to our house... I cannot describe the feeling of horror that I experienced when two adults and quite sane people flew into the light of a street lamp like frightened children. I stood behind my husband and snuggled up to him. Something was approaching along the road, but its outlines were blurry — or maybe this effect was due to the poor illumination of the lantern? My husband, who is always sane and rational, was confused then. He had a gold cross on a chain around his neck, he took it out, kissed it, and could only say, "Holy, holy, holy..." Before our eyes, this creature seemed to disappear into thin air, and it was gone. How we rushed home...

So we still don't know what we encountered that night in the village.

Hands

 Surely many of you know the "joke" when, with the help of various manipulations, a person's hands begin to rise up for no reason. So, a couple of years ago in the summer, my friends and I came to visit a girl named Katya. While we were listening to music, someone started talking about magic tricks. Cards, coins, cups and marbles were used — in general, everything that was found in the apartment.

And then Katya remembered about the "hands". She decided to show the others her skills as a magician on me. I stood against the wall with my whole body, loosely pressed against it, and closed my eyes. Katya began to perform actions that are essentially meaningless, they are needed only in order to give the impression of a "mysterious ritual." She did the following: taking my hands, she crossed them four times (like a scissor exercise) and snapped her fingers four times alternately, first near my left ear, then near my right. Then she placed her palm vertically in front of my mouth, and exhaled on it once. All of the above was repeated three times, while I breathed into Katya's palm two and then three times. Then she said something like, "May those who died from your family raise their hands to you," and began making "passes" with her hands.

As usually happens during this "trick," auto-suggestion kicked in, and my hands began to reach up on their own. Katya moved back, and my hands were slowly but surely rising and were already positioned almost parallel to the floor. Then I abruptly opened my eyes, because there was a feeling that someone had slightly squeezed my wrists, and after a couple of seconds these places began to burn a little. But there was no one there. Everyone was sitting on the couch a couple of meters away and looked at me in surprise, as the expression on my face at that moment clearly showed everyone that something had gone wrong. Katka's cat, Timka, first quickly ran behind the sofa, and then flew out of the room like a bullet. And then there was a crack above my head: the glass of the picture frame under which I was standing burst. I jumped aside with a scream. The guys laughed a little nervously, and we left the room to go outside.

Only later, when I looked at my hands, did I really get scared: there were reddish marks from three fingers on my wrists...

Sentry

 My father served in the special forces, he transported nuclear warheads — of course, in special containers. Part of it was located in a hilly area. There were security posts at a distance from the unit: a booth surrounded by a fence, large iron gates, and a small mesh fence with barbed wire at the top. The booth had lighting, a table, a chair, a duty log, and a telephone with communication with headquarters. There was a window directly opposite the door. There were such posts every 2 to 5 kilometers: one on a hill, another in a hollow, etc. My father told me:

"It was winter. It's my turn to be on duty. I was taken to the checkpoint in the morning, and until late at night I was outside, guarding the facility with a machine gun at the ready. I made a log entry every half hour and reported to headquarters.

The last half hour has gone by. I went outside, stood, and smoked. And I see that someone is moving towards my post - everything is visible through the grid. I look — a woman is walking in a white shirt, her hair is white and she is pale as paper... And he goes barefoot. I fell into a stupor of surprise. Just then, a car came for me and illuminated the place with its headlights — no one... Okay, I thought, I imagined it. I opened the gate, let the car in, made a recording and drove to the barracks. I was replaced by a Georgian, my fellow soldier — our beds were nearby, we communicated well with him.

I arrived at the unit, undressed, and went to bed. At three o'clock in the morning they wake me up: "Gena, wake up! Pack up, go to the post, and stay on duty. Then we won't touch you for a day. Your partner got sick." Well, I'm always happy for a friend, and an order is an order. I got up and got dressed. And they took her to the Georgian's barracks, put her on a bed, but there was no face on him. He looked at me and said, "Gena, there's a white woman there!" That's when I was stunned, so I wasn't imagining it...

But what can you do here — you have to go. I arrived at the post. Everything went smoothly. Towards morning (it gets late in winter), when it was almost time to change shifts, I started peering into the distance again with a cigarette in my mouth. And he saw her again. Walking barefoot in the snow, all white... I told her, "Stop, I'm going to shoot!" But she doesn't seem to hear. I went up to the gate and started walking around it, as if looking for a loophole, probing with my hands. I just stood there. Once she makes a circle, I move my legs like a spinning top and keep an eye on her. Two laps, three... I felt the hair stand on end under my hat. She had just gone through the gate on the fifth lap when the car arrived. They barely brought me out of my stupor.

I only found out later that there had been military operations there before. Maybe it's a ghost, or maybe it's some kind of natural spirit..."

Witch

 This story happened in February 2009. I have been studying singing canaries for five years now. In order for a bird to have a beautiful, choreographed song, it needs good "teachers" — canaries with a choreographed song, as well as forest birds, robins, buntings, nightingales and great Moscow tits. One frosty day in February, I went to the nearest small forest to catch chickadees. I only had to catch two birds. I took my faithful Labrador named Lord as a companion. The road to the forest passed through a small village.

I let the dog off the leash and walked down the main street. In the distance, I saw an old woman with a bucket at the pump. My dog suddenly growled and ran barking in her direction. How I regretted that I had made the mistake of letting her off the leash!.. The woman, frightened, screamed all over the street. I quickly ran over and grabbed the Labrador by the collar. I immediately tried to apologize, but the old woman, grinning unkindly, spat in my face, then grabbed the snow and threw it at us like a dog, saying something like that this was our last way. The lord whined loudly and backed away. After saying a few harsh words to her, I moved on, not giving the incident much importance. It was about 10 a.m. on the clock.

As soon as we entered the forest with the dog, a strong wind blew — it seemed to me that a real hurricane had begun. Broken branches flew from the trees to the ground, they scratched my face hard, and the dog howled loudly. Deciding not to push my luck (and even in this weather it's unlikely you'll catch a bird), I started to get out of the forest. There was no limit to my surprise when I realized that I was in a place unknown to me. I knew this forest like the back of my hand — you can go through it all in half an hour at most. But the area seemed completely unfamiliar to me. The dog, already with its tail between its legs, was whining softly.

The wind was rising, and it was snowing heavily. For some reason, I was seized with wild horror — it seemed to me that there was something terrible and huge behind my back, ready to kill me at any moment. I've never been particularly impressionable, but what was going on inside me at that moment defies description. I thought of that old woman at the well, and I was even more terrified. I started screaming like a madman, but no one responded to my screams. For some reason, it began to darken sharply, although the clock showed exactly noon. I had no strength left at all — it seemed that someone had pulled them out of me. It was obvious that the dog was also completely depressed.

I didn't even notice how we finally got out of the woods. The weather was calm, there was no wind, it wasn't snowing, but it was either late evening or night. The clock was still showing 12 o'clock.

I started walking with the dog towards the house. As soon as we approached the village, the Labrador started whining again. This continued until we passed the village, fortunately, without meeting anyone. The streets of the city were deserted. When I got to the night stand, I asked the saleswoman what time it was. She replied that it was one thirty in the morning. I broke out in a cold sweat when I found out that I had been in the forest for more than half a day. It seemed to me that no more than two hours had passed...

When I returned home, I calmed my worried wife and went to bed, deciding not to tell her the truth about the story that had happened to me.

After that incident, I don't go to that forest, and no matter what happens, I won't set foot in that village. For some reason, I'm sure that the culprit was that unfortunate old woman.

The imp

 It happened a couple of years ago. I was returning home from a concert, it was a little chilly, but not windy, the moon was shining — the perfect weather for returning home after a good event. There were no minibuses anymore, and I didn't want to spend money on taxis, so I walked. Halfway there, I thought it would be nice to grab a couple of cans of beer. The only kiosk was in a vacant lot right next to my house. There were, of course, doubts — it was midnight, the area was not particularly crowded, and at that time local gangsters often gathered near such stalls. I didn't want to see them at all.

After walking a couple of meters and seeing the stall, I realized that I wouldn't have to see it. It was deserted both in front of the kiosk and on the site near it. Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned around. A child was walking to my right. Well, how can I describe it?.. Hat, jacket. His shoes, which were too big for him, stood out in the dark. But what's the big deal, exactly? Many of them took care of their elders. But what was he doing here at such a late hour? Maybe a street kid?..

While I was thinking, the kid was already in front of me. The lantern illuminated him, and everything became clear to me: some kind of light green sweatpants, a huge jacket, a "cockerel" hat... It's like a homeless man, so it means their parking lot is nearby — maybe the elders sent for vodka...

But no, he did not knock on the window, but only quickly walked around the kiosk twice. That made me smile. Then the boy moved into the shade and sat down on the asphalt. I bought a beer and headed towards the house.

Already approaching the entrance, I heard footsteps coming from behind, running. Someone small was running. Yeah, so something's going to happen now... I turned around abruptly and prepared to "punch" the little bully, but no, he ran past me. The sleeves of the jacket fluttered in a funny way.

Suddenly, he stumbled and fell. I was surprised by the sound of the fall, as if a bag of cement had been dropped, but not a meter—tall child.

The kid didn't get up. Flashing my cell phone, I went up to him and called out:

"Kid, how are you?"

In response, he made a completely incomprehensible sound, similar to a cat meowing.:

— Mo-I-oh-oh-yo-oh!

Standing half a meter away from him, I turned on the flashlight on my phone (instead of the screen), and my stomach turned cold.

My clothes were lying in front of me: rolled-up trousers, a jacket, boots, one of which had a pant leg tucked in, and the other was standing on the road. I looked around, and suddenly I was very scared. I saw that to my left, just a meter away from me, there was a tall black silhouette, too thin for a human, and immediately I felt something that was completely out of place — an electric shock. And not with the whole body, but only at the tips of your fingers. I took off running. He calmed down only when he bolted the door of his apartment from the inside.

Who knows, maybe even now this "imp" is running around at night.…

The terrible story of my brother

 I woke up in the middle of the night. I was very thirsty. Half asleep, I went into the kitchen and automatically filled a glass with water...

"What are you doing?"  My younger brother's voice made me jump on the spot.

—You idiot! I spilled the water because of you!  I scolded Sasha in a loud whisper.

— Let's play?

"Are you completely out of your mind?" It's three o'clock in the morning...  I looked back at my brother.

Something about him scared me—either his strange behavior, or the fact that he was smiling broadly, too broadly, and without blinking, he was looking at me.

— Go to sleep already...

I yawned, stretched, and went to my room. As soon as I entered the room, I broke out in a cold sweat. In a panic, I crawled under the covers. It became hard to breathe, but I didn't want to go back to the kitchen.

I heard him wandering around there. Such quiet baby steps.

It took me a moment to remember that my brother had died three days ago...

Blizzard

 I want to tell you a story that happened to me and my colleagues one stormy winter night. At that time, I was working as an UAZ ambulance driver. One day in December, Gena, a paramedic, and Vika, a young intern, had to go on an urgent call to a remote village.

The snow was falling in a wall, the frost was about twenty degrees, plus a strong icy wind. I struggled to drive the car along the icy road, gradually coming to the conclusion that everything bad that could happen to us had already happened. My replacement had a habit of stealing anything that wasn't lying well (as well as running, sitting, or moving). Therefore, the front axle of the car was broken (the parts were permanently stolen by my cunning partner), the low beam was not on, and instead of new studded rubber on the rear wheels there were two old "bald" cylinders. In short, driving in such conditions was like a very extreme rally.

After some time, the paramedic asked me to stop for a moment and fell out into the blizzard on his own. Soon he stumbled back into the car, and I drove forward... and I almost had a heart attack when a disheveled, red-haired, completely unfamiliar head poked out of the salon to me with a question.:

"Are we going to leave the paramedic there?"

I slammed on the brakes and asked the unexpected passenger, stunned.:

— And who are you, anyway?

It turned out that while Gena was minding his own business, this guy approached him and asked him to take him to the village, where we were heading. After that, the guy got into the car, and I, mistaking him for Gena, stepped on the gas...

Meanwhile, the real Gena appeared out of the snowstorm, indicating with gestures from the street what he would like to do to me. We moved on cautiously. The unexpected traveling companion called himself Peter. Suddenly, he grabbed my sleeve.:

— Guys, slow down! Igor is there!

Out of the snowstorm, right in front of the nose of our UAZ truck, a short silhouette in earflaps appeared on the road.

To say that I didn't like this situation is too weak. Not only did one appear out of nowhere in the middle of a snowy field, but now the second one has appeared! Moreover, it was impossible to notice him from afar in such a snowstorm, but Petya knew exactly where his friend was even before I flashed my headlights on him.

— Guys, how did you end up here? — I asked them a completely logical question from Gene. In response, both travelers said nothing.

We drove very slowly and carefully. Both men sat quietly, looking down at their feet. The blizzard was raging more and more. I turned on the powerful searchlight on the roof and the emergency light, and only managed to slam on the brakes with swearing. It was a miracle that our car didn't get blown into a ditch by the side of the road.

There was a man standing on the road with his back to us. I got out of the car, sincerely wanting to smash the face of the man standing in the middle of the road. But then I saw his face... It was a mess—swollen eyes surrounded by huge bruises, a nose turned to one side, half of his teeth knocked out, a trickle of blood trickling from his mouth...

"Who are you?" - he asked.

—The ambulance!" We're going to Ilyichevo! — the paramedic shouted to him as he got out of the warm interior of the "loaf".

And then the stranger was transformed — the broken face became whole again, a joyful smile lit up his face. He shouted something unintelligible and ran away from us, into the darkness and snow.

Gena shrugged his shoulders, returned to the car and, addressing our strange companions, asked:

"You don't know him?"

And suddenly he turned to me sharply.:

"Where are they?"

I poked my head into the salon. There was no sign of our fellow travelers. Vika, who was watching us and the strange man on the road from the salon, also did not notice how they disappeared. The back door is tightly locked, and no one came out of the side except Gena...

But then we had no time for our mysterious passengers — people with kerosene lamps appeared ahead. They escorted us to the house, near which there was a wrecked car. People clung to Gena and, shouting: "Hurry up, he's still alive!", almost dragged him into the house by force. Vika and I followed.

It turned out the following. About three or four hours ago, three friends were driving back to the village. The driver was not very experienced, this damn blizzard started, and as a result, the car flew into a tree at high speed. Two died on the spot, and the third passenger fell into a coma.

And then I involuntarily looked at the face of the surviving passenger... It was smashed into solid meat, but it seemed strangely familiar to me.

While Gena and the local doctor were working magic on the victim, I went into the next room, from where I could hear quiet crying. Three women were sitting there in the dim light of the kerosene trucks, and the bodies of the dead lay on the beds. I looked at the faces of the corpses. To the left, closer to the window, was the red-haired, bearded Petya, who got into our car first. On the bed next to him, with nickels in his eyes, lay his friend Igor...

Vika and I went out into the courtyard. It was about one o'clock in the morning, and only two or three lanterns were lit in the entire village. There was a deathly silence in the village, even the village dogs did not bark. Strangely enough, we didn't feel any fear.

The door creaked softly behind him. I turned around and saw three vague silhouettes disappearing into the night silence.

A minute later, a woman's sobs were heard in the house with renewed vigor. Gena, with a tired and haggard face, came out to us and lit a cigarette.

"He died," he answered our silent question.—Injuries that are almost incompatible with life. In the hospital, in the city, maybe they would have saved me. And here...

We drove back in silence. When we returned to our home station, no one asked much about anything. And, of course, we didn't talk about it either — who would believe that?..

Only now, after that night shift, an icon appeared in our car.

And to my partner, who tried to steal it, I broke two fingers..

Ghost

 I live in a brick five-story building built about 50 years ago. And all the time we've been living here, strange things have been happening in our apartment.

When I was about two years old, my mother met our "neighbor" for the first time. My older sister Katya (she was 8 years old at the time) got out of the tub and, without even removing the towel from her hair, went to sleep in a small room. And my mother lay down on the couch in the hall with me. Our cat Kefir fell silent at our feet. I was fidgeting and moody all night, as my mother later told me: "Something was keeping you awake." Around two o'clock in the morning, she woke up from a strange alarm, looked around and saw a little girl with a long black braid. The girl stopped for a second near our sofa and went to the bathroom. The mother then thought it was Katya. But the next morning, when she went into her room to get a change of pants for me, she noticed that Katya's hair was still wrapped in a towel—she hadn't taken it off since the evening...

When I was 9 years old, my cousin Olya and her daughter Ksusha came to us for a week. Olya, citing the inconvenience of the sofa, went to sleep in a small room, now mine. She would always remember the night she spent there. Before going to bed, little Ksyusha giggled, playing with someone invisible. She would cover her eyes with her hands, take them away, and say, "Peek-a-boo!" Olya told me: "Of course, I did not immediately react to this — Ksyu is small, she entertains herself. But after she fell asleep, fear came over me from nowhere. I hugged Xia and turned with her to face the wall. About half an hour later, there was a knock right above my head. I was startled. I convinced myself that it was my imagination, but I didn't have time to close my eyes again, as the knock was repeated right above my head, on the table next to the bed." I already remember what happened next: I woke up in the hall from Olya's wild scream, she ran out of my room screaming: "I'm not going to sleep there! There's definitely someone there!"

And my own encounter with this "girl" happened not so long ago. It was like in a horror movie.: I wake up in the middle of the night, and she's standing next to my bookcase. She was looking at the books. I've read so much about ghosts, and I can tell you so many stories, but when I was confronted with a supernatural phenomenon myself, I became numb and fell into a stupor. About a minute passed, and the girl disappeared by herself, as if she had never existed...

In recent years, unexplained cases in the apartment have been multiplying. Rustles, quiet voices at night... Recently, in front of everyone's eyes, a rose from a vase of flowers rose into the air and fell on the carpet in front of the TV. Rings, earrings, and jewelry often disappear. But over time, everything comes back, it is found in the most visible place.

She's not doing anything wrong to us, girl. We've already gotten used to it.

Swimming pool. Part 1

 I have a passion for climbing all kinds of abandoned places, especially old Soviet infrastructure elements. I visited almost everything in my city that I could visit. I even went to Pripyat with the same "crazy ones" (there is a photo of me standing against the backdrop of that very amusement park, I am very proud of it). But the real fear caught up with me not in the ghost town, but where my passion for stalking began - on the land of my relatives, in a village near Kharkov. My aunt married a Ukrainian man. He had an apartment in the city and a house in the village where his mother lived. Every summer, my parents took my sister and me to a sunny village to Baba Tanya. There I met my friend Denis (he got me hooked on stalking). Denis and I explored all the local bomb shelters and basements, and once we even took away a bunch of gas masks from some basement.

About a month ago, Denis wrote to me that enthusiasts had discovered a protected pioneer camp from the time of Brezhnev, untouched by civilization, near their city. Naturally, I was all fired up, bought a hospital certificate from a doctor and went to Kharkov. I'll leave out the details of the trip, and in the end, Denis and I are already standing at the entrance to the complex. A gym invaded by fungus and ruin, an empty swimming pool lined with broken tiles with black mold, school classrooms with dilapidated blackboards and portraits of Lenin, broken windows, notebooks scattered along the corridors — how I love all this... I took a bunch of great photos that day.

My favorite moment in stalking is when I pick the basement lock and dig through all sorts of drawers (once I found a box with an AKM—74 in one factory; I kept one Kalash for myself, the rest was sold). It all started when Denis and I were sawing the lock into the basement with a circular saw the next day. I do not know what they thought in the past, when they left piles of army first—aid kits with very interesting contents in the pioneer camps — in general, I collected a whole bag of drugs, and then I wanted to take a last picture in the destroyed pool against the background of the poster "Communism is the youth of the world, and it should be built young!" I've remembered this phrase for the rest of my life).

When I opened the shabby blue door, I saw the corpse of a naked girl hanging over the pool against the background of that poster. I was scared, but I didn't panic (stalkers often deal with the corpses of homeless people or victims of banditry). We got closer, and then it started. There was a metal collar around the girl's throat, which was attached to a chain. The chain was attached to a hook for a spotlight. All this was done at the height of the fourth floor. Nothing was hanging there yesterday. I just can't imagine how it got there — how could you climb to the 4th floor of the gym without the help of a huge ladder and hang yourself from a long heavy black chain, hanging it on a hook, where the spotlight was yesterday? At that moment, it hadn't sunk in yet, so I decided to take a picture of this girl against the background of the poster. She was young (no more than 20 years old), well-built with hair the color of tar. I took my camera out of my pocket and was about to take a picture when the chain snapped.

The corpse fell to the tile, making a nasty sound in which bones could be heard cracking. You can't imagine how terrified I was. Before, Denis stood and timidly looked at the suspended corpse, but now he just began to cry. And I—I don't even know what came over me-I decided to get closer to the girl. The broken body was lying at the bottom of the pool. The girl's face was beautiful and correct, I even felt sorry that she decided to hang herself. I looked at her for a couple of seconds, and it seemed to me that she wiggled the tip of her toe. Seeing this, Denis squatted down and sobbed even harder. I ran to the door and tried the handle, but it wouldn't open! Turning around, I saw the corpse get up and approach Denis. He stopped crying. I started shouting at him, but he didn't even turn around. They stood face to face. I called Denis again, but again he did not respond. The absurdity of the situation was simply maddening.

Swimming pool. Part 2

Then I understood everything. It was all a stupid prank to scare me! I breathed out a sigh of relief and shouted, "Come on, I almost died of fright! How did you do that?" Denis said nothing, slowly straightening the corpse's disheveled hair (I thought he was going to kiss her) and told her: "You're unique." He said it in such a detached voice that I immediately realized I had to run away, to hell with him, with a friend. I decided to climb out through the broken window of the second floor — I rushed to the window, threw my bag into it and began jumping up to climb myself. I couldn't do that. It was so scary, I even thought I was going to wet myself. Then I heard the sound of bare feet approaching, and I couldn't help but turn around...

The corpse was coming towards me. And it immediately became clear to me that it wasn't even a person. The girl's face no longer looked cute, it was distorted in a monstrous grimace (the girl's dead eyes were particularly terrifying). It tilted its head slightly to the side, as if studying me with curiosity. The last straw was Denis's phrase, said in the same sepulchral voice: "Don't be afraid of her, she's good. She wants to be friends." Then it dawned on me that I could climb through the window using the Swedish wall. I climbed the wall, jumped, and clung to the window frame with my hands, severely cutting my right palm on the protruding glass. Blood splashed out in a warm stream. Somehow I climbed over, jumped off, and broke my chin during the fall. I picked up my bag and ran to my bike.

Baba Tanya was shocked when I, covered in blood, began to cry hysterically, hugging her. After calming down a little, I asked my grandmother to anonymously call the police to the pioneer camp so that they would find Denis, and I decided to go home immediately. Without packing, taking only a bag of drugs, I asked a friend to give me a ride to the city for a hundred dollars. There I boarded an electric train, then a train, and for two days now I have been at home (you can understand how I was allowed to pass at the border with such luggage).

I wonder if the police found Denis by the pool? And is he still alive?..

Mermaid

 This story was told to me by my grandfather Ivan. He was a stern man, had been through the war, and was not interested in writing.

It happened in Ukraine, in the Poltava region. After the war, my grandfather got a job as a postman, and he worked as one until retirement. He traveled through the territory entrusted to him in a cart pulled by an old gelding. He usually returned at dusk, but on the day he arrived from the post office, his head hurt badly, he lay down, and slept almost until evening. It's getting late, but the mail needs to be delivered. I had to harness the horse.

I was coming back, and the moon was already shining. Part of the road ran along the lake, and in one place there were bridges where the men were fishing. And grandfather noticed a woman with long hair sitting on the catwalk with her back to him. Her hair was long, covering almost her entire back, and her lower body was lowered into the water. Well, he sits and sits, but this woman was crying so much that she wanted to howl herself. Grandfather began to fasten the reins to a special handle in order to get off the cart to find out what had happened, but the old horse, which had never run in his life, carried Ivan so much that he almost fell off.

The grandfather turned back to the woman and saw, and she turned around. He froze — he wasn't a man, but something incomprehensible: his face was angry, grinning, his hair was long and tangled, he was naked to the waist, and what was below was writhing so that the water around him was bubbling like a geyser. She rushed under the water and the water began to ripple in his direction. And the horse doesn't need to be prodded — he jumps and bucks all the time, as if someone is biting him...

My grandfather used to say that in the war, when he cleared the rails, he wasn't as afraid as he was that night. And he kept repeating: "So now believe the fairy tales that mermaids are beautiful!".