We present to your attention photos that, at first glance, may seem quite ordinary and harmless. But what made them famous was the fact that terrible events were hidden behind each of them. It’s unlikely that any of us think that this or that photograph could be the last in our lives or precede a tragedy. For example, not long ago, newlyweds on vacation were photographed a second before the accident. And if it is impossible to capture death itself, then in each of the photographs presented below it is definitely invisibly present.
Survivors. At first glance, there is nothing unusual in this photo. Until you notice a gnawed human spine in the lower right corner.
The subjects of the photo are the players of the Uruguayan rugby team "Old Cristians" from Montevideo, who survived the plane crash on October 13, 1972: the plane crashed in the Andes. Of the 40 passengers and 5 crew members, 12 died in the disaster or shortly after it; then 5 more died the next morning..
Search operations stopped on the eighth day, and the survivors had to fight for life for more than two months. Since food supplies quickly ran out, they had to eat the frozen corpses of their friends.
Without receiving help, some of the victims made a dangerous and long journey through the mountains, which turned out to be successful. 16 men were rescued.
In 2012 star of Mexican music Jenni Rivera died in a plane crash. The selfie on the plane was taken a few minutes before the tragedy.
No one survived the plane crash
Thunderstorm games. In August 1975, a girl from the United States, Mary McQuilken, photographed her two brothers, Michael and Sean, during severe bad weather, with whom she spent time on the top of one of the rocks in California's Sequoia National Park.
A second after the photo was taken, all three were struck by lightning. Only 18-year-old Michael managed to survive. In this photo is the boys' sister Mary.
It is worth noting that the atmospheric discharge was so powerful and close that the young people’s hair literally stood on end. Survivor Michael works as a computer engineer and still receives emails asking questions about what happened that day.
Regina Walters. A 14-year-old girl was photographed by a serial killer named Robert Ben Rhodes a few seconds before he was killed... The maniac took Regina into an abandoned barn, cut her hair and forced her to wear a black dress and shoes.
Rhodes traveled around the United States in a huge trailer, which he equipped as a torture chamber. At least three people a month became his victims.
Walters was one of those who fell into the trap of a maniac. Her body was found in a barn that was to be burned.
"Fire!"In April 1999, high school students from the American Columbine School posed for a group photo. Behind the general gaiety, two guys pretending to point a rifle and a pistol at the camera hardly attracted attention.
But in vain. A few days later, these guys, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, showed up at Columbine with weapons and homemade explosives: their victims were 13 fellow students and 23 people were injured.
The crime was carefully planned, which led to such a number of victims.
The culprits were not detained, because in the end they shot themselves. It later became known that the teenagers had been outsiders at school for many years, and the incident became a cruel act of revenge.
Girl with black eyes. You might think that this is a still from a horror movie, but, unfortunately, this is a real photo. In November 1985, the Ruiz volcano erupted in Colombia, as a result of which the province of Armero was covered with mudflows.
13-year-old Omayra Sanchez became a victim of the tragedy: her body got stuck in the rubble of a building, as a result, the girl stood up to her neck in mud for three days. Her face was swollen, her hands were almost white, and her eyes were bloodshot.
Rescuers tried to rescue the girl different ways, but in vain.
Three days later, Omaira fell into agony, stopped responding to people and eventually died.
Family photo. It would seem that there is nothing strange in a Victorian era photo of a father, mother and daughter. The only feature: The girl came out very clearly in the photo, but her parents were blurry. Can you guess why? Before us is one of the posthumous photographs popular in those days, and the girl depicted in it died shortly before of typhus.
The corpse remained motionless in front of the lens, which is why it appeared clearly: photographs in those days were taken with long exposures, which is why it took a very, very long time to pose. Perhaps that's why they became incredible fashion photos“post-mortem” (i.e. “after death”). Oddly enough, the heroine of this photo is also already dead.
The woman in this photo died in childbirth. In photo salons they even installed special devices for fixing corpses, and the eyes of the dead were opened and buried in them. special remedy so that the mucous membrane does not dry out and the eyes do not become cloudy.
Fatal dive. It would seem that there is nothing strange in this photo of divers. However, why does one of them lie at the very bottom?
Divers accidentally discovered the body of 26-year-old Tina Watson, who died on October 22, 2003, during her honeymoon. A girl and her husband named Gabe went on their honeymoon to Australia, where they decided to go diving.
Underwater, the lover turned off the young wife’s oxygen tank and held her at the bottom until she suffocated. Later, the criminal, who received a life sentence, said that his goal was to obtain insurance.
Sad father. At a quick glance, there is nothing unusual in this photo of a pensive African man, but if you look closely, you will notice that a severed child’s foot and hand lie in front of the man.
In the photo is a Congolese rubber plantation worker who was unable to work out the quota. As punishment, the overseers ate his five-year-old daughter, giving the remains for edification... This was practiced quite often, as can be seen from other photographs.
At the same time, white officers and overseers presented his right hand as proof that they had destroyed the local cannibal. The desire to rise in the ranks led to the fact that everyone’s hands were cut off, including children, and those who pretended to be dead could remain alive...
Assassin with a sword. It would seem like a Halloween photo, wouldn't it? 21-year-old Swede, Anton Lundin Peterson, came to one of the Trollhatten schools dressed like this on October 22, 2015. Two schoolchildren decided that what was happening was a joke and joyfully took pictures with a stranger in a strange outfit.
After that, Peterson stabbed these young men and went for the next victims. He ended up killing one teacher and four children. The police opened fire on him and he died from his wounds in the hospital.
Dying tourist. Americans Sailor Gilliams and Brenden Vega went hiking in the vicinity of Santa Barbara, but due to inexperience they got lost. There was no connection, and due to the heat and lack of water, the girl was left completely exhausted. Brendan went for help, but fell to his death after falling off a cliff.
And these photos were taken by a group of experienced tourists who, upon returning home, noticed with horror a red-haired girl lying unconscious on the ground. Rescuers went by helicopter to the scene of the tragedy, Sailor survived.
Kidnapping two-year-old James Bulger. It would seem that what is strange is that an older boy leads a younger one by the hand? But behind this photo lies a terrible tragedy...
Jon Venables and Robert Thompson were taken from shopping center two-year-old James Bulger was brutally beaten, had his face covered in paint, and left to die on railroad tracks.
The 10-year-old killers were found thanks to surveillance video. The criminals received the maximum sentence for their age - 10 years, which extremely outraged the public and the victim's mother. Moreover, in 2001 they were released and received documents under new names.
In 2010, it was revealed that Jon Venables had been returned to prison for an unspecified parole violation.
Stories about things that have no rational explanation, about extraordinary accidents, mysterious coincidences, inexplicable phenomena, prophetic predictions and visions.
WHOSE FAULT?
My old friend, kind interlocutor, teacher, who recently retired, Liliya Zakharovna told me unusual story. She went to visit her sister Irina in the neighboring Tula region.
Her neighbors, mother Lyudmila Petrovna and daughter Ksenia, lived in the same entrance on the same site as Irina. Even before retiring, Lyudmila Petrovna began to get sick. Doctors changed the diagnosis three times. There was no sense in treatment: Lyudmila Petrovna died. On that tragic morning, Ksenia was woken up by the cat Muska, her mother’s favorite. The doctor pronounced him dead. Lyudmila Petrovna was buried very close, in her native village.
Ksenia and her friend came to the cemetery two days in a row. When we arrived on the third day, we saw a narrow, elbow-deep hole in the burial mound. Quite fresh.
Muska was sitting nearby. There was no doubt. Almost simultaneously they shouted: “That’s who dug!” Surprised and gossiping, the girls filled up the hole. The cat was not given to them, and they left without it.
The next day, Ksenia, feeling sorry for the hungry Muska, went to the cemetery again. A relative kept her company. Imagine their amazement when they saw a rather large hole on the hill. Muska, exhausted and hungry, sat nearby. She did not struggle, but calmly allowed herself to be placed in the bag, occasionally mewing pitifully.
Ksenia couldn’t get the episode with the cat out of her head now. And then the thought began to emerge more and more clearly: what if mom was buried alive? Maybe Muska felt this in an unknown way? And the daughter decided to dig up the coffin. Having paid money to some homeless people, she and her friend came to the cemetery.
When they opened the coffin, they saw in horror what Ksenia had foreseen. Lyudmila Petrovna, apparently, tried for a long time to lift the lid. The most terrible thing for Ksenia was the thought that her mother was still alive when she and her friend came to her grave. They didn’t hear her, but the cat heard her and tried to dig her out!
Evgenia Martynenko
GRANDMOTHER WALKED THROUGH THE FOREST
My grandmother Ekaterina Ivanovna was a pious person. She grew up in the family of a forester and spent her entire life
lived in a small village. She knew all the forest paths, where what kind of berries were found and where the most hidden mushroom places were. She never believed in black supernatural forces, but one day a strange and terrible story happened to her.
She needed to transport hay home from the meadow for the cow. Her sons from the city came to help, and she hurried home to prepare dinner. It was autumn. It was getting dark. It only takes half an hour to get to the village. The grandmother is walking along a familiar path, and suddenly a familiar villager comes out of the forest. I stopped and talked about village life.
Suddenly the woman laughed loudly throughout the forest - and then disappeared, as if she had evaporated. The grandmother was seized with horror, she began to look around in confusion, not knowing which way to go. She rushed back and forth for two hours until she fell exhausted. Just when she thought in confusion that she would have to wait in the forest until the morning, the sound of a tractor reached her ears. She went towards him in the dark. So I went to the village.
The next day the grandmother went to her forest companion's home. It turned out that she had not left the house, had not been in any forest, and therefore she listened to her grandmother with great surprise. Since then, my grandmother tried to avoid that disastrous place, and in the village they said about it: this is the place where the goblin took Katerina. So no one understood what it was: whether the grandmother dreamed it, or the village woman was hiding something. Or maybe it really was a goblin?
V.N. Potapova, Bryansk
A DREAM COME TRUE
Events constantly happen in my life that can only be called miraculous, and all because there is no explanation for them. Died in 1980 common-law husband my mother Pavel Matveevich. At the morgue, his things and watch were given to his mother. My mother kept the watch in memory of the deceased.
After the funeral, I had a dream that Pavel Matveevich insistently demanded that my mother take the watch to his old apartment. I woke up at five o'clock and immediately ran to my mother to tell my strange dream. Mom agreed with me that the watch should definitely be taken back.
Suddenly a dog barked in the yard. Looking out the window, we saw a man standing at the gate under a lantern. Hastily throwing on her coat, mom ran out into the street, quickly returned, took something from the sideboard and went to the gate again. It turned out that Pavel Matveevich’s son from his first marriage came to pick up the watch. He happened to be passing through our city and came to us to ask for something in memory of his father. How he found us almost at night remains a mystery. I'm not even talking about my strange dream...
At the end of 2000, my husband’s father, Pavel Ivanovich, became seriously ill. Before the New Year he was admitted to the hospital. At night I again had a dream: as if some man was urgently demanding that I ask him about something important. Out of fear, I asked how many years my parents would live, and received the answer: more than seventy. Then she asked what awaited my father-in-law.
In response I heard: “There will be an operation on the third of January.” And indeed, the attending physician scheduled an emergency operation for January 2nd. “No, the operation will be on the third,” I said confidently. Imagine the surprise of the relatives when the surgeon rescheduled the operation for the third time!
And another story. I have never been particularly healthy, but I rarely went to doctors. After the birth of my second daughter, I once had a very bad headache, almost bursting. And so on throughout the day. I went to bed early in the hope that my headache would go away in my sleep. She had just begun to fall asleep when little Katya began to fuss. There was a night light hanging above my bed, and as soon as I tried to turn it on, I felt like I was electrocuted. And it seemed to me that I was soaring high in the sky above our house.
It became calm and not scary at all. But then I heard a child’s cry, and some force returned me to the bedroom and threw me into bed. I took the crying girl in my arms. My nightgown, my hair, my whole body were wet, as if I had been caught in the rain, but my head didn’t hurt. I think that I experienced instant clinical death, and the crying of the child brought me back to life.
After 50 years I have the ability to draw, which is what I always dreamed of. Now the walls of my apartment are hung with paintings...
Svetlana Nikolaevna Kulish, Timashevsk, Krasnodar Territory
JOKED
My father was born in Odessa in 1890, died in 1984 (I was born when he was 55 years old). As a child, he often told me about the days of his youth. He grew up as the 18th child (the last) in the family, enrolled himself in school, graduated from the 4th grade, but his parents did not allow him to study further: he had to work. Although he was a communist, he spoke well of the tsarist times and believed that there was more order.
In 1918 he volunteered for the Red Army. When I asked him what prompted him to take this step, he answered: there was no work, but he needed to live on something, and they offered him rations and clothes, plus youthful romance. My father once told me this story:
“There was a civil war. We were standing in Nikolaev. We lived in a heated vehicle on the railway. In our unit there was a joker Vasya, who often amused everyone. One day, along the carriages, two railway workers were carrying a can of fuel oil, stuffed with a gag.
Right in front of them, Vasya jumps off the carriage, spreads his arms to the side and in some strange voice says: “Hush, hush, lower, lower, the machine gun is scribbling with water, fire, water, lie down!” He falls on all fours and begins to crawl. The railway workers, taken aback, immediately fell and began crawling after him on all fours. The can fell, the gag fell out, and fuel oil began to flow out of the flask. After that, Vasya stood up, shook himself off and, as if nothing had happened, approached his Red Army soldiers. Homeric laughter rang out, and the poor railway workers, raising their cans, quietly left.”
This incident was very memorable, and my father decided to repeat it himself. Once in the city of Nikolaev, he saw a gentleman in a white Easter suit, white canvas shoes and a white hat coming towards him. His father approached him, spread his arms to the sides and said in an insinuating voice: “Hush, hush, lower, lower, the machine gun is scribbling with water, fire, water, lie down!” He dropped down on all fours and began to crawl in a circle. This gentleman, to the amazement of his father, also fell to his knees and began to crawl after him. The hat flew off, there was dirt all around, people were walking nearby, but he seemed detached.
The father perceived what happened as a one-time hypnosis on a weak, unstable psyche: power changed almost every day, uncertainty, tension and general panic reigned. Judging by some facts, such a hypnotic effect on some people is common in our rational times.
I. T. Ivanov, village Beisug, Vyselkovsky district, Krasnodar region
SIGN OF TROUBLE
That year, my daughter and I moved to my grandmother’s apartment, which I had inherited. My blood pressure jumped and my temperature rose; Having attributed my condition to an ordinary cold, as soon as it had eased up a little, I calmly left for a country house.
The daughter, who remained in the apartment, did some laundry. Standing in the bathroom, with her back to the door, she suddenly heard a child’s voice: “Mom, mom...” Turning around in fear, she saw that a little boy was standing in front of her and stretching out his hands to her. In a split second the vision disappeared. My daughter turned 21 and was not married. I think readers understand her feelings. She took this as a sign.
Events were not slow to unfold, but in a different direction. Two days later I ended up on the operating table with an abscess. Thank God she survived. There seems to be no direct connection with my illness, and yet it was not a simple vision.
Nadezhda Titova, Novosibirsk A
"Miracles and Adventures" 2013
Real mysticism from real life - completely mystical stories...
“As happens in some films... We moved from a new house to a very old one. It was just so convenient for us, for some reason. Mom found a photo of the house on the Internet and immediately “fell in love” with it.
We moved there. We started to get used to it and look around... One day, when we had already started planning a housewarming party, I was terribly shocked. Now I'll tell you why. I went out onto the porch in the evening to admire the stars. About ten minutes later I heard some strange noise (as if someone was moving dishes from one place to another). I came back to look at it. When I approached the kitchen door, I saw something richly white slip out of its doors. I was scared, of course, but I never realized what it was.
Several days passed. We were expecting guests from afar. They were going to spend the night with us and we made a small rearrangement in the room (to make our place more convenient and comfortable for people).
The guests have arrived. I was calm because nothing supernatural was happening anymore. But! The guests told me something completely different. They stayed overnight in the same room (in the same room in which we specially rearranged it). The uncle said that the bed was shaking and swaying under him. The second uncle assured that the slippers were “rearranged” under the bed by themselves. And my aunt said that she saw a dark shadow sitting on the windowsill.
The guests have left. They hinted that they would never return. However, our family has no plans to leave here. Nobody (except me) believed in these “fairy tales”. Maybe it’s for the better.”
A story of three dreams
“I had an interesting dream. More precisely…. Some. But I decided not to “climb” into the dream book in order to accumulate my dreams even more.
The first dream was that a friend said: “I’m pregnant.” I haven’t called this friend for three months. We haven't seen each other again. The second dream was also pleasant. I won the lotto. What have I done? The result of the dreams did not take long to arrive...
I called my friend and she said that her father-in-law had died. This means that pregnancy in a dream “gives birth” to death. And my second dream came true: I won fifty dollars in the lotto.”
Cat mysticism or real fiction
“My husband and I live in the apartment of my grandmother, who died seven years ago. Before we moved here, this apartment was rented out to six different tenants. We have made repairs, but not completely. In short, we settled there... And I started finding strange things in the rooms. Either some scattered pins, or fragments (completely incomprehensible to me). Grandma started dreaming. In the evenings I saw her in several mirrors.
A friend advised me to urgently get a black kitten. We did this immediately. The kitten avoided mirrors. And in the evening, when I passed by them, he would jump on my shoulder and begin to hiss intimidatingly, glancing at the reflection in the mirror. And the kitten does not approach her husband at all. I don't know what this is for. I do not know why. But with a kitten we feel somehow calmer.”
Mystical shell
“My boyfriend died. Died while riding his motorcycle! I don't know how I survived it. And I don’t understand if I survived. I loved him very much. With such force that I went crazy with love! When I found out that he was no more... I thought that I would be taken forever to a psychiatric hospital. A month has passed since his death. Naturally, I grieved no less. I wanted to bring him back to this world. And I was ready to do anything for this.
A classmate gave the address of a magician. I came to him and paid for the session. He whispered something, hummed, squeaked... I observed his behavior and stopped believing in his “power”. I decided to sit until the end of the session. And it’s good that I didn’t leave earlier. Fiol (that was the name of the magician) gave me something in a small box. He told me not to open the box. I should have just put it under my pillow, constantly remembering Igor.
I did just that! True, my hands were shaking a little. And lips (from fright), because it had to be done in the dark. I tossed and turned for a long time and couldn’t even take a nap. It’s a pity that you couldn’t take sleeping pills. I didn’t notice how sleep visited me. I dreamed that...
I walk along a narrow path towards a bright light. I walk and hear a declaration of love that Igor continuously whispered to me. I walked, walked, walked... I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. It was as if my legs themselves were leading me somewhere. My uncontrollable steps quickened.
He said the following:“I'm needed here. I can't go back. Don't forget me, but don't suffer either. There must be someone else next to you. And I will be your angel...”
He disappeared and my eyes opened. I tried to go back - nothing worked. I grabbed the box and opened it. I saw a small gilded shell in it! I will not part with her, as well as with the memories of Igor.”
Beautiful story of an ugly girl
“I have always disliked my appearance. It seemed to me that I was the most ugly girl in the Universe. Many people told me that this was not true, but I didn’t believe it. I hated mirrors. Even in cars! I avoided any mirrors and reflective objects.
I was twenty-two, but I wasn't dating anyone. Guys and men ran away from me the same way I ran away from my own appearance.
I decided to go to Kyiv to distract myself and unwind. I bought a train ticket and went. I looked out the window, listened to pleasant music..... I don’t know what exactly I expected from this trip. But my heart yearned for this city. This one, and not any other!
Time passed quickly on the road. I really regretted that I didn’t have time to enjoy the road as much as I should have. And I couldn’t take any photographs, since the train was moving unbearably fast.
No one was waiting for me at the station. I even envied those I met. I stood at the station for three seconds and headed to the taxi rank to get to the hotel where I had booked a room in advance.
I got into a taxi and heard:“Are you the girl who is insecure about her appearance and who still doesn’t have a soul mate?”
I was surprised, but answered positively. Now I'm married to this man. And how he knows all this about me is still a secret.” He doesn’t want to admit it, he just flatly...
From Yesterday, 13:20
It was evening, there was nothing. Or rather, several years ago, on the night of “war, taiga”. At that time we were in 11th grade. We began to communicate well with one of our classmates, Alina, who was a total blast. A person who is not afraid of anything in life (or just pretends to be). All covered in piercings (either 17 or 18 holes, she pricks herself). And I am an arrogant, reckless schoolgirl. Yes, only I have an innate sense of proportion (or maybe I’m just a coward), but if I sense danger even a little in an adventure, I will never get into it.
Now let's get down to business. For as long as I can remember, I have always wondered. Moreover, I understand all these issues quite seriously, study them, and so on. But I’ve been shying away from mirrors since childhood. I don’t know why, but I’m afraid even during the day near the mirror if I’m alone at home. And this incident happened during carols, as I already mentioned.
I stayed with Alina to spend the night. The apartment is large, 3 rooms. And also 3 huge fat lazy cats. Only at that moment did they disappear somewhere in the most mystical way. It all started with beer and Christmas movies. And then at one fine moment it struck my friend’s mind to tell fortunes. The clock shows wolf time - about two in the morning. I started to dissuade her. It's just useless. In general, I had no choice but to start “from afar”, in the hope that my friend would finally abandon this idea.
Mystical stories from real life are loved by almost every person who is interested not only in esotericism, but also tries to explain such cases from a scientific point of view, using a whole arsenal of tools consisting of school and university knowledge in various disciplines. However, mystical stories are called that because they have no reasonable explanation.
Our website contains the most terrible stories. These are mostly scary real-life stories told by people on social networks.
For apples. Village mystical story.
I once went to the village, to my distant aunt. And everything there is based on agriculture, and it was already a bit difficult for her, so she asked me to help. Well, there, collecting vegetables, fixing things, cleaning the beds.
And then somehow, after another round of digging in the ground, I decided to rest and eat an apple. And next to us there was an overgrown field, bordered by a forest, and stunted wild apple trees grew on it. Actually, my aunt also had apple trees, but she only had Antonovkas, and I didn’t like sour apples, so I went there.
When I went to buy apples, I did not notice how I climbed over an arch made of straw. Then it turned out that it was not worth doing this. While I was picking apples, one branch almost gouged out my eye and scratched my cheek until it bled. Well, never mind, it was worth it. The apples were small, but clean, not wormy and strong. And then I turn around and see that it turns out that I have moved a little far from home. He was barely visible through the tall grass.
Well, I started to make my way through the grass. But she didn’t seem to want to let me in, and I also had the feeling that I was going in the wrong direction. I turned around many times - the forest wasn’t even far away! And then I felt something moving under my foot, I looked and went crazy - it was a snake. And no, I’ve already seen them, I know what they look like. And then I rushed through the thickets so much that within 5 minutes I was standing near the house. My aunt saw me, came up and asked what I had been doing there for so long and why in this form.
It turns out I was gone for about an hour. I told her the whole mystical story as it is. She said, well, was it worth it? I said yes - I picked some good apples. She looked at me so suspiciously and walked away. And I dumped the remaining apples on the grass (I lost most of them when I ran from there) and went crazy - they were all rotten and wormy. Then I asked my aunt what the hell this was, and she said that everyone puts up such arches devilry who lives in the field and fools people. She said that in fact the purpose of these arches is to prevent a person from reaching the house. And then I found the snake on the Internet - it turned out to be a copperhead.
Emergency in a military unit. Military mysticism
My father served in a missile defense unit located deep in the steppe. The part was somehow complicated, with secret equipment, secret itself, and so on - to the point that it was not just surrounded by a net, but a concrete fence with heavy, blank metal gates with electronic latches. Near the gate there were towers on which sentries were on duty around the clock. And all around is the steppe. For 60 kilometers there is not a single intelligent creature except the political officer. The “grandfathers” often talked about various incomprehensible things that happened on the territory of the unit - either a soldier disappeared without a trace, or some ensign went crazy, but dad didn’t believe it. But, as usual, it happened “one day.”
And once he was on guard - four people, including him, had to walk around the military unit for exactly half the night in search of obvious or hidden opponents. Did they have a good time (there weren’t even wolves there, only lizards - that’s all the enemies)? and on the last lap of honor we stopped to relieve ourselves at the fence of our home base - literally twenty meters from the spotlight installed on the tower. The tide began to leak, and then the soldier who stood farthest shouted. And he didn’t just scream, but clear signs the fact that he is being dragged away from the others - the voice moves away. All the flashlights were pulled out, they were shining - there was no person. And no footprints in the sand, nothing. Only the machine gun is lying around. It’s clear that they all screwed up, because not a single charter said what to do in this case.
Then they all rushed to the gate in horror, yelling at the sentry, turn the spotlight, look what’s going on there. He turned and said that there was nothing. A clean perimeter, that’s all. By this time the lock was clicked, the gate was opened, and they ran into the territory in horror. It was absolutely necessary to close the gate. They closed like a simple “English” latch lock, that is, with a simple slam. Dad pulls the door towards himself, but it doesn’t close. It’s not like someone is holding it, it’s just as if a stone had rolled under the sash or something was pushing against it. That's when my father completely lost his mind.
He saw that at the level of his head some kind of paw was holding onto the edge of the door. I asked him to describe it in more detail, but what he said was what he said - a withered human hand, gray, the color of mouse fur, with ugly nails. She didn’t pull the door towards her, but she didn’t let it close either, she just held on and that’s it. Dad then, in a panic, yelled at the sentry to open fire on everything that was outside the gate, but when he turned the searchlight, the gate easily slammed shut and there was nothing there again. After this, they searched for the soldier for a week, but no traces of him were found. This mystical, scary story happened.
Night carousel lover. Another mystical story from the village
I have a wooden house in the village, and sometimes I go there to relax. And then one day we were sitting in this village quite big company visiting a girl, we watched “Hipster”.
At about two in the morning I began to experience an incomprehensible anxiety. I remembered that I left the car on the territory of an old abandoned pioneer camp: it is very close to the village, a favorite meeting place for young people, there is everything you need for happiness - silence, the absence of people over 20 years old, abandoned buildings where you can quietly smoke or drink. So, in the afternoon we opened the old rusty gate to the camp, and I drove the transport there; now I don’t understand why it was necessary to do this. And so, taking a can of beer with me so as not to get bored on the road, I left the house and went to pick up the car from the camp.
Player in my ears, great summer night, good beer... I reached the camp gate in about five minutes. He opened the gate and walked on - the car was parked about three hundred meters from them. As soon as I entered the territory, onto the broken asphalt path, along which crowds of schoolchildren walked just 15 years ago, I felt alarm. But this was natural - I must say that our camp is not an easy one; in the 90s, corpses were often found there, which became so not at all of their own free will. Then in the summer of 2001, it seems, some kind of satanic cult tried to organize gatherings there, however, something didn’t work out for them, and we saw them about five times, no more. But it left its mark. In general, our abandoned camp is a gloomy place - strange, and at night, what can we hide, scary. But I, a supporter of rationalism, as usual, ordered my subconscious, which begged me to leave quickly, to shut up, and continued on my way. And within a minute I got to the car, climbed inside, turned on the music and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. I turned around on the narrow path, risking, by the way, getting stuck, and drove towards the exit. Having already passed those very gates, being technically already on the territory of the village, and not the camp, I thought that it was not good to leave the gate open.
I stopped, put the handbrake on, got out and returned to the camp territory, again experiencing strange discomfort, which, I must say, was twice as strong as five minutes ago. So I quickly closed the gate and ran about ten meters into the camp out of necessity. Then I took out a pack of cigarettes, lit a cigarette, turned towards the gate, and... With my peripheral vision, I saw that someone was riding on the old, long-rusted carousels, which were located about twenty meters from the path along which I was driving. At very high speed. It was very dark, but I saw a human silhouette and clothes fluttering on it light color, and his gaze was fixed in front of him. He did not look at me, although an ordinary person should have been interested in my manipulations with the gate. What am I saying, an ordinary normal person will not ride a carousel in an abandoned camp at two in the morning. I screamed and ran as fast as I could in the car - thank God it was started. Clutch and gas to the floor, squealing and the smell of burnt rubber, a convulsive glance in the rearview mirror...
And at this moment the low beam turns off, and I stop seeing anything. Screaming no worse than the first time, I pull, almost tearing out, the high beam handle. Thank God, it lights up and illuminates the rapidly approaching houses. I don’t look back anymore. Having arrived at the girl’s place, where my friends were sitting with their film, I hung out in the car for a long time, smoking, listening to music. I tried to calm down.
I'll tell you what real life and without any monsters and mysticism, it couldn’t be more terrible.
One day I was riding a bicycle outside the city, and about five or six kilometers from the district district I found an abandoned motor depot. A whole bunch of buildings - boxes, administrative buildings, some kind of barracks, substations, and a little on the outskirts there was a one-story bathhouse and shower room made of red brick, a kind of small house. What’s strange is that everything was in more or less divine condition, although the base had been abandoned for a long time. I explained this by the fact that the approach to it begins with a completely inconspicuous turn off a major highway, and there are no populated areas nearby. In general, a quiet, deserted place. The stump was clear, I started visiting there: I built springboards for the bike, had a blast, sunbathed.
One day my partner and his friend and I were driving past the turn to the base in a car. I invited them to stop by for a couple of minutes, show off their “farm”, and my partner was looking for some building materials for the dacha, which were more expensive to buy than they were needed, but they were available at the base. In general, we turned, we are approaching. I should add that by this time I had not been to the hacienda for a couple of weeks, but I immediately realized that someone had been here. Firstly, where the asphalt area in front of the base began, some burnt sticks were stuck. Upon closer inspection, it turned out that these were burnt torches.
Well, okay, some Tolkienists here were waving mops, so be it. But nearby on the road, with some brown rubbish, an entire poem was written in incomprehensible signs - they did not look like hieroglyphs or runes, I can vouch for that. It didn’t look like Tolkienists anymore. Further more. The guys with me were inquisitive, although they were both 30 years old, they went to climb the buildings. Everyone looked, and then one of them saw this very bathhouse on the outskirts. He comes up to me and says - you’ve settled in well here, you even hung curtains on the windows. I thought he was joking. It would be better to joke. All the windows (which didn’t even have frames) and the door were curtained from the inside with thick black cloth, and something was whining inside.
In general, the guys with me were not cowardly - one was a firefighter, the other was simply an extreme person in life, but we all screwed up at the same time. Armed ourselves with sticks. The partner throws a rag from the window with a stick, and we see the following picture: the interior of the bathhouse, lined with tiles, is covered with these same writings from bottom to ceiling, some with a marker, part with paint, part with this brown rubbish, but the walls are COMPLETELY covered with writing. To do this, you need a whole team and at least a week of time. Keys hung from the ceiling on strings. Ordinary door keys, a lot, several hundred for sure. In the middle of the room there was a table with two black cylindrical objects. And in the next room someone was breathing hoarsely.
It’s clear that I somehow didn’t want to go there. There was some kind of ritual with a good dose of silliness, and it was unknown whether this ritual was completed, or they could not complete it without our livers and were expecting a visit. I suggested throwing a brick at one of the cylinders on the table. Everyone voted yes, and I threw. It turned out to be a three-liter jar, wrapped in the same black cloth as on the windows; it broke, and a black puddle of some kind of filth spread across the table. We realized what it was within a couple of seconds - such a terrible smell of rotten meat hit our noses from the window opening that we ran back ten meters - I’m sure it was real, pretty rancid blood, as much as six liters of blood ( We didn’t break the second can, but I think that the contents there weren’t Coca-Cola either). When we got a little used to the stench, a firefighter friend suggested we still see who was wheezing behind the wall. They held their noses, tore the rag from the entrance, and went in with sticks. What I saw completely finished me off.
In the corner under the ceiling there were two pigs suspended, each the size of a large dog, one, obviously dead, was all cut up by something thin - the skin on it was simply turned into noodles, there were no eyes, the floor was covered in its blood, and the rope, on which she was hanging came straight out of her mouth - I still don’t know whether it was a hook or not, but clearly something brutal - the tongue and part of the intestines were sticking out. And the second pig was still alive, twitching its paws and breathing hoarsely. It was hung in exactly the same way, but there were much fewer cuts. I think that she did not make any sounds because she was either already exhausted, or her vocal cords were torn out by this incomprehensible “hanger”. But it made such an impression that I was able to calm down the trembling in my jaw only late in the evening with the help of one and a half liters of whiskey for three.
In the twilight, with silence, a pig hanging by its intestines is kicking its legs, among keys hanging from the ceiling, hieroglyphs and the unbearable smell of carrion from spilled blood. I then looked on the Internet for a description of at least such a ritual: keys, blood, a sacrificial pig - such vileness is not found anywhere, even in black magic. Another unpleasant moment: the blood was clearly not those pigs, already rotten, but whose - who knows. Obviously, these guys didn’t fill six liters of mosquitoes.
New place. Mystical story from Uzbekistan
It's 1984, Uzbekistan, a small town two hundred kilometers from Tashkent. Angren. Death Valley. In fact, there was nothing particularly scary in that town, it was just not a very pleasant place: there were mountains everywhere. They seemed to hang over and want to crush. We came there with the whole family: grandfather and grandmother (on the maternal side), mother and father, aunt and family and uncle. We bought several excellent apartments and dachas at once and planned to live happily ever after.
Five years of quiet and peaceful life pass - the family's wealth is much above average: the mother works in the city executive committee, the father conducts military training at a local school. I'm in sixth class. Well, fights motivated by racial hatred are quite normal. And then it started.
First, ants began to appear in the house. Thousands. And they crushed this scum, and poisoned them, whatever they did, but they continued to trample their paths. After a couple of months, the ants disappeared, and cockroaches took their place. Huge and disgusting, perhaps as long as a finger. They appeared at night: crawled along the walls and ceiling, periodically falling on my face. It was really disgusting.
Tired of the unsuccessful struggle, the whole family moved to our aunt. She lived with her husband and daughter on the other side of the city in a luxurious four-room apartment on the sixth floor of the only nine-story building in the city. For some time it was very good: the whole family watched the video, played with my sister and did other fun things. At that time, my parents were engaged in chemical warfare in their old apartment using a sanitary and epidemiological station and other heavy weapons.
Several months have flown by like one day, and now it’s time to return home. There were no insects. There was a strange feeling of threat. At least for me. Parents, as true communists, of course, did not believe in all that nonsense. But the feeling did not go away: being in the apartment, I felt that someone was watching me. It looks unkind. A little later this feeling began to haunt me outside the walls of the house. You just have to be alone, go out, for example, to buy bread, and you feel a boring gaze on the back of your head. I always tried to be in society, even if society promised constant swearing and fights. Hanging around with my peers, trying to smoke.
I simply could not be in that apartment. I already slept in the same room with my parents. At one “wonderful” moment, my father went to Tashkent for several months. It seemed like an improvement in qualifications, although in reality it was a family matter. As a result, I was left alone with my mother in a three-room apartment. The feeling of danger began to disappear: it seemed that the invisible spy began to mess around, and then completely disappeared. I even started sleeping in a separate room again. The calm before the storm.
I woke up with a feeling of chilling horror. For some time I could not open my eyes, no, I did not want to open them. I felt death was nearby. I still remember those minutes with a shudder. Silence, you can’t even hear the ticking of a clock, cold (in July in a southern country) and all-consuming horror.
A flash and a rumble - that's what brought me out of the state of a leaf trembling in the wind. I open my eyes and see in the beam of the flashlight a figure bent over, apparently in pain. I instantly jump out of bed and run to my mother standing in the doorway with a gun in her hands. A growing feeling of horror - I see a figure slowly rising. When I find myself behind my mother, several shots and a heart-rending scream are heard. Mother screams. Then, it seems, I shit myself and passed out.
I woke up at my grandfather’s house: my mother, pale and pale, my uncle and my grandfather and grandmother were sitting at the table. And a few cops are milling around. After discussing something, my grandfather, his uncle and the cops went to my mother’s and my apartment. Look for the robber's body. A few hours after they left, shooting began. This is a good one: they beat me in long bursts. The robber's body was not found, and the cops, having done their job - collecting the shell casings and counting the holes in the walls, left.
Grandfather and uncle remained to guard the apartment. And then, apparently, it began. Grandfather, they say, was found on the veranda with Stechkin in his hand. Dead. Heart attack. Although my uncle remained alive, he turned gray and began to stutter. And he drank heavily. I drank myself quickly. The next day, not only without waiting for my grandfather’s funeral, but without even saying goodbye, my mother and I went to see my father in Tashkent, and from there the three of us flew to Moscow. I tried to talk to my mother about that incident. She always spoke reluctantly: either it was a bandit, or her grandfather’s inheritance, who decided to take revenge through her children and grandchildren, or who knows what. One day she started talking, saying that she shot at this creature at least twice. They found only one 12-gauge hole in the wall, and my grandfather shot out 2 magazines.
Unexpected phenomenon
Last summer I vacationed in the village. The village is more than 200 years old - a historical place, in a sense, with its own attractions. One of them is a stone road built by convicts under Catherine II.
As a child, my uncle told me that convicts who died during construction were buried directly under the road, and then paved with stones on top. So, last summer, my friend and I went for a walk there at night (my friend wanted to admire the stars away from the streetlights).
The night is quiet, dark, there is a forest around the road, there is no moon. I didn’t immediately understand where the feeling of anxiety, like “something was wrong,” came from. By that time we had already moved quite far from the village, the lanterns had disappeared behind the forest. I began to frantically look around, trying to understand what could have alerted me. Naturally, I didn’t see anything, the forest stood like a black wall around me, it was impossible to distinguish the outlines of the trees, and even where they ended and the blackening sky began. By the way, no red ominously glowing eyes were found either.
A thought flashed through my head: how did we even manage to get so far from the village in this darkness and not lose our way? That's when I lowered my eyes to look at the road. She was glowing! More precisely, it was absolutely clearly visible! Every stone, every plant that made its way through the potholes between them. And this despite the fact that there was nothing around that even remotely resembled a light source. It was then that I remembered the stories that my uncle had told, grabbed my girlfriend in my arms and preferred to get out of there as quickly as possible. I don’t know how this can be explained, maybe it can, but I was pretty scared then.
Children from the Dark
I'm going to Smolensk to register a car. Sunny summer day, in the back seat there is food, drinks, a warm blanket. You may have to spend the night in your car. Smoke breaks, sleep for twenty minutes, sandwich. On the road again. Smooth straight road. A few hours later, customs. Decor. Boring faces. Papers, photocopier. Payment of expenses. Drivers of huge trucks. Cigarettes, queues, waiting. Long after midnight - back. There are few cars. Oncoming drivers politely switch to low beams. I'm starting to fall asleep. I know that in such cases it is impossible to go further.
After a while I exit the highway, I drive off carefully. The asphalt road leads to a vacant lot. Along the edges there is a forest. Bumpy earthen area. I stop in the center, fold out the back seats, and spread out the blanket. Quiet. For some reason I don’t want to turn off the light. I finish my cigarette, lie down, turn off the lamp and headlights. I toss and turn for a while, then I fall asleep. The dream is dark, like the forest around the car.
I wake up to the car rocking. Laughter is heard. Children's laughter, funny and sinister at the same time. The windows are fogged up, you can’t see anything. I approach the window, trying to look at something. At this time, a child’s palm suddenly hits the glass on the other side and slides down. I scream in surprise. I'm moving to front seat. I'm frantically looking for the keys. Nowhere. I pat my pockets. The laughter doesn't stop. The car is rocking more and more. There is a smell of burning from somewhere. The keys, it turns out, are in the ignition. The engine roars. I turn on the headlights automatically. Children stand in a tight line in front of the car. There are about twenty of them. They are dressed in old, Soviet-style, government-issued pajamas. There are black spots on their faces and clothes. Reverse gear. Over bumps, howling engine. The children's figures move away, one of them waves his hand. I fly onto the highway, gas to the floor, flying like crazy. Only now I notice that it is raining.
DPS post. I turn towards him, almost crash into the wall, jump out, rush to the surprised guard, and confusedly tell him what happened. He laughs and tests me for alcohol. He takes him to his place and offers to rest. Wondering where it was. I am telling. He listens carefully, then becomes gloomy and exchanges glances with his partner. Then they tell me that there was a children's boarding school in that place, it burned down in the late eighties, almost all the pupils died. Despite this, they assure me that I was just having a nightmare. I agree. Here, in the warmth, in the company of armed traffic cops, everything really seems like a dream. After a while, I thank them, get ready and go out to the car. On the hood, almost washed away by the rain, you can see the prints of small children’s hands stained with soot.
Obsession
I have been living on my own for two weeks now, because my mother recently died - she was buried by the whole family. I still can’t move away; I never knew my father. A cheerful life, in general, is coming - me and my cat. And it seems to me that I am slowly starting to go crazy.
Yesterday I returned home from work (I work shifts as a packer on an assembly line) at about three in the morning, had dinner with my favorite Doshirak and went to bed. The mobile phone, as usual, was placed on the nightstand at the head of the bed. And so, in the morning they called me. In my sleep I pressed the answer button and heard:
Hey son, listen, I already left for work. Could you take the chicken out of the freezer, I'll cook something tonight.
“Okay, mom,” I answered through my sleep and hung up.
Half a minute later I was already standing over the bathroom sink, washing my face with cold water. I was shivering.
“I wonder who could make such a joke? - I thought. “But the voice was hers!” I thought about it for a long time and eventually came to a lackluster conclusion: well, they were joking, and they were joking, a few idiots, or something. With these thoughts, I went to the kitchen to make my morning coffee.
There was a chicken in the sink. If it weren’t for the morning drowsiness, I probably would have fallen into hysterics, but my legs just gave way. I’m sitting, shaking, but I don’t have the courage to get up and do something with this chicken. And then the doorbell rang. Opening the door, I saw the postman. He handed me a letter. The letter had no return address and no name of the addressee. I go to the kitchen, start to open the envelope - and then I get hit in the head again. The sink is empty! Not a sign of the damn chicken. I put the letter aside, looked into the freezer - it was lying there, frozen, in pieces of ice, obviously it had not been taken out for a week, from the very moment I threw it in there. “I’ll see something like this,” I thought. - Psyche crushed by death loved one, still makes itself felt." He returned to the letter, took out a folded piece of paper and began to read:
“Dear Tamara Alexandrovna (that was my mother’s name), we offer you our sincere condolences on the death of your son. "
"WHAT?!" - flashed through my head.
". in connection with the death of your son (my name and patronymic was written here) at work.”
I fell into a stupor. What happens? A letter comes from my place of work without a return address with my obituary, and they know that she died - I took money from the mutual aid fund for the funeral, and my bosses organized a vacation for a week for me!
In the end, I decided to deal with all this devilry when I arrived from work, got dressed and left. At work, I asked leading questions in the personnel department and in the supply department - not directly, of course, but given that they looked at me like an idiot, I realized: someone seriously decided to piss me off or put me in a fool. After working for a day with such gloomy thoughts, I went home.
I entered the apartment and immediately noticed a strange smell from my mother’s room. Has the cat really gone to relieve himself where he shouldn’t have again? I took a rag from the bathroom, went into my mother's room and actually saw a stain on the bed. I turned on the light and almost had a heart attack - I broke out in a cold sweat, my chest felt tight, all I could do was sag like a bag on the floor and convulsively gasp for air. On the mother's bed there was a red-brown stain on half the sheet. To say that I was crazy is to say nothing.
I don’t remember how I crumpled up this sheet and threw it into the garbage chute - probably this is what criminologists call a “state of passion.” I remember myself already in the kitchen, knocking over a glass of vodka. And now I’m sitting on the Internet and typing this text in order to somehow systematize what’s happening to me. To my right is a letter about my death, dated tomorrow, and to my left is a telephone that has been trilling for five minutes. My mother calls me, and her turned off phone is in the next room. I don't want to answer this call, I really don't want to. But the phone doesn’t want to calm down.
If I manage to survive this night without going crazy, then tomorrow I will have to go to work on the night shift. But I don't want to die, I don't want to.
Younger brother
Once I spent the night with my friends Sergei and Ira after a good drinking session in honor of their wedding anniversary. Driving a car in my condition was fraught with an accident, and he had a large house, inherited from his grandmother, with many rooms. It was a reasonable proposal - especially for a bachelor for whom no one was waiting at home.
Look, our lights are often turned off at night,” Serge warned me. - So be careful. My son is always throwing toys around. I almost killed myself once.
I said that I understood everything, and, taking the bed linen, went to bed. Either I had too many impressions that evening, or the new place was taking its toll, but I slept exceptionally poorly. I constantly had nightmares, it was stuffy (and this was with the open window). At about two in the morning, on top of everything else, I was overcome by a terrible dry spell. And if I was still somehow struggling with nightmares, then thirst forced me to finally wake up and go in search of water.
There was no light in the house, as Serge had promised. However, my eyes had already become accustomed to the darkness, so I didn’t experience any particular problems. When I got to the refrigerator, I took out a pack of cold juice and halved it in one fell swoop. Then I heard a quiet, barely audible child's cry. I frowned. Only Platon, Sergei’s four-year-old son, could cry. I stood in the kitchen for a while, listening, but the crying continued, and Ira and Sergei were apparently sleeping too soundly.
I returned the juice to the refrigerator and decided to see what was wrong with the baby. On the one hand, this, of course, was not my concern, but I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t hear anything, and I couldn’t go to bed either. Following the sound, I reached the door at the farthest end of the corridor and stopped. The crying was definitely coming from behind the door, so I opened it a crack and looked into the room. A typical children's room - a spread out bed on the left, a table by the window, a huge closet dark spot on the right side.
Plato? - I asked quietly. - This is Uncle Denis. Why are you crying?
Someone stirred in the corner. The crying died down.
“Aha, here comes Plato,” I thought and went into the room. Closing the door behind me, I walked up to the baby, who was sitting in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, sobbing quietly, hugging some kind of toy. “Well,” I asked as kindly as possible, “why are we crying?”
Plato remained silent, then said quietly:
There's a scarecrow here.
“Behind,” the child whispered very quietly. I turned around. Of course, there was no one behind.
It’s in the closet,” Plato stood next to me. - Waiting for you to leave.
I, muttering the usual words at such moments that it was all a dream and there was nothing here, went to the closet. Plato remained standing in the corner.
Do you see? There’s nothing here,” I said and opened the door. The closet was indeed empty. I persuaded Plato to go to bed, wished him good night and promised, just that, to immediately punish any scarecrow within this house.
In the morning Sergei woke me up. He and I had breakfast and started getting ready to go fishing. Already near the lake, I remembered my nightly adventure and told it to my friend. Serge remained silent and said:
What? - I looked at my friend in surprise. He was pale as death.
Plato slept all night next to us. And in the far room along the corridor, once upon a time, my older brother slept.
He was found dead when he was four. He said he saw something coming out of the closet.
Bad purchase. Real mystical story
My girlfriend and I once decided to renovate - there was a mini-flood in the kitchen (they suddenly turned on hot water), and the old linoleum became unusable. We decided to buy a new one. We went to a French construction supermarket. There was linoleum in the department, but only expensive. My girlfriend and I are not rich - we didn’t want to spend some crazy thousands of rubles on repairs, and we asked the consultant where there were cheaper solutions. The consultant silently pointed to the discounted goods department.
In the corner of the department, on the bottom shelf, it hung - a thick beige beauty with a geometric pattern in the shape of triangles, soft to the touch. The price per meter was so ridiculous that we immediately decided to take it and asked them to cut off the required amount for us. It’s a coincidence, but that’s exactly what was on the roll.
The first strange thing awaited us in the supermarket - the barcode for this product was not in the database. They wanted to give up on the dream, but it turned out that the linoleum was delivered by a freelance truck along with yoghurts several hours ago and simply did not have time to bring it in. We never discovered the reason for the markdown; the consultant said something about a fire at the factory, although our roll was clearly not damaged. On the way home, the girl noted that it smelled a little strange - sweet and spicy. It was not the usual smell of burning, but rather the aroma of light oriental incense.
We noticed the second strange thing when we had already brought the roll home and started preparing it for replacement. Our cat, a half-yard Siamese, looked strangely at the linoleum, poked it with her paw and suddenly jumped back with a terrible hiss, pressing her ears. Apparently she didn't like his smell. We laughed at the unreasonable animal and got to work. By the end of the day, the kitchen looked great - the linoleum lay perfectly and did not even require ironing. It was even more pleasant for the feet than shag carpet - it was warm. This was not very surprising, because it was July outside the window, but it was just the right amount of warm, as if it was adjusting to our temperature.
At night, the girl pushed me aside and said in a whisper that we had problems. At first I didn’t understand what was going on, but then I heard it: measured slaps were coming from the kitchen, like those that can be heard in a swimming pool. Rare, but very distinct. And another creaking of wood. We live on the first floor, we don’t close the window, so the thought of a night thief arose.
I gathered my strength, took a flashlight and decisively ran into the kitchen. No one, just the wind blowing and drunkards screaming outside the window. Empty. I climbed into the chest of drawers, took out vodka and drank a glass, the girl drank the second. We returned to bed and fell asleep safely.
The next morning, a third strange thing was discovered - our cat had disappeared somewhere. They searched the entire apartment, even the entrance (you never know, she could have gotten out), walked around the area and called her for a long time - the result was zero. It was very pitiful, but the pity was mixed with a feeling of something alien and dangerous, something that sent a chill down the back and goosebumps on the skin.
At night, after a stormy lovemaking session, I had already turned my back to the wall, but my girlfriend couldn’t sleep. She said something (calmly, not alarmed), and I listened to her with half an ear and fell asleep. The last thing I remember is that she got off the bed and went to drink water.
I dreamed that I was walking along the corridor and saw a door, from under which a rumble was heard and a pale pink light broke through. I reach out to it and it suddenly swings open. What was behind it turned out to be so terrible that I instantly woke up in a cold sweat.
It was already morning, birds were singing outside the window and the sun was shining. I turned over to my other side to hug my beloved. The bed was empty.
All the girl’s things were in place, the clothes were hanging on hangers. My friends were silent and said that only I could have it. We filed a report with the police, but the search was unsuccessful. I felt absolutely terrible. Every night I dreamed about this door, I stopped eating normally and going to work.
A week after the girl disappeared, the kitchen began to smell strange. It was the already familiar, but intensified smell of linoleum with an admixture of something nauseating. I thought about the trash heap, but that wasn't the issue. Something reddish-brown could be seen from under the edge of the linoleum. I tore off the linoleum with trembling hands and vomited.
The entire floor under the linoleum was covered with a rotting bloody mess. The worst thing awaited me back side linoleum - there were faded prints of four cat paws and two women's feet.
