The Queen of Spades

 I'm almost sixteen, and I'm going to die soon, not from an incurable disease or a deadly virus, but because of my own stupidity, thanks to which my friends and I opened the door to the other world, releasing evil from there.

At my age, the word "death" is just a word you hear in movies or find in books, a kind of abstract concept. It never occurred to me to use it in relation to myself. I was always sure that if I died, it would be very, very soon, at a very old age. However, to be honest, I didn't really believe in my own old age, and even more so in death. At the dawn of life, no one thinks about its decline. I've never gone on a date with a guy, not even kissed yet.…

Tears stung my eyes.

Trying not to cry, I took a few shuddering breaths.

Daria was the culprit. She's the one who's crazy about black magic. Spells, love spells. Lesya and I only laughed at her at first, because her witchcraft was of little use. Take, for example, the fact that Sergei from 10 "B" never fell in love with me, despite all Darya's manipulations with his photo and the creepy entourage in the form of thirteen burning candles and thirteen dried roses. That's why, when our homegrown witch suddenly announced that she could use the dark forces to cancel the annual math test, we almost burst our bellies with laughter.

— What, your dark forces will dry the pasta in all the pens?  Lesya moaned through her laughter.

— Maybe our notebooks will self-ignite? — I put forward my version.

Twirling her finger at her temple in response to our jokes, Daria dryly said:

— You'll see!

That Saturday evening is etched into my memory in every detail.

Daria was at home alone, her parents had gone to the country for the whole weekend. Lesya and I came to her at the appointed hour with a box of cakes, which, alas, we were never destined to taste.

Daria opened the door and motioned for us to enter, then, without saying a word, led us through the dark hallway to her room. Slightly discouraged by the mystery of what was happening, Lesya and I were also silent. He made not only a frightening, but also a fascinating impression of Darya's unusual appearance. She was wearing a long black silk dress, black ballet flats on her feet, and a black nylon scarf tied with a tourniquet decorated her head. The makeup was also designed in the "vampire" style: lips in black lipstick, black nail polish, black eyeliner.

Everything in the room was ready for the upcoming "sacrament": the windows were tightly curtained, candles were placed both around the perimeter and around the mirror placed on the carpet.

Daria nodded at the pillows. We obediently sat down on them, forming a kind of enclosed space between the three of us, the center of which was a mirror surrounded by burning candles.

— What kind of folk art is this?  Lesya couldn't resist asking.

A symbolic staircase was painted in black lipstick in a mirrored circle, ending at one end in a closed door.

"This?"  Daria smiled mysteriously. — A ritual image to summon the Queen of Spades!

"The Queen of Spades?" But Herman's not here!  Lesya made a mocking face and, becoming serious, added:

— We're doing stupid things!.. How can you believe in all this nonsense?..

— Wait, you'll believe it yourself soon!  Daria smiled promisingly.

Admittedly, I myself have always been skeptical about girls' stories about the spirits of the Queen of Spades or Bloody Mary, supposedly fulfilling any desires of those who cause them. But it was a pity to upset Daria, the poor thing wanted to surprise us with her ability to do black magic. I supported her.:

— Let's get started! "The devil pulled my tongue!"

Daria held out her hands to us, and the three of us completed the ritual circle, after which we bent over the mirror so low that our heads touched, and repeated the necessary incantation three times: "Spirit of the Queen of Spades, come!"

The main wish was voiced, of course, by Daria:

— Help us, please make sure that we don't write the annual math test!

There was silence for a moment, but the next thing Lesya giggled nervously.:

— It's a madhouse!

—Shh...— Daria stopped her, putting her finger to her lips.

An unexpected sound, like the creaking of rusty door hinges, startled us all. I noticed Lesya tensing up in alarm. Daria's pale face, wreathed in a kind of triumphant smile, looked like a grotesque mask of Death in the darkness. It was cold, as if someone had entered the warmth from the cold, without immediately closing the door. I shivered instinctively. And suddenly there were footsteps, light, swift, like a gust of wind that immediately extinguished all the candles. Lesya screamed in fright. We squeezed each other's hands with all our might. I can't tell you how scary it was! I was afraid to move and almost fainted when a woman's crazy laughter sounded in the pitch darkness. The footsteps were getting closer. It felt as if someone invisible had descended an invisible staircase and passed by us. The door of Darya's room suddenly opened and slammed shut. Everything went quiet. There was no sound, no movement, not even the cold. The chandelier flared up on its own. I don't know how much time passed while we were in prostration. Maybe a few seconds, or maybe even half an hour, as Lesya claimed the next day. By the way, she was the first to come to her senses, and her angry scream still rings in my ears.:

—It's a nightmare! Daria, I'll never forgive you! What was that?!

— The Spirit of the Queen of Spades, which you didn't believe in! — came the victorious reply.

"Stop messing with my head! It's clear that you've played a prank on us!  Tossing aside the pillow she was sitting on, Lesya ran around the room. — Come on, tell me, where did you hide it?..

"Who did I hide?"  Daria screamed, offended by the incredulity. "What are you doing?" Stop going through my stuff!

— Not who, but what!.. Phone, tape recorder, laptop!.. Where was the sound coming from?.. You wrote down all these steps and creaks in advance to scare us, and we idiots fell for it!..

— I didn't write anything down!

— Yeah, tell the donkey, his ears are more authentic!

I stopped the argument by pointing with a trembling hand at the cracked mirror.:

— Girls, look! — The rays diverged at an angle from the painted door, crossing the schematically depicted staircase, in the direction of the exit from the room...

On Monday, in math class, we were informed that the final test in the tenth grades had been postponed to Thursday.

— Okay, at least Darya's witchcraft partially worked!  Lesya laughed.

It was funny to me then, too, but now I realize that witchcraft worked one hundred percent. The Queen of Spades fulfilled Darya's request exactly: none of the three of us are destined to write an annual test... ever!..

Daria didn't show up at school that day. At the last break, we called her, and when we found out that she was in the hospital, we rushed there, but we were too late. The disease developed so rapidly that the doctors did not even have time to make a diagnosis. "It's all blackened, like it's charred!" was all the nurse on duty in the intensive care unit could tell us.

It's Tuesday night.

Lesya died this morning.

I can hear my mom sobbing into the phone, listing my symptoms to the ambulance dispatcher. My fingers and toes became numb, lost their sensitivity, and began to turn black. The blackness is rising higher and higher by the minute.…

And I'm not even sixteen yet!..

The doll in the field

 It started in my childhood, when I was about ten years old. My street is located on the outskirts of the village, next to a field and forests. My friends and I have always loved to walk in that field — there are many interesting and mysterious places there. And so we went there once with a friend. The road ran on the edge of a field — on one side there were thick bushes growing in a ditch with dirty water, and on the other — a field. We walk, we walk, I look — there are some things on the road. We came up and looked: a big plastic doll with curly blond hair, all dirty, looking with one eye.

I picked it up vertically, and the other eye opened. And the first one wouldn't close, no matter how I turned it. Even when I tried to force it shut, the eye wouldn't close and stared at me piercingly. It was pretty frustrating. A dirty little doll carriage lay broken and flattened on the ground nearby, and next to it... skull. It looks like a dog (probably a puppy), without a lower jaw.

We decided to throw away this nasty doll. I took her by the hair and threw her as hard as I could towards the bushes. She fell in the middle of them and splashed into the dirty water. I threw the skull in the opposite direction, and pulled the wheelchair back and threw it on the curb. We went on to discuss the find — we came up with a name for it, dreamed up all sorts of stories about it, and upon returning home we told the rest of our friends.

The next day, two friends went with me to show me the place. On the way there, at some point it seemed to me that someone's blond hair flashed through the bushes. I put it down to my imagination, but then I saw the same thing again. When we finally arrived, I showed and told everything, but I couldn't find the doll.

A few days later, one of my friends' beloved dog disappeared without a trace. Soon another purebred cat disappeared. The disappearances of small animals continued intermittently for about a year. I personally lost a cat, and then a kitten.

During this time, we went to that field many more times and noticed strange things there. We also found individual bones there many times, skeletons and skulls of animals scattered across the field. Once, a large dog with a hole in its stomach was found in the bushes. And one day I was walking along the road with the very friend with whom we found that damn doll. Suddenly she whispered to me, "Let's run!" We took off, and when we got home, she said she saw a doll standing in the middle of a field and looking in our direction.

One more incident is especially unpleasant for me to remember. I was walking in the field and got my foot in a hole. There was something soft at the bottom. Looking closer, I saw that it was a piece of a dog's body — the hind legs, pelvis, tail and part of the belly. And the hole itself was clearly recently dug by someone.

After about a year, the disappearances stopped. Shortly after that, on a summer day, I found the doll in a field. She was lying about a hundred meters from the place where I threw her into the bushes. The face and torso were almost completely melted, as if someone had burned the doll. But his arms, legs, and hair were almost unscathed.

Overnight visit

 After school, I moved to another city, went to university, and lived in a rented apartment. Of course, I really missed all my friends and parents, but I especially missed my older sister, whom I love very much. I often had dreams about friends and family, rather wonderful dreams. They asked me for something. Then to eat, then to give something. That night, I had a dream about Alyona (my sister). She was sitting on my bed and very insistently asked me to give her salt. I woke up in the middle of the night. Of course, I was home alone. I didn't have time to really come to my senses when the doorbell rang. I go to the door, look through the peephole — Alyona. I was overjoyed and said loudly:

— I'll open it now, wait!

The door was unlocked with keys, the keys were in the bag. I took the bag, dumped all the things out of it and froze. I guess I just finally woke up and realized the situation. It's two o'clock in the morning. My sister is standing in the doorway. Even if you imagine that she took the last bus, drove for five hours, and then for some reason drove around the city for two hours, it remains completely unclear why she didn't call me, and... she didn't have a bag. Nothing. No suitcase, no backpack, not even a handbag.

I stared at the pile of things in front of me, then picked up my cell phone and dialed Alena's number. Five rings, then a sleepy, dissatisfied voice.:

"Hello?"

"Are you standing outside my door?"

—What?" I'm sleeping, actually!

I went to the door and looked through the peephole with a sinking heart. Alyona is standing there. He's looking right at me. And suddenly, something almost imperceptibly changed in her face. But I couldn't figure out what it was, because I immediately heard a bang—the light bulb above the door had blown out. And then something happened that made me jump away from the door and hide in a corner. Alyona (or someone trying to be like her) began frantically banging on the door and shouting inhuman, bestial screams without words. One minute they sounded plaintive, as if begging me to open up, the next they became threatening and scared me half to death. The phone was still in my hands. "What's going on in there? Are you there? Alyona screamed, but I didn't have the strength to answer her. I pressed myself into a corner and watched the rather flimsy door to my apartment shake. It lasted about ten minutes, after which everything went quiet. None of the neighbors came out to the entrance, as if they hadn't even heard the screams.

I called my sister back, who had already gotten everyone on their feet (I called my mom, friends in my city, and the police), and convinced her that everything was fine with me. Of course, I didn't feel like sleeping, so I went to the kitchen to have tea. But before I could get the cup out, my heart skipped a beat again—the doorbell rang again. At first I didn't want to open it, but then they said:

— Open up, police!

I breathed out a sigh of relief. That's right, my caring sister even managed to get the phone number of our precinct and called there! I went to the door and looked through the peephole. Because of the burnt-out light bulb, nothing was visible—just a vague shadow.

—Uh,— I said. — Thank you for your concern, everything is fine.

"I need to go in and make sure of that," they said urgently from the other side. — Open the door.

—Thank you very much,— I replied as gently as possible, realizing that I wasn't ready to open the door right now, even to the police. "But it's really okay, sorry to bother you, have a nice night."

There was a pause. The man on the other side didn't seem to know what to do.

"All right,— he said in an impatient voice. "Then could you please lend me some salt"?..

I'll find you anyway.

 When I was a kid, I had a friend, a funny, mischievous girl. When we were 12 years old, she and her parents moved to Kiev, and we never saw each other again.

And so, many years later, I found out that she had returned to Moscow. We called and met. She looks great, looking for a job. When asked about the reason for returning to the capital, she told the following story. And I wish I hadn't asked.…

Her name is, say, Larisa. When she was 19, she had an affair. The kid was a young, handsome student. Naturally, he's poor, without a stake or a yard. The love was hot, there was even sex, and it was very great, but... an older and richer man turned up for her, and she dumped the student. He began to suffer, crying, begging, calling, waiting at the entrance at night, throwing himself on his knees in front of her. But she wasn't paying attention. I decided to marry a rich man.

The day before the bachelorette party, the student called Larisa and said that he would be the eternal shadow of her marriage if she did not change her mind. He committed suicide by hanging himself under her window on a baby swing on Larisa's wedding night. They buried him and cried. Over time, they began to forget.

Only every night before the start of her menstrual cycle, Larisa saw a familiar silhouette in the window. She was worried, afraid, and crying. Her husband laughed and comforted her. As soon as Larisa became pregnant, the silhouette in the window disappeared. But he started coming to her bed! She would wake up to the unbearable smell of a rotting body and see a misty silhouette slipping away to the window. I had a miscarriage, and so on two more times.

The rich man left Larisa after four years of marriage. Two months later, she found out about her new pregnancy. Without telling anyone, she came to Moscow to visit her relatives, hoping to have a baby here. Every night she dreams of a student who turns over everything in her room with the words: "Where are you? I'll find you anyway!"

It seemed to me that my friend's mental health was not all right, we said goodbye, and I rushed home. I came out of the entrance, waiting for my husband to pick me up. It's dark and creepy outside. But here comes the headlights of our car. Andrew, finally!!! I took a step towards the car... and then suddenly a man appeared in front of me, as if he had grown out of the ground. Short and very thin.

He asks if you know which entrance 222nd apartment is in. I automatically answer, "No!" and quickly get into my lover's car. And then I realize that this stranger stinks terribly, is he really a bum?

But he was asking for Larisa's apartment!

Before eternity

 - Dad, how long is it to go?  Tim whined in the backseat again.

- It seems, - the father picked up the mobile phone and checked the navigator, - a couple more turns and we are in place.

"Watch the road, Eddie.

The woman in the front seat unbuckled her seat belt and turned to her son, who was hugging a gray stuffed rabbit.

- It's okay, we'll be there soon. Eddie," she glanced at her husband, "it seems to me that something is missing.

- Don't worry, it's always like this before the holidays. Chores, gifts. But this time, we won't have to do anything. What could be better than celebrating New Year's Eve in one of the best hotels in the suburbs?

Claire wanted to say that it would be more comfortable at home, but for some reason the words stuck in her throat.

"You know, Eddie, it feels like we've left our cat at home.

- It's funny. With your allergy to animals," Eddie grinned, and abruptly turned the steering wheel to the right.

"It's just a comparison. But for your sake, my boys, I'm ready to pretend that we left the cat in the care of the neighbors.

The man smiled, turned right once more, and the car stopped in front of the entrance to a huge hotel.

Golden facade, white columns with Atlanteans, seven floors and many balconies. The family got out of the car and walked cheerfully to the front door. The doorman met them at the door, took the bags, and escorted them to the reception.

A huge hall with mirror-polished floors, a three-meter-high Christmas tree hung with garlands and colored balls. Palm trees in tubs on the edges of burgundy sofas and armchairs. Hundreds of lamps hanging from the ceiling shone into every corner of the hotel.

"Welcome to the ante Eternum Hotel," the girl behind the counter said sweetly, and pulled out a book to fill out.

"Timmy, sit on the couch while Dad and I check in."

"How much longer?" – the boy asked.

- There's not much left.

"You'll be escorted to the upper floors," the girl behind the counter smiled and winked at the boy.

When all the details were recorded and the receptionist took the luggage, the family of three entered the elevator and the doors closed. The girl ran her eyes over the papers, sighed and began to correct the inaccuracies. Newbies often forget to add the last date.

"Okay, Father, nineteen seventy-five, dash, two thousand twenty-one. Mother– nineteen seventy-eight, dash, two thousand twenty-one. Son – two thousand fifteen, dash, two thousand twenty-one. Now, that's right!

A beige Buick drove along a deserted highway, kicking up a dusting of snow that settled in its wake. A girl was sitting at the wheel, humming something, and a guy was dozing next to her, with his feet on a torpedo.

"You won't believe what I just remembered," she suddenly exclaimed.

"That you wanted to let me sleep, but then you changed your mind?" – the guy stretched and lowered his legs.

- One story about a family that crashed on this highway exactly a year ago.

"It's so soothing." Is there something else, or can I go back to sleep?

- No, don't sleep! I recently read it somewhere on the Internet. There's an abandoned hotel nearby. So, their car skidded on the road right into the trees, no one survived. There seemed to be a husband and wife and a boy there. But the eldest daughter survived because she did not go with them. But a few months later, she was found dead. The police have not explained what really happened to her. The official version said overdose.

"You can be creepy, Kristy.

- Well, in short, I started telling you all this for a reason.…

- No, no, and again, no!

"Please, Robie, I really want to see it."

- So that road wasn't closed, and this detour was clearly planned? You just wanted to see the abandoned hotel. Kristina, you're driving me crazy!

- Well, please, - the girl looked at the snow-covered road, and at the same time looked at the guy with a plea, - Let it be a gift for the new year, I won't ask you for anything more.

- Kristy, it's three degrees below zero outside, I'm not climbing into a frozen building.

- Oh, come on, I can run there myself. I just need to take a peek.

The girl stopped the car abruptly and turned to the guy. She looked at him with sad eyes for three minutes, and then smiled when she realized that he had made up his mind.

- Just not for long, I want to catch Mom's roast. She always makes an amazing roast on New Year's Eve.

"Robby, you're the best guy in the world," Kristy reached out to the guy, kissed him, and jumped out of the car.

- Take your jacket!

They were standing on the edge of the road, and to their left, almost on a cliff, a seven-story hotel towered like a blackened stone.

"He's really beautiful," Kristina said dreamily.

- A huge piece that should have been demolished long ago.

- Come on, we need to see at least part of the building before dark.

"Mom's going to kill us."

The driveway to the hotel was littered with tree branches, trash brought from the road, and other pieces of paper that appeared from nowhere. The snow stopped falling in the morning, but some places were covered more than others. Sinking ankle-deep into muddy snowdrifts, the guy and the girl reached the main entrance to the hotel.

The walls were peeling off, and they looked like the Middle Ages. The glass was broken in almost all the windows, the Atlanteans who held the columns lost body parts and looked like terrible cripples. The front steps were smashed, and one of the doors had come off and was lying a little further from the entrance.

- It's so cool here!  Kristy whirled around with her head up. – You know, in the immediate vicinity this place is not liked and avoided. They say the hotel was built by an unknown rich man, and died immediately after opening. That was a couple of decades ago. The staff didn't really go anywhere either. The land here is not fruitful and is not needed by anyone, so people have left everything like that. But there are rumors that on New Year's Eve, music and people's voices can be heard from the hotel.

"I hope there are no ghosts here."

- There are no such things!  The girl grabbed Robie by the arm and pulled him inside the hotel.

The hall gloomily greeted the new guests with dampness, twilight and a booming echo. The floors were cracked, and in some places, there were gaping holes in the ground. The Christmas tree in the very center crumbled, and the rotten trunk bent obediently in a creepy greeting. A hole had formed in one of the walls, and the December sunlight illuminated the lobby of the once majestic hotel.

- Christmas tree, Robie, do you understand what this means?

- That even in this backwater they celebrated the new year? – the guy replied and with the toe of his shoe he picked up a cushion from the sofa lying on the floor.

- No! The Christmas tree means that people abandoned this place on New Year's Eve or immediately after it. It's strange, just like that, to take and close such a huge institution. Oh, what a beauty!

Kristina went to the reception desk and took a book for registration from the shelf. The cover is blue, cracked and crumbled at the corners. The sheets were twisted and yellowed.

- Kristy, are you satisfied already?  Robie looked desperately towards the exit.

- No, of course not. Look, you can see the names and signatures here. But the arrival dates are strange, only the years, and even then, everything is written in a different order.

"What are you doing there?"

"I'm registering," the girl replied laughing, and taking a pen out of her jacket pocket, she wrote in the free column: Robert Sloane and Kristina Simon. – Your room is on the third floor, down the corridor to the left.

And Kristina took the key off the board and handed it to her boyfriend.

- Maybe you shouldn't?

"Coward Robie, would you like to see the apartment?"

- The time is almost up, the sun will set soon, and getting to Mom will become more difficult.

"As you wish, I'll take a quick look at the number."

And the girl, without waiting for her boyfriend to decide to keep her company, went towards the elevators, where the stairs were supposed to be located nearby.

The steps, once covered with a carpet, crumbled right underfoot, the wooden railing collapsed, gathering in a toothy heap below. It was damp all around, and small bushes had sprouted somewhere, but the snow clearly couldn't get here. The girl carefully climbed up, pressing herself against the wall with mold, counting the flights.

- Why the third floor?  Robie shouted from below.

- Because it's more fun that way. Catch up, I'm already in the hallway.

 The third floor looked like a place from a horror movie. The darkness swallowed up almost the entire corridor, and it was impossible to tell how many meters it stretched into the depths. To the right of the stairs, a maid's cart was parked against the wall. The neatly folded towels were slowly rotting, and the shampoo bottles were foaming with green liquid. The girl took out her phone and turned on the flashlight. The left side of the corridor appeared in the twilight. Wallpaper was rolling off the walls, and now it was completely impossible to tell what color they were before. Some of the room doors are locked, some are open, but Kristina seemed to be walking to a certain place.

"The first, the second, the third, I think it's this one.

The girl pushed the door open and shone her light inside. The curtains on the windows had decayed, and the light of the winter sun fell on the huge bed. There were two bags and a suitcase by the chairs, from which protruded the ear of a stuffed rabbit with the child's name "Timmy" embroidered on it.

The beam of the flashlight danced across the walls and corners, and a black hand appeared from under the bed, rotted over the months. She slowly reached for the girl's leg, as if afraid to startle her.

"Where are you?" – I went into Robie's room, and the hand immediately disappeared.

"Your eyes look like you've seen a ghost."

- You won't believe it, but I think I heard music. Some kind of New Year's song.

- Fear can do a lot to our minds, believe me, I've read a lot about it.

- Come on, let's get back in the car and go to my mom. I'm not a coward, but it's too creepy.

- Okay, come down, I'll catch up with you now.

Kristina bent down and pulled the rabbit out of the suitcase. The fur remained gray and clean, and did not fit in with the destroyed hotel.

"That's creepy too, Christy. Drop it!

And at that moment, the creaking of floorboards was heard above their heads. The sound shifted, and clearly indicated heavy footsteps.

"You're right, Robie, we've gone too far.

The guy ran out of the room and raced down the corridor to the stairs, the girl ran after him. They were in such a hurry that they didn't notice that the hallway was no longer dark, and the wall sconces were starting to glow with a dim yellow light.

Robie ran down the stairs, turned the corner and almost crashed into the revolving door of the restaurant. The faint New Year's music was coming from there. The door swung open, revealing a bright kitchen with a set table.

"This can't be happening!" – the guy recognized his mother's kitchen in the setting.

There were candles, salads and a signature roast on the table with a burgundy tablecloth embroidered with Christmas toys and snowmen.

- Robert, why are you always late for family holidays? – a woman's voice was heard, which made the hairs on the back of Robie's neck stand on end.

"Mom?"

- Come in quickly, your father will be right there. The garage was covered in snow again, and he'd be working on it for another ten minutes.

The guy took only two hesitant steps forward and the doors creaked shut, blocking the light from the kitchen into the hall.

Kristina went down to the first floor and froze in complete silence.

"Robie, where are you?" Robie!

The girl walked to the center of the hall and stared at the Christmas tree, which just a few minutes ago was rotten and bent. Something has changed! The plant remained bent over, but some of the needles turned greener and the balls became shiny.

- Robie, this is not funny at all! You know I'm skittish.

Music started playing in the hall, and the gray hare fell out of the girl's hands.

"So it's all true, and my parents are here somewhere." Mom, Dad, Timmy!  Kristina rushed back to the stairs. "That old woman wasn't lying when she said that after death, souls need shelter and they're looking for a place nearby. My family should be here.

The stairs looked completely different now. The railing returned to its place, the carpet was restored and covered the steps. Lamps lit up on the spans. The third floor also managed to transform, the wallpaper turned bright yellow, the flowers in the floor vases came to life, and their scent filled the space.

- Mom always said that her favorite hotel room is four, on the third floor.

Kristina opened the door and found herself... at the reception.

"What's going on?" – the girl was dressed in a hotel uniform and was standing at the paperwork desk.

The hall shone with its sophistication and marble, a three-meter spruce sparkled with toys and garlands. People were sitting on burgundy sofas and chatting with each other. The hotel has regained its former splendor.

"This can't be happening!" Robie, where are you?  Christina shouted, and everyone present turned their heads in her direction.

The girl got out from behind the counter and ran to the exit. There was a doorman standing behind the glass door, and beyond that stretched the snowy expanse.

"Let me out!" – the girl beat on the glass with her fists, unable to open the door. The doorman turned and looked at her sadly through Robie's eyes. "Robie, help me!"

"It doesn't mater anymore," he replied, opened the door, and the girl jumped out. But what was her horror when, instead of the street, she found herself back at the reception desk.

- Please register us. We need to be settled in time for the holiday," a young woman holding a little girl's hand asked.

- what?  Kristina asked, not understanding what was going on.

- We definitely need to make it. Otherwise, you'll have to wait a whole year. Registration takes place only on this day, before the new year.

"Register yourself," Kristina threw a book at them and ran out from behind the counter again.

And so it went on and on. Kristina would run out and then find herself back at the check-in place. And Robert was launching more and more new guests, and soon the hall was so full that the hum of voices became unbearable.

"Register us," the woman with the girl asked for the umpteenth time.

"Why?" – Kristina cried, - We are all cursed here and stuck forever.

- That's why registration is needed.

"Okay," Kristina took the book and opened it to the blank pages.

The woman smiled, took a pen and wrote: Margot – one thousand nine hundred and ninety–three, Clara - two thousand sixteen.

Kristina turned the book towards her and realized that they needed to go upstairs.

"The desk clerk will show you out," she replied, and added "two thousand twenty-two."

After the woman, a man came up, and for some reason, Kristina, without understanding why, sent him downstairs. Feeling that he was different from many who came to the hotel.

"This is a record of life and death," she whispered, examining the book while the next customers lingered at the counter. I flipped through the pages and found the dates of my parents and brother. A cheerful New Year's melody was playing behind his back. "So Robie and I are dead, too?"

And she started looking for their names. After all, she made a record with her own hands at the very beginning, when they first entered the hotel. Does that mean she killed herself and Robie? The pages opened, and the book fell to the floor.

"I'll sign up," the old man asked, barely able to stand, but smiling. 

"Sure, just a second," Kristina bent down to pick up the book, on the pages of which were written: Kristina – one thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight, dash, eternity. Robert– nineteen ninety-five, dash, eternity.

"My name is Larry," the old man said.

"Welcome to the Ante Eternum Hotel, Larry. I've signed you up. You go upstairs, the receptionist will show you," Kristina smiled sadly and made an entry in the registration book. And music was playing behind him, people in the lobby were gradually leaving, the fir tree was leaning more and more towards the floor, the light was beginning to fade, warning that the new year was coming, and those who did not register on time would have to wait in the dark for the next day of registration. He will walk around a ruined hotel with a decomposing body and yearn for a past life, in a place where souls find shelter before eternity.

Highway E105

 I went out, looked at the door, and there was not a dent, but a gap, as if the rebar had been inserted and passed. The men who were in the parking lot crowded around when they saw the case, and they told him everything.

It is rumored that sometimes human bones are found in the swamps, piled up and gnawed white. And when a whole group of foreign tourists disappeared here, the cops raided the forests. We walked for a long time, until finally we found the bones sucked. And among them is a nail sharpener, which is made behind bars. By the way, there were no incidents for a long time after those events. I guess I've had enough.

That's the way it is, San. I'm not going to lie – I haven't seen anything like this myself for as long as I've been traveling. Sometimes something glittered in the headlights, but it could be foxes or wolves, they still roam here. And one day I caught a glimpse of something running across the road. It was as big as a man, but it moved like an animal. Maybe a wolf, or maybe one of these…

Anyway, no one has been missing here for a long time and no empty cars have been found, for three or four years. Either it has subsided, or everyone is lying. One thing scares me, if these creatures are real, they're probably hungry..."

I listened to this guy, to the steady rocking of the cabin, while simultaneously struggling with sleep. It's creepy, of course, to imagine such a thing at night, but so tired after those few hours on foot, my body fell into a doze with pleasure. The driver continued to tell stories and sluggishly answering him, I was already leaning against the window and starting to take a nap. Road signs, trees, poles, and the occasional oncoming car whizzed by, doing nothing to dilute the emptiness of the night highway.

Half asleep, I had been watching the glare for several minutes floating among the trees. It was like the light of the moon falling on the bike's retroreflectors.…

You know, I'm not the timid type. I've heard worse stories and even practically participated. But then I had a cramp. The longing trucker continued his stream of speech, and I was horrified to see two huge glowing eyes in the thicket, moving parallel to our car and staring at me with their attentive and very... hungry gaze.

Chilled to the bone, I turned to the driver, noticing that he had abruptly stopped talking and was staring at the road.…

The silhouette on the side of the road was rapidly approaching, and I was torn between two feelings: to shrink into the seat and become invisible, and at the same time to cling to the glass and see, as far as possible in the dark, this voting person when we pass by.

"Oh, Sanya, how lucky you are that I picked you up," the driver muttered then, without taking his eyes off the creepy figure. Most of all, she looked like a cat staring at you from the dark, with the light from a flashlight reflected in her eyes. Our truck was moving at a decent speed, which was a little reassuring, but at the same time we drove so fast that everything turned into a blur. And somewhere on the edge of hearing, I heard a disappointed howl.

"Our..."

Something was puffing right next to my door. I looked out the window and…

"Drop us off... we won't touch you... he's ours... our prey... why did you pick him up..."

This story was told to me by a trucker when I was hitchhiking in the north of our homeland. He picked me up on the E105 highway in the Murmansk region, between Monchegorsk and Pyrenga. By that time, I had already been stomping for four hours, it was dark, there was a forest around, there was some kind of reserve, I don't remember the name anymore. It's late afternoon, and the cars aren't in a hurry to slow down, even more so, they gasped at the sight of me, as if they wanted to get out as soon as possible. And only this trucker probably regretted it, and even then it was kind of strange: he stopped a hundred meters ahead, leaned out of the passenger window and pointed a flashlight at me. The sun had already sunk below the horizon, of course, but it wasn't exactly dark. And he didn't take his eyes off me the whole way that I was stomping to the car.

I came up, he wouldn't open the door, we exchanged a few words, he looked at me suspiciously, and then, for no reason at all, he told a joke. And I was tired, but this guy was so endearing to himself, and even more so, the warm cabin of his Mercedes, that at first I laughed out of politeness, and then I actually doubled over with laughter. As soon as he saw it, he opened the door, "get in," he says.

We started moving, and he looked at me askance, and we chatted about various things, and I even got a little nervous. And then he asks me straight out what I've been doing here. I tell him that I want to hitchhike to the Barents Sea, but I was delayed on the highway because no one picked me up. Then this guy grinned and said that I was lucky that he found me. Well, and then from his words:

"The roadside empties out after sunset, San. Local villagers, urban residents, only fly through this area by car and do not stop. And while it's still light, the voters are being selected, but that's if they're familiar. I'm from Murmansk, I know the place well, I've traveled all over the region. And if someone sees a pedestrian on the side of the road, he pushes his shoe into the floor and skips by. We have a story that this is not an ordinary passenger. Well, as a story, the village grandmothers will tell you what you want, it depends on the skill, the legend is rather local and I've heard it since childhood.

In general, they wander here in the evenings, until midnight, along the road. You can't make out what they look like in the dark, but no one has the courage to stop and look closely. Those who have enough will not tell. They're called fellow travelers, and they've been wandering for half a hundred years, probably.

There were sawmills here, under the Communists, the place was cleaned for interchanges and branches were made from the highway. Special components were brought from all over the Chernozem region. The places are remote, you can't get to settlements without a map more often, so they didn't keep much watch over the camps. Where are you going from here? So one day we missed an entire shift at the sawmill.

Twelve people disappeared as they had not been. They rushed to look for them, the sailors from the base were pulled up, the forest was combed, and after about a week they began to catch them one by one. The prisoners, they are only united in front of the camp administration, as soon as they are outside, everyone begins to pull the blanket over themselves. So they quarreled in the woods, scattered one by one. Four of them really stuck to each other, three old and one young. And this young man was not easy, the son of some party member, he made a frivolous noise, but did not smear the folder. He was about five years old, I think, and the Urks managed to talk him out of it.

At that time, a warning went out in the newspapers of the nearest cities, saying that there were no mushrooms or berries in the forests, otherwise you never know. The orientation points for the departments were posted. And when they began to find them, they calmed down. Well, how did the newspapermen calm down, and those who were not directly involved in the search? San, there was such a thing that captured loners told creepy things about morals.

these three, the oldest urkagans. And every next one gets scarier. When, apart from those four, the others were caught, the cops ran around like they'd been shot.

Do you know who is called "canned food" in the camps? That's it. Are you getting it now? The last one they caught told them that the grub was over, the three instigators began to look at their NZ, that's why the others ran away, they felt sick themselves. The folder of that kid howled, personally wandered through the woods with the search engines. And not a word in the newspapers, so as not to cause panic.

They found him, anyway. I managed to overcome my hunger earlier. And the scariest thing is that they literally didn't get a kilometer to the highway. They would have gotten themselves something to eat there. After that, the authorities secretly ordered them to be nailed on the spot. And they did shoot after a couple of days. They hid in the swamps, they thought that they would not be searched much there. They were having a meal when the sailors jumped out at them, they didn't even have time to gnaw the bones properly. The bodies were loaded onto an all-terrain vehicle and taken to the city, and it just fell into the quagmire. The driver barely managed to jump out. So they left them in the swamp.

And after a couple of seasons, people began to disappear in the area. Those who walked along the road in the evening are on the missing persons lists. People started to be cautious, stopped walking here, everything seemed to calm down for a year, and then they began to find empty cars on the side of the road. Everything is as one – with its nose in the ground, as if it jumped off the road at speed, the doors are wide open, things are overturned and there is no trace around.

They attacked the raiders, patrolled, ambushed, but to no avail. And the people around are not the police, it's not shameful to believe in devilry. Therefore, when rumors about strange people standing on the night road started, they immediately realized everything. Then they almost stopped finding empty cars, no one stops. It rarely happens, but all the rooms there are not local.

Those who have skipped past this devilry say that when the light hits their eyes, you can immediately see that there is not a person there, because they glow like two saucers. And the longer they go without food, the wider their eyes get. That's why I was looking into your eyes, checking.

And another driver, from Murmansk, said that he unknowingly braked the truck once at night. He was saved by the fact that the cabin was high, and he couldn't reach the window right away. Just as he was about to roll down the window to talk, that's how I am with you, and this creature is already standing at the door. It's dark, you can't see anything, and she says to him, "Open up, man, I beg you from the bottom of my heart." The driver crossed himself, fired up his cart at once and drove off into the distance. He says that people don't wheeze like that and they don't look at you out of the dark like wolves. When he started to turn off the gas, it hit his door like a bang, it was good – metal, this creature did not reach the window. The glass would have crumbled at once. He raced for a long time, and did not sleep a wink until the morning. At first light, I found a parking lot where people were, and I got up there.

A wheezing, growling, breathless voice came from the other side of the cabin. Exactly the same shadow as mine under the door was hopping after the truck and demanding to speak to the trucker. The man frowned, pursed his lips and just turned on the gas, forcing the creatures to stay.

They drove on in oppressive silence until the trucker gasped and pressed the horn button. I jumped at the deafening horn and peered into the distance. A car rushing to the left suddenly swerved to the side and I managed to see a shadow flash right in front of it, jumping out to intercept. Jumping into oncoming traffic, she barely managed to avoid a head-on collision, in a lighted

In the cabin, a man and a woman, judging by the horror on their faces, were already saying goodbye to their lives. Children's hands clung to the back of the driver's seat…

He braked right in the middle of the road.…

The trucker and I exchanged glances, and the first impulse to stop and intervene immediately passed when the side mirrors finally reflected what was happening around the unfortunate's car.

"Why are you lying in my place?!"

 My grandmother was a good storyteller, and I loved her life stories. There were funny stories, sentimental and, of course, creepy cases among them. This is not to say that she is overly superstitious and religious, and she would not invent. She told me this story once.

It was when my grandmother worked as a packer at a confectionery factory. The team consisted of young girls like her, so "bachelorette parties" were not uncommon. They have never been without love fortune-telling and other similar entertainment. So this time someone brought a book, thanks to which it was supposedly possible to summon the spirit of the deceased. They decided to call someone they knew, but no one wanted to "experiment" on their deceased relatives, so the choice fell on my grandmother's neighbor. He was a big, good-natured man, a hard worker. He lived with his family in a neighboring barrack, and they were friends with my family relatives, until one winter he was killed by drunks and his corpse was thrown into a steep slope. After that, his family left and contact with them was lost, and my grandmother and her husband, my grandfather, occupied a vacant barracks.

Anyway, they turned off the lights, lit candles, said a spell, and everything was as it should be. But absolutely nothing happened, so we sat and laughed and went home. My grandfather was on a business trip at the time, so my grandmother had dinner and went straight to bed. She was just starting to fall asleep when she heard footsteps. And not only did she hear it: it seemed that the whole room was vibrating to the beat, even the dishes in the cupboard rattled. At first, the footsteps came from the dressing room, as if someone was walking back and forth, but then this someone went to the bed. Out of fear, Grandma clutched the blanket with a death grip and literally slammed her forehead into the wall.

— Why are you lying in my place?!  The voice had the same thick baritone as the dead neighbor's.

Grandma's whole body was covered with goosebumps and her breath caught in fear. Tears started to well up in horror, but I didn't have the courage to turn around and look at the speaker. On the contrary, his whole body seemed to be paralyzed.

The voice repeated its question once more. He asked over and over again, but Grandma didn't answer.

"Don't put yourself in my place anymore!" — the voice almost shouted, and the footsteps began to move away towards the anteroom.

Grandma didn't fall asleep until morning. In the afternoon, without waiting for her grandfather, she changed the bed and wardrobe places. The guest did not return again.

The white face

 When my parents and I moved to a new house, I was 8 years old. I liked its location because my best friend lived across the street. The first night I slept well, but the very next night I had a strange dream. I dreamed that I had two older brothers and one older sister (and I'm actually the only one in the family), and that my sister drowned in front of my eyes and took my brothers with her. Then a black-haired man appeared and said that he was glad to see a new neighbor, wished me a pleasant stay and promised to say something at the next meeting.

I didn't pay much attention to this dream and didn't tell my parents. On the third night, I heard footsteps in the hallway in my sleep. I thought my father was walking, but then I realized that I could hear him snoring at the same time. I finally woke up to some kind of rumbling in the hallway. When I went out there (I didn't turn on the light, I took a flashlight), I didn't see anything unusual. The parents were asleep, not noticing anything. I started to go back to my room, and suddenly, in the hallway, I almost bumped into the man from my dream. His face was as white as paper in the lamplight. I screamed, and my parents woke up... My father said it was all a figment of my imagination and sent me to bed.

The next night, when I woke up, I froze in horror.: The same man was standing by my bed! I started screaming again. Mom came running and managed to see the night visitor before she turned on the light and he disappeared. Then she started yelling at Dad, "I told you not to take this house! But no, you're smart, you know everything! Thank you!" When I asked what they were talking about, my mother told me that a widow had sold this house—her husband had been stabbed to death by a drunken friend here.

Soon we returned to our old house. I don't remember much about the time when we lived in that house, except sometimes, almost falling asleep, I suddenly see that deathly pale face in the dark under my eyelids...

The elevator is not working

 I noticed the sign "Elevator does not work" the day we moved from Limoges to Pestrak. My parents did not have their own apartment, and because of this we often had to change the address. At the age of eleven, I was no longer hysterical about such circumstances.

The summer heat was unbearable. The interior of our (or rather, Dad's) BMW was stuffy, and I hurried to get out of it.

—Holy shit! — I heard the screams of one of the movers. — Cargo does not work. We're going to die before we get all this stuff up to the sixteenth floor.

— Let him pay extra! — the voice of another loader rang out. — The miserly bespectacled one.

Dad was talking to someone on his cell phone and didn't get out of the car. Unloading of furniture began without him. She was commanded by a blond guy in a yellow T-shirt and work pants.

I entered the entrance, following the movers, who dragged my wheelchair up the stairs. He stopped at the landing and waited for them to climb two flights of stairs. He wanted to follow them, but changed his mind when he saw the doors of the freight elevator with the sign "Elevator does not work." If it hadn't been for this sign, I probably would have passed it by.

The doors of the freight elevator were in the same wall as the doors of the passenger elevator. There were rusty mailboxes on the opposite wall.

The entrance was dirty and in need of major repairs. The old green paint has partially crumbled. In one corner, a black spider web was waving under the ceiling, and a healthy fat spider was crawling along it.

I pressed the button to call the freight elevator several times and, losing interest in it due to the fact that nothing happened, I moved to the passenger one, but I hadn't taken three steps when I heard a strange screeching sound behind me.

I turned around and saw how the doors of the freight elevator began to open reluctantly, with jerks. I stared at them in fascination. It's still working, it flashed through my mind. There was no limit to my curiosity, I really wanted to look into the opening cabin.

I flinched as I made eye contact with my reflection. A large oval mirror was attached to the wall of the cabin, which caught my eye immediately after opening the doors. Apparently, one of the tenants decided a long time ago that he belonged here. It was old, slightly dusty, with a crack dividing it from top to bottom into two unequal parts.

I entered the elevator car and approached the control panel with the old rectangular buttons. Without hesitation, I pressed the button with the number 16. The elevator doors slowly began to close with an unpleasant screech. It seemed to me that they didn't have the strength to do it faster.

—Come on, you old fart! Come on!  I hurried the elevator as if it were a living being.

The doors obediently slid open. However, it took them twenty seconds or even more. I was disappointed when the elevator didn't move. He didn't even twitch. I pressed the number one button and held it down, trying to force the doors to open. In the old elevators, this technique worked. It also didn't work, although it wasn't new either.

My palms were covered with sweat, and my heart was beating faster. But I didn't panic. There was nothing terrible about this situation—I've been in worse scrapes.

The biggest thing I could get was a slap on the back of the head from my dad. One more, one less. And that's if I have to take my cell phone out of my shorts pocket and call him.

And I wasn't going to call him. Instead, he started pressing all the buttons on the elevator's control panel. First, he ran his fingers over the buttons with numbers, then pressed the "stop" button and then the emergency door release button. Having received no result, I pressed the "dispatcher" call button with my index finger and felt my ears and cheeks turn red.

Something hissed and went silent in the speaker at the top of the control panel. Two seconds later, something crackled and hissed again.

"I'll come for you," a man's voice came from the speaker. — Sit quietly and wait.

The hairs on my head stood up, and I realized that it was time to call my dad. With a trembling hand, I pulled the Nokia out of my pocket and dialed his number. There were long beeps on my cell phone. At the same time, someone outside rattled on the sliding doors with either an awl, a screwdriver, or something similar. I held my breath. The sound was even worse — the nerves were not happy — as if someone was wielding an awl not at the doors, but at something alive, responding with a squeak to all this mockery.

— Hello! — my relative finally responded.

— Dad!  I shouted into the phone.

—Tell me,— he replied roughly and unpleasantly.

"Dad, I'm stuck in the elevator!"

"I'm happy for you," Dad said, "but I have to get to work right away."

My jaw dropped. And it took me a while to find something to say to him.

—Daddy, please,— I whimpered, "get me out of here."

But it was too late — the father broke off the connection. That didn't suit me, so I dialed his phone number again. He didn't answer, and it was very strange, unlike him. Would he leave me alone in a closed, malfunctioning elevator? Is he really going to go to work calmly, knowing that I have serious problems? No, he wouldn't do that.

The scratching became louder and louder. Those who wielded an awl or something similar began to put in a lot more effort. It was unclear why he was doing all this. What did he want to achieve with this?

"Who's there?"  I whined.

The scratching stopped.

"You're scared, aren't you?" "What is it?" a girl asked.

— Very much… Who are you?

— I'm Marina.

— Marinochka, please call someone.

— It's better not to do that.

— Why?!

— If I call him, it will be bad... very bad.

"Get someone else."

"He's the only one here. I'm the only one here.

"Don't be silly!  I shouted. — This can't be happening! Call any apartment and call one of the adults.

The elevator jerked violently, and the light in the cabin became unbearably bright. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"You calm down and sit down,— the girl advised. "That's better, I know. The more fear overwhelms you, the more powerful it becomes.

"Who is he?"

"He's an elevator. If he moves, you'll die.

The smell of burning plastic was added to the bright light. And black smoke streamed through the upper ventilation grate. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pounded on the elevator door with my fist.

— Marina!  I shouted. — Help me, please. There's smoke.

"I can't help you if you don't listen to me."

— Fire, Marina! Fire!

"I feel sorry for you," she replied in a calm voice.

"I don't want to die," I sobbed, and there was a thud on the wall of the cabin, on the side where the control panel was located. Someone hit the elevator wall with superhuman force, so that it staggered.

"Sit on the floor and close your eyes," Marina whispered.— Try to calm down.

I sat down on the floor, took a deep breath and exhaled well. The speaker hissed. I closed my eyes, and immediately someone rattled the elevator from below.

— Marina, I'm scared.

The scratching was repeated.

The girl didn't respond, and I suspected something was wrong.

— Marina, where are you?  I whined. — Marinochka.

There is silence in response.

We need to call Mom urgently — she will help! She will not betray or abandon. She's not like Dad. As soon as I thought about my mom, I felt better. And most importantly, everything is quiet — no scraping, no hitting, as if nothing had happened. The elevator doors jerked and opened slightly. Through the gap I saw the rusty mailboxes. I tried to push the doors further apart myself so that I could get out, but they wouldn't budge. But I saw my mom.: She took a step back and came into my field of vision.

"We have a whole hour," Mom muttered, and the blond guy who was in charge of the shipment approached her.

He wrapped his arms around her fragile shoulders, hugged her to him, and said:

— Now we will see you more often. You don't have a husband, you have a moron.

"That's right," Mom sang and pulled away from him a little. He smiled at her, and she stood on tiptoe and lifted her lips to his, playfully extending the tip of her tongue.

Uncle's hand slid below Mom's waist, and I screamed at the top of my voice.:

— Mom, help me! Mom!

But there was no reaction from mom and the blond goat. They continued in the same spirit as they started.

— Mom! Mom! Mom!  I couldn't calm down and screamed until my voice was hoarse.

The doors opened a little wider, allowing me to reach out to grab my mom's elbow. I almost reached out, but the doors did a mean thing — they abruptly clamped my hand. And it was squeezed so hard that stars flashed before my eyes.

The elevator started moving and began to rise. I realized with horror what was waiting for me. I didn't feel any pain—my arm was cut off in a matter of seconds. A fountain of blood filled the entire cabin.

When I woke up, I didn't immediately understand why my hand was in place. Slowly, the thought came to my mind that in reality nothing had been cut off. Apparently, after my arm was severely squeezed, I lost consciousness, and my brain plunged me into a nightmarish vision.

The elevator doors were half open, and it was pitch dark. I could have tried to get out. But I didn't want that at all. Only the damn elevator knew what was waiting for me outside. Where did he take me? What was his next trick?

The doors shook and opened completely. In the darkness, something moved and crawled, scooping up fragments of glass or iron, or maybe both, with its body.

I got to my feet and tried to see what kind of creature was approaching me. But I didn't see anything. What I disliked the most was that the light burning in the elevator didn't even illuminate what was beyond it.

The thing was getting closer and closer. A flash of light outside the elevator lit up the corridor for a moment, and I managed to see a huge evil thing that looked like an alligator, really crawling over the broken glass. Her brain was bubbling in her open skull, like pea porridge in a saucepan on high gas. And some of them were overflowing.

Another flash — this powerful toothy creature cut the distance in half and opened its mouth. I pressed myself against the wall, counting the seconds until she attacked.

Suddenly, Dad's voice rang out from the darkness:

"What's the matter with you, son?" Come out. Can't you see the elevator isn't working.

Glass crunched on the floor very close. A flash of light showed that the evil spirits had almost reached the elevator. All she had to do was make one last sharp leap.

One more second and her sharp teeth will close on my body. That's it! That's it! It's going to happen right now!

Against all odds, I rushed into the darkness to meet the creature. The doors clanged behind him, and the darkness immediately dissipated. I saw a surprised father, rusty mailboxes on the wall, and movers trying to shove a book table into a passenger elevator.

"I can't understand," his father chuckled, "why you're so twisted."

I would have told him, but I doubt he would have believed me.

Intensive care

 I work in the intensive care unit of an infectious diseases hospital, where strange things happen almost every night. Since we have almost all hopeless patients who are living out their last hours and days, we cannot sleep at night, and we often have to declare death.

Maybe someone knows that in intensive care all patients are tied to the bed, because during the illness many do not control their actions, they can get up and piss on the devices, and some come across violent, rush at the medical staff.

So, on June 23 of this year, as usual, I went on duty (I am an infectious diseases doctor). I remember looking at the time — it was 18 o'clock, and I went to make my rounds. I looked at all of them, and it turned out that one ward was empty. I asked the girls nurses to wash it, turn on the quartz lamp and close it. I went to the resident's office myself to fill out medical records.

At 00:30, I had to go to the bathroom, I pass by an empty ward (we have windows instead of walls so that patients can be seen) and I see a girl tied to a bed, undressed, everything is as it should be, and she looks at me. It happens that patients in our intensive care unit regain consciousness.

I was surprised how it was, they admitted a patient and didn't tell me anything. Well, I think I'll check her out, then I'll go fuck the girls. I walk in, the door is open, the lamp is on, well, I think the girls have overworked it. I go up to her and say:

— Did you join us today?

She to me:

- no.

I think they've let someone down from the department (the intensive care unit is in the basement). I say:

— Now I'm going to examine you and ask you a few questions, do you mind?

- no.

"That's good.

I put on my gloves. I look at my eyes, and the pupil covers the entire iris. It happens after some medications. And she looks at me like that:

"Are you new here?"

I think he asks strange questions, but I answer them myself.:

— I've been working for six months.

"I haven't seen you here."

I was totally stunned. I examined her, the liver is enlarged, the skin is jaundiced. Hepatitis. I'll go, I think, I'll go to the nurses, I'll give a damn, and at the same time I'll take a medical history. I came out of the room, looked around, and she was looking at me with a kind of scary look from under her brows.

I go into the nurses' room, the girls are drinking tea. I say:

— Well, you brought the patient, but you didn't tell me anything.

They say:

"Which patient?" No one was brought to us.

I'm scared, I say:

"Let's go take a look."

We arrive, and it's empty, the door is closed.

They to me:

— What a joke you have, Alexander Romanovich.

I'm not in the mood for jokes. I went to the nursing room with them and didn't come out until morning. And in the morning the manager came, I went to him.:

— Pyotr Alexandrovich, a similar incident happened to me today.

And I told him everything. And he told me:

"You're not the first one to see her." Five years ago, a girl died in terrible agony in this ward. There was nothing we could do to help her. Since then, she has been coming to this ward every year.

I'm standing there in shock.

"It's okay," he says, "she's not the only one." There are more of them, and you'll get to know them again.

Revenge of the orphan

My cousin Sveta got married twenty years ago to a military college cadet. Accordingly, I spent five years with him in all the garrisons before returning back to Moscow. At that time, they lived somewhere far away in Siberia, in a military dormitory, and there was an orphanage across the street from the dormitory. Svetka is very good, compassionate, loves children, and she became attached to an orphan girl. Actually, the girl was not a complete orphan — she formally had a grandmother, but she renounced all rights to her granddaughter and handed her over to an orphanage herself. The girl's name was Nadia, and she was about five years old. At that time, Svetka had a son, but she took care of both children equally. She agreed with the orphanage administration that the girl would stay with her. And they are only happy: a woman with a cart is easier for a mare. The orphans were compensated by the state. As it is, Nadia was unofficially adopted, and the money for her continues to flow into the orphanage account...

In general, Sveta lived with her husband and children in Omutninsk for five years, and it was time to return home. Nadia, of course, was taken with them. Sveta's husband, Zhenya, has already taken up Nadia's official adoption. And it had to happen that already in Moscow, at the last stage of applying for adoption, Nadia was caught stealing from the already meager family treasury. What are the salaries of the military? A scandal broke out with tears and screams, and the question arose of sending Nadia back home. Like, if a girl steals from people who tear off the last piece of themselves for her, then what happens next? My light is in tears. He screams: "Let's forgive for the first time? A child, after all! You're still stupid!" But Zhenya firmly said that he did not want to take any chances. And he sent the girl back to Omutninsk... Svetka later told with tears how she stood on the platform of the station, and Nadia shouted through the window: "Mommy, forgive me!". Svetka was terribly worried. I cried for a long time. I couldn't forgive Eugene.

And then years passed, a second son was born, and everything gradually faded away. But with the birth of the youngest Danka in the family, Svetka began to have problems and troubles. The eldest son, Seryozha, kept breaking his arms and legs, and had three concussions in six months... Like a ten—year-old boy, it's clear that there will be bruises and bumps and fractures, but not in the same amount, and everything is almost out of the blue. The youngest child, as they brought him from the hospital, did not get off the sick leave.: sometimes it's a terrible allergy, sometimes it's asthma (it's a month-old baby), or something worse... Eugene's back began to torment him. The doctor said it was an intervertebral hernia. The family discord has begun. Sometimes in ten years there hasn't been a single major quarrel, except for that incident with Nadia, then every day there is a squabble until the divorce. There was no face on Svetka. I haven't been to work for weeks: the children are sick, and there's no one to leave them with. At that time, Svetka worked as a cashier at the Arbat Prestige store. Her colleagues began to look at her suspiciously: there was a beautiful ruddy-cheeked girl with her husband, a major, and now there is only one shadow left. And now a colleague comes up to her (by the way, Svetka didn't have any friends at work. So, hello, goodbye) and says: "Sveta, I don't know what happened there, but I'll give you a tip: go to your grandmother alone. Don't interrupt, let me tell you everything. This is in the Tambov region, you need to go there for at least a week. And the whole family. I come from there myself, and I have an old apartment there. I'll give you the keys, but you'll need to live somewhere. Anyway, think about it." Svetka waved it off, and in the evening, for some reason, she told Eugene about the conversation.

Eugene just needs to know before approaching him with this kind of conversation: a hefty mustachioed man, a major in the Presidential courier service, the devil himself is not a brother to such a man. I've seen things in my life that a healthy brain can't handle. But Zhenya doesn't care. And for talking about money, you could easily get a two-hour lecture from Eugene about the dangers of drugs. But then a strange thing happened — Eugene listened to his wife and said: "I'll take a week off, let's go to Grandma's." There's a light and a fall, like winter crops. But let's go.

We arrived, settled into the apartment of Svetka's colleague, and the next day went to that grandmother. A colleague warned me that I had to walk to my grandmother. No cars, buses, or even bicycles. Only on foot, like pilgrims. Their grandmother wouldn't let them go beyond the threshold. She said, "Are the children unbaptized? And if they're baptized, why don't they have crosses? Go to the church, buy them the simplest crosses and come back." The church was in the same village, not far away, so they went there and bought the children simple crosses on a consecrated string. We put them on and went back to Grandma. The eldest son walked by himself, and Svetka carried the youngest in her arms. And then, about a hundred meters from his grandmother's house, junior suddenly began to scream in Svetka's arms, squirm and scratch his neck. Svetka turned back her collar, and there were blisters on the spot where the baby's cross rope ran, as if from burns. Svetka's hair stands on end. Eugene is also pale, but he tries to keep calm. He took the child from Svetka and went to his grandmother's house. With each step, the child screamed louder, and his entire neck was already covered with blisters. Svetka even rushed to take off the cross, but Eugene wouldn't let her.

This time, the grandmother let everyone in, read prayers, mumbled, fumbled, the child calmed down, and she let everyone go home, instructing them to come to her tomorrow.

The guys went to see their grandmother for almost a week. She said prayers every time, but nothing else out of the ordinary happened.

On the seventh day, they came to her for the last time. Everything was as usual: grandma was saying prayers, Svetka was sitting in front of grandma with the baby in her arms, and Eugene was standing outside. For some reason, his grandmother scolded him separately. Seryozha was sitting by the window and looking out. I can't tell you any more in my own words, I'm telling you in my own words.:

"Grandma is reading something, I almost fell asleep on a chair, and then I hear laughter. It gives me the creeps. People don't laugh like that. It's disgusting, disgusting, and completely un-human. I've lost my sleep, goosebumps, and I start looking around until it dawns on me that it's my son Seryozha laughing! He was just sitting there, with his back to me, facing the window, and laughing terribly. That laugh made my hair stand on end. Then Grandma turns to Seryozha, looks at his back, then turns to me and says, "Ugh on you! I didn't see your boy right away! If I had seen it right away, I would never have contacted you!" Then she goes up to Serezha, puts her hand on his head and asks, "What's your name?" Seryozha turns around, and then, sorry for the details, I naturally made a puddle: it wasn't my son! His face was blue, his eyes were completely rolled back under his forehead, and only the whites were visible, his mouth was bared, his teeth were out, drool was dripping from them, and he was laughing... Then I screamed. And grandma's going to yell at me.: "Get out! Get out! Call your father!" I grab Danila, I go outside, I'm all wet, God forgive me, I jump out, I shout to Eugene to come in, I fall to the ground and howl with animal fear. A minute later, I hear my grandmother's voice: "Mother! Call your mother!" I fly into the hut, and grandma shouts to me: "Pray!", I also shout: "I can't!", and grandma says to me: "As you can, so pray! Fall down in front of the icons!" I'm on my knees, and I don't know any prayers! And I don't know what to say either. I'm just screaming: "Lord, save and have mercy!" My Eugene is huddled in a corner, gray-haired all over... At the age of thirty, he turned gray in a minute! Serezha, or I don't know who, is sitting on a chair and still laughing like a madman, and those white eyes, teeth bared... Grandma shouts, "What's your name, answer me?!" and Sergei didn't even say, but spat out, "Nadia!" And Grandma says to him, "Why did you put such trash on your father's back, Nadia?" and Seryozha laughs even louder: "May you all die here, you bastards! I hate it!" That's when I lost consciousness, apparently. I woke up on the street. Next to him, Eugene is gray-haired and my Earring, completely normal, only pale and scared. And I'm afraid to look at him. I don't know who's with me now: my son or an unknown creature? Zhenya says to me, "Go to your grandmother. She asked when you'd wake up..." I'm coming in. Grandma says to me, "What kind of Nadia is this?" I honestly answer, "I have no idea. I don't know a single Nadia." Grandma says again, "Remember. There was a Nadia in your life. And Nadia's grandmother was not a good one. Oh, it's not good." And then I got hit on the head by Nadia! Nadia is from Siberia! I immediately told my grandmother that long-ago story. And the grandmother swears: "You fools! At least they could make some inquiries about the girl. She had a grandmother, God forbid she should meet one on her way. Even I wouldn't try to compete. And before she died, she told Nadia everything. And the girl has a big grudge against you. Remember: did you leave any personal belongings for her?" I say, "Well, what kind of things? She took our gifts with her, of course. Am I going to take her gifts away from the child? There were also my things there: I didn't have much money, I was sewing my skirts and blouses for Nadia. She left in them." Grandma said to me, "Well, congratulations on that. She put a death spell on your whole family through your stuff. Everyone would get out, one by one." Then I burst into tears: "What should I do?". Grandma paused, chewed her lips, and said, "Send your father home tomorrow. And let him take the younger one away. You and the older one will stay here. And you will come to me every day."

The next day, Eugene and Danka left. And I stayed with Seryoga. I'm ashamed to say, but I was terrified of my own son. I was afraid to stay in the same room with him, I was afraid to turn off the lights at night. I could still hear his inhuman laughter in my ears. Seryozha himself did not remember anything at all, he said that he just sat, looked out the window and listened to his grandmother's mumbling — everything was as usual. The next day, Seryozha and I went to Grandma's again. She sat Serezha on a chair in front of the window and began to whisper something. And then I heard that creepy laugh again. I almost peed myself again. Seryozha was laughing very loudly, but then grandma made some kind of movement with her hands behind his back, and the laughter stopped. The grandmother was making some movements with effort, as if she was breaking or tearing something off. Seryozha began to scream as if in pain. The grandmother "broke" something for about five minutes, and then she opened the window wide and screamed: "Get out of here, get out! Get out, I said!" And then Seryozha says in such a plaintive and unfamiliar voice: "How am I going to go? You broke my wings..." I howled in fear, and Grandma kept yelling, "Whatever you want, fly! Get out, get out of here!" Here, the window will shut with all its might — as soon as the glass doesn't fly out? My earring has dropped his head on the windowsill and seems to be asleep. His grandmother shook him by the shoulder, he raises his head, his eyes sleepy: "Mom, did I fall asleep?". And I'm sitting there crying, covered in snot, and nodding my head like an elephant...

Anyway, we went to Grandma's for three more days, and then we came home. And I'm still so scared, especially when I look at Zhenya's hair... I even quit smoking, I don't drink anything, not even beer, and I don't swear anymore, even in anger. And it always seems to me that my son is not my son. I also bought a prayer belt for myself in church, and I wear it all the time on my naked body. I'm scared...".

Almost ten years have passed since then. Sergei is already nineteen years old, an incredibly charming and talented boy: a musician, plays in a band, performs. I go to his performances. I love this boy very much — it's impossible not to love him: he exudes some incredible aura of charm. But when he stays at my place overnight, for some reason I don't turn off the light in the room either. I don't know why. And I'll never tell Seryozha about it.