The Dead House

 The story I want to tell happened to a family I know in 2007. I lived in a country house, and they were my neighbors. They were such a cute typical couple of young people with children. It's like a decent family, where everything goes according to the rules and in a measured manner. No shocks. In the morning, take the children to school, go to work, return at seven o'clock, pick up the children from school on the way, then sit down to dinner together. "You can die from such calmness," I often thought, watching their measured life. I often saw their faces in the window when they sat down at the table in the evening. It wasn't that I was peeking, I was just coming home late from work and couldn't resist the temptation to peek through the ever-ajar window (and they still need to be curtained). Moreover, I don't have a family myself — at least to see how other people live, hehe.

Only, as it turned out, not everything was so smooth. One night, I was woken up by a heart-rending scream coming from the house next door. At first I wanted to go back to sleep, because it's not in my nature to meddle in other people's business, but it hurt to scream too long. You have to have a conscience.

I got up, got dressed and left my house, building up curses in my head, which are now going to splash out in a dirty stream on the heads of the poor neighbors. But that didn't happen, and here's why: when I approached the neighbors' gate, the last ones flew out like a bullet, almost knocking me off my feet. I was stunned by the sight of them: in their nightgowns, their faces were white. The children clutched at me and began to cry. "What the hell is going on here?" I thought, and I asked in a calm tone, addressing the woman:

"What happened?" I heard screams.

"There's someone in our house!" — the woman began to speak quickly, her tongue slurring with excitement. — I... at first I heard that someone was walking in the kitchen...I was scared, I was afraid to go check... then I heard someone coming up the stairs and opening the door to the children's room... then Katerina, my daughter, screamed. It was so scary! I immediately ran to them, and we ran out.

"Did you see anyone there?" - I asked.

— No, the children ran out of the room, and I didn't check it.… I'm very afraid, I need to call the police," she said, anxiously glancing at the house.

Obviously, her fear had passed, giving way to anxiety. I looked at the children, who were still trembling with fear, and asked:

"Where's their father?"

"He's working the night shift today," the woman replied.

"Go to my house and call the police, while I check your house," I said and handed the keys to the neighbor. She looked at me in surprise, and there was gratitude in her eyes. Taking her offspring by the arm, the woman left.

It was the first time I was alone with this house. The dark tones didn't suit him very well—he looked gloomy. I remembered the days when he was white, gray, whatever he was! But for some reason, no one stayed in it for long. I looked at the empty windows and the open door, and suddenly it seemed to me that the house was also looking at me, taking a closer look.

"It's a trap," said an inner voice.

"What the hell? What should I be afraid of?" I asked myself. It usually worked, but not this time. Humans, like animals, have an instinct for self-preservation. I do not know what came over me at that moment, but I was afraid. I was afraid of the unknown. I was afraid that the eyes of the dead were looking at me now—they were looking from every dark corner of this house.

—Damn it, I'm not a kid anymore," I said out loud. "Nothing's going to happen to me. We just need to check the house.

I decided to take a step per second, and for each step I repeated to myself: "I'm not afraid of the dead...I'm not afraid of the dead...I'm not afraid of the dead... you have to be afraid of the living... I'm not afraid of the dead..."

As I walked, I looked at the asphalt path and counted the steps. Suddenly, I saw that the asphalt was illuminated by a reflection — a light came on in one of the windows, although according to the neighbor, there was no one at home. I looked out the lighted window and saw no one behind it.

"And yet there's someone there," an inner voice whispered treacherously. "And he's not afraid of being found." He WANTS it."

I was stunned. Now I've definitely decided that I won't check a damn thing until the police arrive. I froze two steps away from the door. The situation itself seemed absurd to me. An adult man is afraid to enter the house, because since childhood he has been afraid to see a ghost!

"If it's a burglar, then why did he turn on the light?" I thought.

Click. The lights went off.

"What the hell?"  I thought and took a few steps back.

I still couldn't see anything in the pitch darkness, but I could feel on my skin that a dead man was looking at me.

Click. The light turned on.

What I saw in the window almost gave me a stroke. My sister, who died three years ago, was standing there. She looked at me with glazed eyes and smiled a dead smile.

Click. The lights went out.

I ran as fast as I could to my mansion. When I ran into my room, I felt better, but not much. My neighbor (her name was Lisa) looked at me with fear and concern.

—Water, please," I said, leaning on my kitchen set and breathing heavily. My heart was pounding so hard that I was afraid I might have a heart attack.

My face must have been so pale that the children started crying again. I pulled myself together and tried to smile. But, apparently, it turned out badly.

— Mom!  Katerina shouted.

Lisa came into the kitchen with a glass of water (I had a pump outside, so she had to go out) and handed it to me. I drank for a long time and painfully, I didn't want the water to run out, because I already saw a mute question on Lisa's face. After draining the glass and seeing that Lisa was about to ask me, I stopped the question.:

"Have you called the police?"

"She's on her way,— she said. "Have you checked the house?"

I answered in a voice that didn't seem to belong to me, but to another person.:

—Um... I don't see the need for that... the police are coming anyway."

Lisa looked at me incredulously and worriedly. I looked away—I didn't want her to read everything in my eyes. At that moment, I couldn't vouch for my mental health.

Ten minutes later, the police arrived and searched the entire house in search of the thief. But no one was there anymore. Did I know? that they wouldn't find anything because my dead sister was the "thief"! The police spent another half hour combing the neighborhood, asking the neighbors, especially me. There was no question of telling them what I had seen. When asked, typically in such situations, if I had seen anything suspicious, I replied that I had not. But the image of a dead woman smiling with a terrible unearthly smile and looking at me kept coming back to my mind.

The police, having found no trace, left on their more important business, perhaps laughing along the way at the ridiculous situation with the "invisible" thief. Only me and the family next door weren't laughing. By seven o'clock in the morning, the head of the family, Mikhail, arrived (as he introduced himself to me later). At the sight of his father, the family cheered up, and they all returned to this house. I tried not to look at him, especially at the upper windows.

After that crazy night, I didn't sleep well. As soon as I closed my eyes, I immediately saw the dead. It was only a month later that I was able to live normally. And the neighbors seem to have calmed down, returned to their rut. Mikhail set up cameras and alarms everywhere after this incident, so that everyone could sleep peacefully. And I was happy—no one screamed at night, and I didn't see corpses in the windows. Life was a success!

But a month later, one afternoon, someone started knocking on my door. Moreover, the knock was confident and strong. Someone was persistently trying to literally break through my door. I went up to her and looked through the peephole. Damn, it's Lisa!

"Is something wrong?"- I asked.

- yes. Can I have some water, please?  She said in an unusually plaintive voice.

"Well, we've lived! Don't you have enough water of your own? Or does it taste different?" I thought, but I opened the door anyway.

Lisa smiled. And that smile seemed so creepy and inhuman to me that a shudder ran through me from head to toe, but I quickly got over it and motioned for her to come in. I didn't have to ask a second time — Lisa came in and went into the living room uninvited, never turning around, still with the same frozen smile on her face.

"Well, great, now I also have to pour water for her! And she's waiting in the living room!"— I cursed in my mind, heading for the kitchen. It all seemed strange to me. The irrationality of what was happening bothered me as I filled a mug with water.

It was hot, and the kitchen window was open. Birds were singing, and the weather was fine. I could hear the voices of the neighborhood kids playing catch-up, and…

Stop! What's it?

I froze, listening to the voices, and couldn't believe it. Lisa was there! She was outside the fence, playing with the kids.

I dropped the glass from my hand. My whole body felt like it was paralyzed. I couldn't move. There was only one question in my mind.: WHO'S SITTING IN MY LIVING ROOM?

I don't remember getting out of my house—I think I jumped out of the kitchen window. Of course, I didn't check who was sitting in my living room. I ran to the neighbors and just asked them for a phone, called a taxi to the city. I never returned to my country house again.

Now I live in a city where there are more people and fewer dead people. The neighbors, as far as I know, also moved out after a while. People said that the reason was insanity. And a group one. "They thought the house was haunted, the fools!" my friend laughed. And damn it, I was laughing with him. Maybe even louder than him.

The Invisible Man

 In 1993, during the winter holidays, I came to visit my aunt in St. Petersburg - I wanted to "test the waters" before going to university. My relative lived on Vasilyevsky Island alone in a huge three-room apartment. She was very happy to see me, because, according to her, she felt some kind of danger and was afraid for her life. In those days, which were rather vague, I must say, there really was something to be afraid of — "black realtors" were operating everywhere and probably noticed a single woman with real estate in the old fund. For this reason, my aunt, and her name is Alevtina Lvovna, immediately said that I should stay with her during my studies. In principle, it coincided with my plans.

Every morning my aunt went to work, and I stayed in the apartment alone. At first, it was difficult for me to get used to the huge rooms and high ceilings, but after about three days I adapted. The apartment seemed to have a life of its own — here and there the parquet boards creaked, there were some rustles and sighs. I began to understand Alevtina Lvovna — it was scary to live alone here. At night, the strange sounds became even clearer, and it seemed that a ghost was about to appear out of the darkness. Besides, in my sleep it seemed to me that someone was walking in the kitchen, flushing the toilet, turning on the taps.

One day on the weekend, when my aunt stayed at home, I decided to ask if she noticed anything strange in her apartment. Aunt Alya reluctantly supported this topic and first told about the strange sounds, and then suggested a walk. On the street, she bluntly stated that "someone" was living in the apartment. Some kind of creature that has the property of invisibility and is not averse to stealing food from the refrigerator. The strangeness started only a year and a half ago, and she is very afraid that this "someone" will kill her if he finds out that his secret has been revealed. Therefore, this topic should not be raised in the apartment. Alevtina Lvovna also told me that, on the advice of the priest, she sprinkled holy water on all the corners before my arrival. And in response to this, a terrible male laugh rang out from the kitchen. She didn't do anything else.

To put it bluntly, I didn't believe my aunt, but my youthful curiosity was aroused. I decided that for the rest of the week I would definitely solve the mystery of this "creature". A recent incident came to my mind. I was coming out of my aunt's apartment onto the stairs, and the door was ajar. At that time, a German Shepherd dog was being led for a walk from somewhere above. The dog almost escaped from the mistress's arms — she wanted to get inside so much. The girl barely dragged her away from the door, and the barking could still be heard on the street.

On the same day, I ambushed Lena — that was the name of the owner of the shepherd dog — on the street and directly asked her for help. I should have let Guy in and seen what was making him so angry. Lena was my age, and apparently she liked me, so she agreed to the experiment.

When the dog had had a walk, we went up to my aunt's apartment together (my aunt herself had gone to a friend's house), and I opened the door. Guy rushed forward barking and rushed into the kitchen. Then he started running around the apartment and eventually stopped at the pantry door. At the same time, his barking began to alternate with growling — he tried to open the doors with his paws. As soon as I opened one of the doors, the shepherd dog rushed into the darkness and clung to something with its teeth. There was a scream, and something shapeless fell out into the corridor. I turned on the light and saw a bearded man on the floor, trying in vain to unclench the dog's jaws.

Grabbing a knife in the kitchen, I put it to the stranger's throat, and at that moment Lena pulled Guy away. And then, right before my eyes, the man seemed to melt away — objects became visible through him. Lena and I couldn't believe our eyes. The knife fell out of my hands, and my mind went blank—I temporarily lost my sense of reality. All I could hear was Guy barking.

I don't know how much time has passed, but I've come to my senses. Apparently, Lena felt the same way. There was a knife on the floor, a dog was rampaging, the floor was stained with blood — red footprints led to the door, which was wide open. The wounded "invisible man" disappeared.

There was nothing to discuss — Lena and the dog went home, and I started cleaning. My mood was depressed, as if someone had messed with my brain. By the time my aunt arrived, there were no signs of a struggle. Listlessly, I told Alevtina Lvovna that the "creature" was no longer in the apartment and asked her never to leave the door to the stairs open again. He went to bed and slept for twelve hours. It was only after that that I was able to explain something to my aunt. But it seems, in turn, she didn't believe me. However, since then, the oddities in the apartment have disappeared.

Six months later, I came to study, and three years later, Lena (Guy's hostess) and I got married. And we're still together. We remember the hunt for the "invisible man" now with humor, although it was not a laughing matter then.