Experiment with a mirror

 What I want to tell you happened five years ago. My husband and I were working in Mongolia at the time. There was a tense situation with literature, so any book, newspaper or magazine brought back from vacation was literally passed around. And so in one magazine, I don't remember the name anymore, I came across an article about the magical power of mirrors. At one time, I learned to predict the future of my friends from coffee grounds, but I couldn't look into my own future in this way, I simply couldn't see anything in my cup. And in this article it was said that a mirror can show both the future and the past, depending on what you focus on.

This idea has sunk into my soul. It was just the right time: the children had already left, the husband had gone on a business trip. And then one day on the weekend, when all the business was already over, the sun went down, and I decided to experiment with the mirror. I put a stool in the hall, installed a table mirror on it, and arranged it so that I could see my face completely. She placed two candles on either side of him, lit them, and sat on the floor in front of the mirror. She tried to look at her face in a relaxed manner, avoiding eye contact with her reflection.; as I understand it now, I was looking into the supposed area of the "third eye."

At first, nothing interesting happened. I was already beginning to think that nothing would work out, when suddenly my face began to lose its contours, and I saw myself the same, but much younger. It seemed as if the mirror was flipping through the pages of my life, but not towards the future, but showing me my past. The changes were slow at first, so I could keep track of these visions. The faces of my relatives and children flashed by, and I even saw my first love.

Then something changed, the change of faces began to happen faster; I almost couldn't figure out who I was seeing in front of me, and it seemed that the mirror was darkening. And the faces that appeared in it seemed angry, dissatisfied, sometimes even angry. I felt uneasy somehow - fear enveloped me in sticky threads, and when the evil, distorted face of a completely unfamiliar old woman appeared in the mirror, who looked into my eyes and, as it seemed to me, began to stretch out her hand towards me, my nerves could not stand it, and I abruptly turned away from myself The mirror.

What was that? Did I really see my future, or did I just do something wrong and cause some other entities? I don't know. I didn't even risk putting out the candles right away, so as not to stay in the dark — I blew them out only after I turned on the light in the room. My heart was pounding in my chest, my whole face was covered in sweat, and for a long time after that I couldn't come to my senses. I no longer had the desire to repeat this experience, and my attitude towards mirrors has changed.: I began to look at them rarely, whenever possible in a good mood. I try to clean them more often and I do not advise anyone to conduct such experiments without careful preparation.

Cream

 A birthday is perceived by a birthday boy as a bright holiday only in childhood. Later, it becomes clear that the celebration that is being held does not arise by itself, and you need to put a lot of work and a lot of money into it to get something worthy. Some, however, put a lot of alcohol into it and rush into their new year on wine fumes and without unnecessary mental anguish. For a woman, it's even more deplorable. Firstly, there is a lot of demand from the hostess of the celebration, and secondly, every year she gets further and further away from the coveted youth and beauty.

These were the sad thoughts that plagued Sveta shortly before the holiday. Her friends had already notified her and warned her that they would definitely come to her for the holiday, so that she would not even think about giving an excuse to get together and have a good walk. Sveta was counting the money remaining from her last paycheck, squinting at expensive miracle creams in stores that promised to give her five years of youth, and desperately did not want to spend the remaining funds in one evening.

She was not a stupid woman and understood that she would not be able to get away, which meant that she had to look for benefits in this position. Therefore, she, in turn, a week before the celebration, handed her friend a sheet from a notebook.:

— Here, give it to me for my birthday. I don't need a dozen souvenirs, and you don't have to give me bouquets. Damn it, they won't save me. I know it's not cheap, but if you divide the amount by all of them, then it's fine. You just give the others an idea.

The friend was old and trusted, and she treated the request with due attention and delicacy. That evening, she called everyone else and warned them that she had already chosen a gift, and that all that remained was to raise money for it and buy it. It was necessary — two days later, Lizaveta collected the last installment and went to the store. But the right thing wasn't in it. It's New Year's Eve, and the goods are expensive, but they're all sold out, sorry.

Just in case, Lisa ran around the smaller shops for two more days, then she went around all the basement stalls, but she still didn't find anything. And time passed. The savior, quite by chance, was an unknown woman who witnessed Lisa's conversation with a salesman in another store. Yes, she has just that thing. Yes, unopened. From where? My daughter gave it to me, but it's kind of a pity to spend such a treasure on yourself. It's expensive. So why not sell to someone who really needs it?

So, the gift was presented to the happy birthday girl on time.

In the evening, Sveta unwrapped the bundle and smiled. Yes, that's exactly what she asked for. A wonderful cream packed with useful substances so much that, according to reviews, even decrepit old women turned into young girls. Well, if we put aside the exaggerations, she has gained a couple of years for herself — she can manage to get married. Or just enjoy a little more simple female happiness.

Sveta opened the jar and inhaled the light, slightly sour fragrance. What does it smell like? The fresh scent of gooseberries, mown grass, and something else completely elusive came to mind.

The cream was absorbed into the skin instantly, laying on the cheeks with a delicate silk. Sveta finished the evening sacrament and went to bed, happy and, as it seemed to her, weightless.

After a couple of months, she was unrecognizable — rejuvenated, prettier, it seemed that her skin was glowing and filled with strength and health. Even Sveta's look has changed. There was no shortage of fans now, and Lizaveta, looking at her friend, bought a miracle remedy herself. But the cream didn't suit her. Yes, he's good. Yes, it's high-quality, but no miracle happened to her skin. The cream is like a cream, I shouldn't have overpaid.

Towards summer, Sveta finally decided on the choice of her chosen one, set the wedding date for the middle of summer and immersed herself in the atmosphere of preparation for such an important event. This preparation exhausted her so much that the groom could not stand it and once almost forcibly took the woman out of the city. It's not superfluous for anyone to spend a week in the country — there's fresh air, fruits and vegetables from the garden, and fresh milk, and there's practically no connection — an ideal place to relax.

On the second day of my stay at the cottage, I sighed and scraped out the remnants of the cream from the jar, applied it evenly on my face and went to bed. The groom went on a night fishing trip and promised to arrive home with fresh fish when she woke up. Thinking about these simple joys — the groom and the fish, Sveta fell asleep.

And then, for the first time in years, she had a nightmare. She dreamed that she was standing on top of a hill, the ground was bulging under her feet, and the wind was hot and sticky in her face. The wind seems to be blowing, and the hair is hanging like whips, and it's uncomfortable to look through them. She tries to remove them with her hand, but her hand dries up and turns yellow from the wind right in front of her eyes, and the skin scabs off. She tries to scream and feels her dry tongue scratching the roof of her mouth. And then I saw something like white pearls fall under my feet. He tries to sit down, but the bones do not bend, the muscles dry out. With difficulty, she felt the pearls near her feet, brought them to her eyes and recoiled — her teeth were lying in the palm of her hand.

Sveta screamed pitifully, inhaled the sticky wind and coughed, feeling the thin tissue of her lungs tearing.

She tried to get off the hill, but the rocky ground crumbles under her feet, and the body, eaten away by the disease, is not her helper. Sveta couldn't stay on her feet, rolled head over heels on the hot ground, feeling her body crumble, and... woke up.

I woke up in a panic, tossed around in bed, and started crying. And, feeling tears running down her cheeks, she gradually calmed down, stroked her strong, well-shaped body with her hands, counted her teeth with her tongue, was surprised at her own nightmare, and fell asleep again.

The next evening, remembering about the dream, Sveta did not let the groom go fishing. He has nothing to wander around when the lady of his heart needs moral and physical support. The woman fell asleep that evening, resting in the arms of her beloved man, and it seemed to her that she was protected better than anyone in the world.

It seemed wrong, by the way.

I opened the eyes of the Light on the already familiar hill. The same hot sticky wind, the same hot stones underfoot. This time she did not wait for an illness, but immediately tried to go downstairs, where, as it seemed to her, ordinary life was in full swing.

She managed to take two steps, and then she felt salty blood in her mouth, felt a loose tooth with her tongue and rushed down, not understanding the way.

The dust that rose from this enveloped the woman in a vile cloud, and Sveta felt the acrid dust penetrate deep into her body, drying up her flesh. And the eyes! God, my eyes hurt when they were covered with this dust! It felt like all those cones and rods she'd read about in biology classes were bursting from the inside.

When the dust had eaten away the tissues of her face and reached her brain, Sveta woke up in horror.

The girl was waiting for the next night like torture. She was both afraid and at the same time realized that a dream was a dream, and it was stupid to worry about it. These nightmares are the consequences of the excitement before the wedding, and nothing more. It is necessary to overcome yourself and your worries, then the nightmares will recede. Well, as a last resort, the wedding is just around the corner, and after the celebration everything will settle down.

Once on the hill, Sveta forgot all her evening attempts to calm down and panicked. What to do? You can't go down, you can't fly up, and standing here means slowly falling apart. The familiar and hated sticky wind did not take long to wait, and the woman tried to turn away from it, but it turned out that the wind was omnipresent.

She hid her face behind her hands and, slowly and carefully rearranging her legs, began to descend. Her teeth might fall out, her skin might wither, but maybe she could finally make it to the bottom of the hill alive.

One step, two, three. The lower incisors fell on the tongue like heavy beads. Sveta pushed them behind her cheek with her tongue, not daring to open her mouth, and continued her descent.

The nails were next in line. They peeled off in transparent rounded plates and fell into the dust. The dust did not slow down to bite into the unprotected meat, corroding it and causing severe pain.

Sveta restrained herself with the last of her strength and did not scream, and did not hurry. I remembered yesterday's lesson.

Lower and lower she descended, and her hands withered, her legs went wild, her skin burned, and her hair had long been stuck together and hung in heavy icicles. However, not for long. It took her a moment to realize what kind of dark snake had fallen at her feet, but then she felt a sore bald spot on her head with her fingers and realized that the snake was a lock of her hair.

Most of the descent has already been completed, and you can already see the green grasses below, and the wind blowing from below has picked up a pleasant familiar smell. It could smell like gooseberry berries, freshly cut grass, and honey.

But the closer the cherished valley was, the stranger the fragrance became, turning into a suffocating stench that rolled in waves. Sveta had no strength left, and she sank down on the hot stones and crawled forward on all fours, still hoping to find salvation.

The moment the woman reached the heavy-smelling grass, she saw thousands of insects scurrying everywhere. She moaned, dropped her head into her hands, and the goosebumps did not slow down to bite into her thin skin.

The pain was so intense that Sveta had a second wind. Her tortured body was convulsing, and she was scratching at her cheeks and forehead with her fingers, trying to drive away the insects, and the flesh, no longer protected by her nails, was fraying and melting, exposing the bones. The last thing she felt was the overwhelming pain that spread through her body in waves and drilled into her brain.

At that moment, when Sveta began to tear her face with her own nails, Oleg woke up and tried to hold her beloved. But even his strength was not enough to stop the distraught woman, and he could only cling to her hands as the woman tore off the layers of meat and skin from her face. When she finally stopped and went limp, Oleg was horrified to see in the dark the snow-white bones of the skull, freed from such malleable flesh.

In the currant bushes

 It happened to me 12 years ago, when I was still a child. My cousin Borya came to see me every month. He was older than me and loved to scare me — he put on masks, dressing gowns, even took my mother's fur coat to pretend to be a monster. My heart was in my mouth, and he was still laughing.

One day, as usual, his parents came to our cottage. In the evening, everyone gathered at the table, and we were sent outside to play. The August nights in Yakutia are dark, and my brother and I were playing in the courtyard, illuminated by a bright moon. We played hide-and-seek, and I drove that time. My brother hid well. I searched for him for a long time and suddenly I heard a strange sound in the currant bushes, as if someone sighed heavily and sadly. I immediately realized that it was Borya, as always, who decided to scare me, and shouted:

— Borya, get out, I know you're there!

Borya did respond, but behind my back, in a completely different place. Intrigued, I picked up a stick, walked over to the bush and poked it lightly with the stick. An oval, wrinkled, white-and-yellow face peered out from behind a bush in the moonlight. It looked disgusting: the eye sockets were empty, the mouth was wet, without teeth, the lips were cracked like an old man's. I was terrified. It was so wild and creepy that even after 12 years, the very thought of that creature gives me goosebumps.

When I came to my senses, I ran home as fast as I could, sobbing. Then I walked away from the incident for a long time. My parents decided that it was my brother's work and scolded Borya. But I knew for sure that it wasn't him.

That night, when everyone was asleep, I tossed and turned on the bed for a long time without sleep. Lying in my room, which was on the second floor, I could hear the heavy sighs of that creature under the window.

" Gazelle"

 Last summer, my father asked me to stay in his apartment in new buildings while he was on vacation, so that I could water the flowers, feed the cat, etc. I also brought my dog there with me — there was no one to leave her with either. Well, that's how I lived for a while. Every day I went out with the dog for a walk at about half past eleven. And there was a forest park nearby, so I went there with her.

One day, I was walking with her along the highway that passes by the forest park, and there was a gazelle on the side of the road, where there is no asphalt anymore. It was such an ordinary car that had not started for a very long time — well, such an ordinary snowdrop. The body was rusty in places, the wheels had been punctured for a long time — in short, she was standing there and rotting. I've seen this gazelle before. And today, my dog — he's a dachshund, by the way — saw a cat or a rat there and ran right under the car. I couldn't get her out by the tape measure leash, so I bent down to see what she was doing there. Seeing nothing, I straightened up, and then suddenly noticed a face inside the gazelle. A girl was looking right at me and smiling very cheerfully. Actually, it didn't seem surprising to me, since children often laugh when they see dachshunds — they're funny.

I bent down again and pulled on the dog's leash, and she just growled in response. Then I looked at the girl again, and now it seemed to me that she was not taking her eyes off me at all, and that she was not looking at me cheerfully at all, but rather maliciously. Her black hair was disheveled and, as it seemed to me, her shoulders were not covered with anything. She looked to be about nine years old. And then I saw through the glass of the gazelle how she raised her hand, shook her finger at me and hissed in a rather nasty voice: "BITCH!". Then I kind of froze, but finally I saw that she wasn't smiling at all from the very beginning - she just didn't have lips, they were cut off as if along the contour, and only her teeth stuck out, they even seemed to shine. Turning around, I rushed back, but my dog stopped dead and howled very loudly. I tried to run, but the dog was pulling me back, I had to turn around and pick her up, but I was afraid to turn around. It was creepy. I don't remember how it all turned out, but when I reached the nearest store, I calmed down a little. Then my dog howled all night. Maybe I should have called the cops about this gazelle?

Children's games

 I was 13 years old. My parents sent me and my cousin Anya to our great-grandmother's village. Anya was three years older than me, but that didn't stop us from communicating on equal terms, since at that time we both loved to play "Dandy" and guess. And also, after seeing the training in the movie "Starship Troopers", we developed intuition, alternately showing each other a card in order to "feel" what was depicted on it (only cards with "pictures" were used and only two suits — spades and hearts).

That day, I guessed 28 out of 30 cards, and I was wrong only on the 16th and 30th cards. Anya was very impressed, and we decided to test my intuition in other ways. At first, she hid behind a closet and showed the fingers of one hand. I've never made a mistake out of ten times. Then she stood at the bookshelf and poked at the book bindings with her finger, and I had to blindfoldedly determine what color it was. I was wrong two times out of ten.

Suddenly, a suspicion crept into my thoughts that my sister was deceiving me. After all, how can this be? Then I pulled back the blindfold and started naming the wrong colors, and my sister really said "no, no, no."

Then I closed my eyes again and felt an echo in my head. And I started guessing again.

Anya was delighted, and I was horrified. I told her I was tired, and we sat down to play Dandy. We were playing "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" (fighting against each other), and if usually our forces were equal and the one who made the first combo or super punch won, then this time I just mindlessly pressed the keys and defeated her.

Then the two of us went to cut wood. The saw is manual, long, for two people. We lifted the trunk of a birch tree onto a "goat" and began sawing it into logs, so that grandfather could chop them down later. We loved sawing because we loved the smell of sawdust and the way it sparkled—we fanatically collected it and burned it in a bonfire, pretending we were witches.

When we finished the birch, I discovered that I had rubbed a nasty blister on my thumb. Anya bandaged my finger with a plantain (how can I go without it in the village), and I went to lie down. I fell asleep there.

I woke up to the lowing of a cow returning from the pasture in the yard. My blindfold, a deck of cards on the table, and all sorts of notes with drawings (which I also guessed) reminded me of what happened that day. I jumped up from the couch and ran to look for Anya.

She was in the yard, washing her feet in a basin. When I approached her, she said:

—Wow, were you asleep?"

— Well, yes, something got tired after that, — I waved towards the birch logs by the garage wall.

—Wow, did you file it yourself?"

I almost laughed and showed her my bandaged finger.:

— Yeah, one. Have you already forgotten how we sawed for two hours?

Then Anya dropped the ladle from her hands and looked at me in fright.:

"Are you kidding me?" I've been at Aunt Sasha's all day!

It was my turn to wonder how Aunt Sasha was doing. And the maps, and the books, and the firewood? I briefly told her everything we had done today, but she just turned pale and opened her eyes wider and wider.

There was a pause, which was broken by the same Aunt Sasha who entered our gate.:

— Oh, girls, oh, what beauties you are! And you, Anechka, are really lovely, you helped me so much today!

Waving at us, she went into the house and screamed. We ran to her. My aunt was leaning against the wall, holding her heart. When she saw us, she stared at Anya, started crossing herself and wailing something. And then she collapsed.

The ambulance arrived only two hours later, and my aunt regained consciousness in the hospital the next day. It turned out that she had a heart attack. They did not operate on her, gave her some pills and ordered her to stay in the hospital for ten days. All this time, she forbade Anya and me to come to her.

My sister and I were going crazy. I didn't even want to think about anything mystical, especially after our grandmother said that according to Aunt Sasha we were possessed, and laughed (grandmother, though a believer, was adequate).

Finally, Aunt Sasha was released from the hospital. We bought her favorite halva and went to her house.

She said it was only thanks to the sedatives that she could talk to us now. We sat down to tea, and she said that when she came into the house that day, she saw Anya on the veranda. Only Anya didn't look like herself—her hair was tangled, wet, there were bruises under her eyes, and her skin was gray with some dark spots on her arms and legs. And this Anya put her index finger to her lips, apparently so that Aunt Sasha wouldn't scream. And when we ran in to Aunt's screams, this second Anya just disappeared into thin air.

Halva got in our throats. We quickly said goodbye and left. Anya took my hand and we went home.

After that, we didn't think about it until the end of the summer. And on August 28, Anya was beaten, raped, and pushed into a reed bush. When the evening fishermen found her, she was unconscious, covered in bruises, and her long hair was tangled and wet. I've been to the city before, but people described it that way.

I came to her for the autumn holidays. She did not go to the university, which she entered at the beginning of the summer, because after the incident she could not communicate with the guys for a long time. I just sat at home and watched TV.

We sat at the table with my parents, and then went to her room. And she told me something that makes my blood run cold almost 15 years later: the night she was in the hospital, she had a dream about how we were guessing cards, the colors of books, that she was drawing pictures for me, then we sawed a birch tree, and then she sees Aunt Sasha, coming into the house, remembers that this is the day, and instinctively puts her finger to her lips. And then she woke up.

Yes, I could refer to the fact that she had a dream because I had already told her all this, but there is one "but": Anya told me in great detail about that day, even knew that I had not guessed the book covers several times in a row, and which books they were.. She showed me the place where she had plucked that plantain leaf (under a currant bush, although it grows all over the yard). I didn't tell her such details.

Since then, nothing so strange has happened to me. It happened a couple of times that I heard an echo in my head and stopped abruptly — at the same second, a layer of snow fell from the roof right in front of me, or a gazelle drove along the oncoming lane, which appeared out of nowhere, but it could also be a coincidence.

And Anya is fine now. She already has two children, she is happily married and lives a completely normal life.

Suicide Bridge

 Two friends, Anton and Maxim, lived in a big city and were fond of supernatural phenomena. One day, they were sitting at a computer together on the Internet and found a website where many "urban legends" were collected. They read a story there about a suspension bridge that was located near their city. There were many photos of the bridge and the area around it on the website. It was claimed that this suspension bridge crossing a mountain gorge had become a favorite suicide spot for unknown reasons. Every year, several people threw themselves off the bridge and fell to their deaths. Some people believed that this bridge was cursed and haunted by the ghosts of all those who had once committed suicide there.

Anton offered to go to the bridge right away, but Maxim had a lot to do, and they decided to postpone the visit. Nevertheless, after returning home, Anton decided to go there alone — he really wanted to see the ghosts.

It was almost midnight when Anton approached the bridge. There wasn't a single person around. The atmosphere was ominous, and a chill ran down Anton's spine.

—Wow, it's creepy here," he muttered, cautiously approaching the edge of the bridge to look down. He thought of all those unfortunate people who had rushed into the inky darkness of the gorge. The sight made the hairs on his head stand on end.

Anton was so impressed with the bridge that he decided to call Maxim right now and tell him about it. He took out his mobile phone and dialed his friend's number. However, due to the fact that it was outside the city, the signal was not powerful enough. But when he looked around, he noticed a lone phone booth to the side. He went into the booth, dropped a coin into the phone and called Maxim.

— Hello, Maxim? Guess where I am now! — He said enthusiastically. "I'm on the suspension bridge we read about. The view is amazing! You should come here tomorrow and take a look at it.

—Yes, that would be nice," Max replied. — The place looks creepy even in the photos on the website, and if you look at it yourself… Wait a minute, where are you calling from?

"From a payphone near the bridge,— Anton said casually.

His friend was confused:

"What payphone?" There is no payphone there. Well, at least it wasn't in those photos.…

"What are you talking about?"  Anton was surprised. — There's a payphone here, but I'm standing in it, in a phone booth right at the entrance to the bridge... okay, I'd better go, because there's a whole queue lined up to make a call. We'll call you when I get home.

He was about to put down the phone, but then Max, overshadowed by a bad premonition, shouted:

— no! Anton, don't come out of the booth! There's something wrong! I'll be there in half an hour. No matter what happens, don't leave the booth!

"What's the matter?"  Anton asked, confused.

"Just promise me you won't budge a step." Don't move and don't hang up. I'm on my way!

When his friend hung up, Anton felt a wave of fear wash over him. He stood in the booth and held the phone receiver to his ear. Looking back, he saw a long line of people who were silently watching him. They stood motionless and stared at him in silence, pale, without a single color on their faces.

Half an hour later, Max ran to the bridge and found his friend standing on the very edge of the cliff. He held his mobile phone next to his ear.

There was no phone booth and no people. If his friend had taken even one step, he would have fallen into the gorge and inevitably crashed.

The shadow in the apartment

 My mother and I used to move from house to house a lot, moving around rented apartments, but I remember one of our homes forever. I was about ten years old at the time, and once again we were preparing to move. It was a pity to leave friends and school, which I was just getting used to, but, alas, the move was inevitable — the landlady urgently needed her apartment.

After packing up all my modest belongings, my mother, her boyfriend Ilya and I went to a new place of residence. Do you remember the old two-story wooden houses? That's exactly what we were supposed to move into, on the second floor. There weren't really any neighbors nearby—it was the middle of summer, half had gone on vacation, and the other half were working in their garden beds. So there was peace and grace.

We broke the silence of the house with our noisy entrance. Mom was rattling pots and other utensils, distributing everything in the kitchen. Ilya grumbled and adjusted the TV. I looked around the apartment — an ordinary two-bedroom, with creaking wooden floors, nothing noticeable. Finally, the boxes were sorted, we had a modest dinner and went to bed — mom and Ilya went to the big room, and I went to the small one.

I woke up at night to the creaking of wooden floorboards. The door to my room was open, and I saw a hallway in which someone was clearly walking. I thought it was Mom or Ilya who went to the bathroom, or to drink water. But a minute later, I saw a huge shadow slowly pacing the hallway, the floorboards creaking from this tread. It was monstrously huge and thin, its head touched the ceiling, its long arms reached to its knees, but there were no clear outlines. There was no face, no clothes, just a shadow that walked back and forth. I was sweating profusely and pulled the blanket up to my eyes, watching this and not believing that such a thing could happen.

The shadow wandered down the hallway and headed towards the kitchen, from where, in a matter of seconds, the clink of pots and plates began to be heard. I was shaking under the covers at the time. There was silence, and IT reappeared in the hallway. It was clearly looking at me now. I couldn't even scream—it felt like my throat was being squeezed by my hands. When it took a step into my room, I closed my eyes. I was shaking like an aspen leaf, and I could hear from the creaking of the floorboards that IT was coming to my bed. No, there was no cold, no breathing, just an oppressive heaviness, as if the air was made of cobwebs and could be touched.

I spent the whole night shaking under the covers, falling asleep only in the morning. She didn't tell her mom anything, and who would have believed a small child? And I saw THIS a few more times, but it didn't fit me anymore. I do not know what it was — we moved out after a couple of months, I have never seen anything like it anywhere else.

Not a dog

 One autumn evening, I was returning from my summer cottage to the city. My cottage is located about twenty kilometers from the city, so I had to drive a pretty decent distance. It was dark on the road, so I turned on the high beam. There were no cars on the road, so I accelerated. Maybe he was speeding a little...

When the pale dog jumped out right in front of the car, I didn't have time to slow down and hit it. I stopped the car on the road a little further. I couldn't move for a few seconds. I was shocked. For some reason, I was sure that it was a pet dog, and I would have to tell its owners, who were about to leave the forest surrounding the road, that I had hit their pet.

I got out of the car. There was a dent and scuff marks on the front passenger side. Although the dent was noticeable, I still expected the worst, hitting the dog at such a speed. Then I had a hope that things might not be so bad with the dog. I spotted her a little ahead on the road and headed towards her. The animal was twitching. The closer I got, the more it seemed to regain consciousness. At first, I assumed that it was trying to get up, but then I noticed that something was wrong. The creature's skin—now I saw that it wasn't a dog at all—was hairless, pale, almost gray, and translucent, tightly covering the bones. Besides, this creature was too big for a dog. I didn't see any blood. His limbs were disproportionate and very strange, resembling both canine and human — most of all, I remember the gnarled fingers with large distances between them. It stood up on its hind legs, in this position resembling not a dog, but a monkey as tall as me, and turned in my direction. When his big black eyes stared at me, I took a few hesitant steps back, then ran. Immediately, the creature rushed at me, and I'm sure that if I hadn't managed to escape from it, its jaws would have closed on my neck.

I had never run so fast before, but the creature was not far behind. Finally, I jumped into the car and slammed the door. Then the creature began to pace right in front of the car, at the very edge of the headlights. I started the car, and it violently rushed at the glass on the side. Thank God, the glass held up. I pushed the accelerator pedal to the floor and drove away, squeezing everything out of the car. Because of the darkness, I couldn't see if the creature was chasing me or had long since fallen behind, but I kept glancing nervously at the rearview mirror every minute until I reached the city.

Hands

 It all started with the fact that my light bulb burned out. As usual, I was working at night, staring at my computer monitor with reddened eyes and finishing my fourth cup of coffee, when the light bulb flashed on with a loud crack and went out. At the time, I didn't pay any attention to it, since there were five of them in the chandelier. One more, one less— it doesn't matter. At least that's what I thought at the time.

When the second one burned out about half an hour later, I was a little tense — I wouldn't want to be in total darkness. The fact is that I've had a phobia since childhood — I'm afraid of the dark. No, it's not even like that — she makes me panic, hysterical, in a state close to fainting. I do not know where it came from. For as long as I can remember, I've always had to sleep with a night light. That's why now I went to bed in the early morning, because work allowed.

The third light bulb didn't just burn out, it exploded, as if the mains voltage had jumped fifty volts. However, the computer was working as if nothing had happened. Cursing briefly but colorfully, I took a flashlight out of my desk drawer just in case and went to the kitchen for a broom to remove the shards that littered the floor of the only room in my apartment with a predatory carpet. Then I heard something strange.

The sound came from the front door. Light slaps. It was like someone was tapping the metal with his palm. Armed only with a flashlight and a broom, which I held in my hand like a sword, I followed the sound.

I flipped the light switch in the hallway as usual and peered through the peephole. No one. Only darkness. The very idea of opening the door, and even more so going out there into the pitch darkness of the night entrance, terrified me, so I thought, "Well, no, you won't!" Turned around and headed back when I heard another sound that made a trickle of cold sweat slide down my spine. The distinctive creak of the front door opening. Needless to say, a couple of seconds ago, when I looked through the peephole, it was securely locked with two locks?

The following events occurred almost simultaneously. I turned toward the slowly opening door, shining the flashlight beam through the crack, when the light bulb above my head flashed on and off. I was left in total darkness, which was painfully dispersed in half only by a narrow beam of a flashlight. There was a rustle from somewhere in the darkness of the entrance, and I saw a pale child's hand feeling my door.

Children? At night? In the entrance? I let out a hysterical laugh, almost a sob. One handle was soon joined by the other, slapping the lintel with her palm. Then a third, a fourth… I think I started to lose consciousness when I noticed that all the hands seemed to belong to one creature, and it was looking for something to grab, to pull itself up, to drag its body inside.

Then, already in a daze, I remembered where my phobia came from. I've seen this creature before. A long time ago, in my early childhood, it came to me to play. I remember that at that time, for some reason, I was not at all frightened by these children's hands feeling the pantry door. He had such an insinuating, pleasant voice. A low male baritone voice. I remembered that, being an unintelligent child, even I was happy to help him open the door. And then I think I saw him and almost went crazy. Here, my memory throws me only the blurred outlines of something disgusting in the darkness of the pantry.

It all took a split second as I stood there, shining my useless flashlight somewhere in the darkness. At this point, the coherent memories come to an end. The last thing I remember is falling to the floor with a sharp pain in my chest, crawling to the phone and dialing an ambulance.

I woke up in the hospital. As it turned out — cardiac arrest. I was dead for a little over a minute. I'm lucky I didn't become a vegetable. I would probably have thought that I was imagining everything, but when I asked a reasonable question about how the doctors entered my apartment, I received the answer that the door was wide open.

It found me. After all these years, it finally found my door.

Of course, I didn't tell anyone about it. The last thing I wanted to do was end up in a mental hospital. There are so many doors... and absolutely nowhere to hide.

As soon as I got out of the hospital, I packed my things and ran. I was confusing my tracks like a hare running away from a fox. From city to city, never staying anywhere for more than a day. Finally, I thought I had confused him enough and calmed down.

Now I live far, very far from my hometown and it won't find me here. Isn't that right? Wasn't I finally able to hide? I hope so.

We're going to have a lot of fun.

 Moving to a new city is often not particularly easy, especially for a 12-year-old boy. Usually there are problems with adapting to school, finding new friends. Roma was a little lucky in this regard, as the move fell during the holidays, and it was possible to make friends before starting school. And literally on the first day, luck smiled at him — Roma met a neighbor boy Grisha, his age, they immediately became friends and began to spend a lot of time together. A couple of times Roma invited a new friend to visit him, but for some reason he was shy. He probably thought that Roman's mother would consider him a tomboy and a bully, because from his appearance it seemed so: he often smelled of smoke, and his clothes were constantly burned (Grisha said that he loved to burn bonfires, although he never did it with Roma, he did not even offer). Disheveled hair complemented the image of a dysfunctional child, although Grisha's behavior was an ordinary boy, albeit a little unsociable.

One day, Roma came home very worried, and when his mother asked him what had happened, he replied:

"Mom, it turns out there's an amusement park here. You only pay for admission there and ride on any carousel! Grisha told me about him. And he's... he's...  Roma was panting with excitement. — He invited me there, his mom has already bought us tickets. And he promised to introduce me to his friends. They go there every two weeks. Can I go with them? Please, please, please!

—Well... is the park far from here?"

— No, Grisha says there are several bus stops. Please, Mom, Grisha promised that we would have a lot of fun there. There's even a funny clown there, and I should like him.

— What time are you going to be back?

— The park is open until five, so I'll definitely be home at five thirty, Mom. Can I go?

"Okay, just don't forget to take your phone, I'll call you to check on you."

Mom was glad that Roma had managed to find friends so quickly (it had only been a week since they moved), and that they had a place to have fun. She wasn't too worried, because, according to her son, Grisha had lived here for 7 years and knew the area like the back of his hand, and the fact that he was embarrassed to visit them and get to know each other only reinforced in her mind the image of a well-mannered and modest boy.

In anticipation of a fun day, Roma couldn't sleep for a long time. And even when I fell asleep, I had a dream about having fun with friends on carousels, eating ice cream and cotton candy and laughing at the jokes of a funny clown.

At eleven in the morning, taking his phone and money for travel and ice cream, Roma went to the bus stop, where Grisha was already waiting for him. The bus arrived almost immediately, and the boys set off. Roma actively asked Grisha about the park, but he was not very willing to answer — apparently, he did not want to spoil the surprise, which further fueled his interest. For some reason, some passengers squinted at Roma, which made him speak a little quieter.

About half an hour later, the guys arrived at the place.

"We still have a little way to go," Grisha said.

— Are your friends already there?

— Yes, where else would they be...

Soon they came to the gate, and there were two boys and a girl standing there. Grisha introduced them:

— This is Vika, and this is Styopa and Vadik.

The children carefully studied the new member of their company, which made Roma a little tense, and he decided to defuse the situation.:

— Well, let's go have fun?

—Let's go,— his three new friends replied monotonously.

Strangely enough, the park wasn't very crowded. Grisha explained this by saying that today is a weekday, and a lot of people from suburban villages come here on weekends. Many locals were already tired of the park, and they rarely came here. Roma couldn't understand how an amusement park could get boring.

We've tried almost all the swings and rides. However, there was a slight problem with one of the swings: Roma, deciding to jump off them on the move, could not stand on his feet and fell, hitting his chest quite hard on the ground. Even my T-shirt is torn. Fortunately, there were no other injuries, and the bruised area stopped hurting almost immediately. Quickly forgetting about this incident, Roma invited everyone to ride a roller coaster — he had long dreamed of doing so. But everyone flatly refused, despite Romy's persuasions. I didn't want to ride alone, because it was much more fun with the company.

Overall, Roma expected a lot more fun from the park and his new friends. Grisha now talked more with Stepa, Vadim and Vika, they were kind of depressed and gloomy. And the promised clown was nowhere to be seen.

Having somehow made it to five o'clock, Roma said that it was time to go back, because the park was closing. Grisha replied:

— It won't close.

"How so?"

"It never closes," Vika echoed Grisha.

Roma couldn't understand anything:

— You said that the park closes at five o'clock, and we'll go home.

— Why would the park close if everyone is having a lot of fun here?

— What are you talking about? Go around sulking all day! Is this fun for you?

Grisha came closer and grabbed Roma by the arm. His eyes were lifeless and empty. He said:

— Stay with us. We're going to have a lot of fun. Stay here.…

The others gradually began to connect to Grisha's words.:

— Stay, we'll have a lot of fun.…

In addition to the four of them, other children began to gather around Roma, some with their parents. Everyone was monotonously repeating the same words, forming an ominous hum:

— Stay with us, Roma, we will have a lot of fun. Stay, we'll have a lot of fun.…

Roma jerked his hand away and rushed to the gate. A clown appeared at the gate from nowhere. He was in dirty clothes, the paint on his face was chaotically smeared, his gaze cut right into the depths of the child's soul. He croaked:

"Hey, buddy, don't you like being with us?" It's all so much fun! Stay here!

Roma pushed him aside and ran out the gate. He ran without looking back until he stopped. The bus was already leaving, but the driver saw a running kid in the rearview mirror and stopped. When Roma jumped on the bus, the driver asked:

"What are you doing here at this hour?" I haven't stopped at this stop for about five years. Since the park was closed. Lucky for you, the last bus for today. If I hadn't, I'd have been riding the carousels until morning, huh.

- what? Was the park closed?

— Well, yes, there wasn't even a stop before him.

—But… Why was it closed? When?

— It was closed five years ago, when a tragedy happened on the roller coaster. They collapsed, almost everyone who skated died, and the caretaker was crushed, by the way, my sister's brother-in-law worked there as a caretaker and a clown, too. It's a pity, he was a good guy. All the local newspapers have written about this case yet. It's forgotten now, of course. I don't understand these idiotic carousels, you risk getting yourself killed, and you also pay money for it... and they say all sorts of things about this place. Everything is getting worse. About two weeks ago, a kid from the next house went there and disappeared. His mother was waiting for him, and then she went crazy and hanged herself. You're a kid, you shouldn't be hanging around this park anymore, and it's so late.…

Roma could hardly believe everything he said. He fiddled with his phone in his hands. It's strange that Mom hasn't called yet. I casually looked at the time on my phone. Eleven o'clock?! Only recently, he told "friends" that it was five. He couldn't have run from the park gate to the bus stop for six hours! One thought was spinning in my head now: "Horror, mom must be in a panic!".

And so it was. He was greeted at home by his tearful mother. It turned out that the reason for her concern was not only the late return of her son.

— Mom, I'm sorry, I didn't want to come back late, it's just there in the park.…

"What park?" Do you even know how worried I was?! I've been calling you all day, you haven't been available! At seven o'clock I called the police. When they arrived, I told them that you went to the amusement park with your friend Grisha. They said that the park had not been operating for five years! Then there's Grisha… You said he lives next door. So, the precinct officer assured me that there are no families with children of 12 years old in that entrance now. There lived a family with a son named Grisha, but they moved out after their son, being alone in the apartment, started a fire and died. Roma, do you understand what's going to happen to us now?!

—What... will happen?"  Roma asked in surprise. His mother's last sentence puzzled him.

Mom bent over the boy and kissed him on the head:

"Get ready... there's nothing more for us to do here.

Roma's eyes widened, and her breath caught in horror: a purple stripe stood out clearly on her mother's neck.

"Come on… We're going to have a lot of fun.

Mom went up to Roma and pulled down his T-shirt so that the deep wound could not be seen in the tear. The armature peak, on which he fell from the swing, pierced the boy's chest exactly opposite the heart.