Life in a remote village: an interesting story and powerful photographs - koyger - LiveJournal. Life in a remote village: an interesting story and powerful photographs - koyger - LJ House in the village part 2 story
House in the village
I've been wanting to burn this waste paper for a long time. Light the stove with it. But there are still a lot of books in the closet, and even more furniture for firewood. And the coal should soon be brought by sleigh. So let it lie there a little longer.
I'll leave it to my grandchildren. Let them honor us when we leave this world. Maybe some of them will be entertained by these lines. Maybe our personal drama will seem funny to them compared to what happened next. Their right.
So, as the poet said: “Professor, take off your bicycle glasses. I’ll tell you about time and about myself.”
Everything that starts well ends badly. But if everything is bad from the very beginning, then it will be a complete star.
I didn’t realize this before everyone else, but I was one of the first. Perhaps in the first thousand of the country's 140 million population - back in the days when only the paranoid people started talking about impending cataclysms. And even those were ridiculed as city madmen.
There was peace and quiet all around, and I already knew that the mythical beast Roasted Rooster was approaching, and nothing would stop his inexorable approach. I could not share this knowledge with anyone close to me. They wouldn't believe me.
I was only wrong about the cause of the Crisis. I believed in the stories of alarmists and prepared for the depletion of energy resources. I thought that without oil, power plants would stop working, cars would stop working, the unified system of international trade would collapse, and then famine and pestilence would come.
The oil hasn't run out. Did not make it. But otherwise I was right.
My world did not collapse on the day when, in the middle of the December frosts, the power and heat were turned off. Much earlier. Still in the middle of sunny July. When, as usual, I returned from work in the evening and in her eyes I realized that she knew everything.
Oh, if only it were possible to turn back time... - this eternal cry of cowards and selfish people.
“If it were possible, I would be smarter,” I thought then. “And I would not let her know about my offense. I would keep it to myself. For her own good. Unless in confession I would say: “I’m a sinner, father.” without going into details."
For some reason I wasn't surprised. More than once I imagined this moment, replayed the situation before my eyes. With breaking dishes, her scratched face, her hysterics, valerian and corvalol.
But not in any of my visions did she react like that. Knowing her character, I expected to see a storm and destruction in the apartment, but I saw only her eyes filled with pain. And it was much worse than screaming. It would be better if she looked at me with a look of pure hatred. It would be better if she said, “Die, you bastard.” It wouldn't be so creepy and disgusting at heart.
“Don’t worry,” my beloved seemed to calmly say, taking me by the hand. - We will live with you. I'm not leaving, so relax. This is all you need. And love... there is no love, you know it yourself.
You can't prepare for this. The ground began to disappear from under our feet. I tried to hug her (Nastya, not the earth), but she pulled away. I guess I'm a masochist, but in moments of anger she always seemed the most attractive to me. Especially in this short robe. Yes, that's how shameless I am.
We've quarreled before. Almost every day. She's not a good girl at all. But usually after such outbursts of anger there was reconciliation, and we were happy.
And now I wanted her to scream. Or she threw a vase from the cabinet at me. I would have dodged it, or caught it. Yes, even if I got it in my stupid head... everything is better.
But she just looked at me. That's for sure, sometimes silence is like screaming.
I wanted to fall on my knees in front of her and press myself to her feet. Maybe I would have done that if I hadn’t thought about how I looked from the outside. And suddenly he was ashamed of his weakness.
“What am I, an emo, or what? Me too, man. Weak. Everyone lives like this... Everyone does this. And nothing, they don’t repent all their lives.”
Much later I will be ashamed of this shame. She wasn't everything, and I knew it. Maybe those who met me before... Maybe a fleeting betrayal would not have hurt them... because they themselves could have done it more than once. But she was different. And offending such a person is like frying a hummingbird as a side dish for potatoes. No matter how she sometimes pretended to be a tigress, I knew well how vulnerable she was.
“I know you’re good,” Nastya suddenly spoke. - Everyone stumbles. It's my fault. I thought that you,” she laughed nervously, “you wouldn’t believe it, you weren’t like everyone else.” That you are the only one in the whole world who understands me. The one I've been looking for all these years. And you... you are a stranger. And all this time that you were with me, you lived a double life. You know, that prince with green eyes, whom I saw and could not forget, died for me. And I will stay with you only for the sake of the child.
How she loved melodrama, damn it. "Luke, I am your father!"
I was silent, digesting what I heard. You should have seen my face.
Why didn’t she tell me anything even though she’d known for two months? I chose the time. She wanted to give me a surprise, but it turned out that I was the one who did it.
Moral monster...
She wanted that day to be remembered forever. And so it happened.
Those were her last words as a loved one. After that, we talked only about everyday topics, like two neighbors in a communal apartment.
She had no idea how right she was. I really was living a double life. But she had no idea that my second life had nothing in common with the stupid affair that ruined the fate of both of us.
I waited and prepared. I was a member of a secret brotherhood of paranoids.
Optimists still believed in the government and the president (“Everything is fine, beautiful marquise...”), and smart people already understood that the patient was more likely dead than alive.
And while others took out plasma TVs on credit and enjoyed life, these quietly purchased weapons, stocked up on stewed meat, made nooks along future evacuation routes from cities with a population of over a million, and set up settlements in the remote taiga with warehouses of everything necessary for an autonomous life. The most stubborn even dug underground shelters.
The most reasonable and calm ones saw the peak of the crisis as an abrupt rise in prices, unemployment and hyperinflation. We were preparing for this. Others were preparing for global conflict, occupation and civil war. The most advanced cases were carried around with the idea of complete autonomy from a dying civilization. They were preparing to move to the land, voluntarily give up the benefits of civilization and set up a subsistence economy similar to the pre-industrial one. Anastasians, followers of Maigret (not the commissar), crazy ecologists and conspiracy theorists of all countries and peoples. Reading their revelations, I realized that I still had not gotten that far.
I never felt called to farming. And he treated all this paranoid public as nudists. That is, people who are boring all the time because they have too much free time. I thought that I didn’t gnaw out my honors diploma with my teeth just to pick through the dung.
I did not move, even when the federal and then regional program “Village 2011” was announced (the project was first called “Agricultural Evacuation” - but smart officials changed the name because the word “evacuation” emanated cold horror).
Didn't even bother to find out the details. But in vain. They would interest me.
Long-term loans for starting a business. Construction materials are almost free. Rent up to a hectare of land for 50 years for half a penny. Even ten rabbits and three dozen chickens each. All provided that you live in the village for at least 5 years.
Wits on the Internet laughed at this. But the governor, apparently, was not so simple. It's a pity that I realized this too late, when the train had already left.
We had a good time here too. I wanted to live in a city with three large shopping centers, in a house with heating, hot water and an elevator, a five-minute walk from a supermarket, close to a kindergarten and a school where I was sure our children would go.
Alas, no one bothered to ask me.
That evening I went out to buy bread. This was the official version. Of course, not only this. I needed to breathe in the “fresh” air of the street and put my thoughts in order. I need this sometimes, and now especially.
A glowing green dot in the darkening (but not dark!) sky, burning even brighter than the moon, caught my attention.
“A comet in the sky is a sure sign of imminent misfortunes,” I remembered. And when I came home, I learned from the Internet that the comet “Sun-mei” (named after some Chinese folk demon) had actually appeared in the sky of the northern hemisphere. Astronomers noticed it a month ago. But, naturally, there was no danger of a collision.
The damned comet shone like a hundred-carat emerald.
I got so lost in thought that I forgot why I went and returned home empty-handed. My wife was waiting there, carrying my child. And she hated me, although she hid it under a mask of contemptuous indifference.
Naturally, I learned a lot about myself. Sluggishly plucking away, I thought that miracles should happen. I prayed to God that the course of this fireball would intersect with the Earth’s orbit in the right place, and Western Siberia would become the crash site. May it all end quickly. Let there be a lava sea here. Burning up in the epicenter of a 100-gigaton explosion probably won't hurt. Just not to see her eyes.
August turned out to be dry and hot. The comet missed the Earth, and the end of the world was postponed for another 12 years, until the arrival of the asteroid Icarus.
I sat in front of the TV without even noticing how she entered. As always, gorgeous, graceful as a doe. I recognized the green dress she wore on our first evening. She smelled of perfume, the smell of which I also could not help but recognize. Going somewhere? Did you find someone for yourself? Or does he just want to torture me?
Well, she succeeded.
This dacha belonged to my entire family; my grandparents used to live there, and then they moved to the city. As a child, I often went there on vacation in the summer. Still, air, nature, beauty! A year ago, my grandfather gave me the key to his dacha house and said that I could go there to relax and relax. I was happy, because sometimes I want to go somewhere away from a noisy city, especially one like St. Petersburg. A year passed, and because of my studies I had already forgotten about the dacha, but at the beginning of summer I remembered and decided to go there alone to relax. In general, I warned my relatives, packed my things, bought food, threw them into the car and, saying goodbye to the city for two weeks, set off on the road.
It takes about 2.5 hours to get from St. Petersburg to my village. I left the city at approximately 16:00, that is, I reached my destination around 18:30, maybe a little later. The road to the village is still normal, but in the village itself it’s hard to call it expensive. In general, with grief in half, I finally got to my little village one-story paradise. I drove the car into the yard, thank God there is enough space in the yard, and began to unload. But it was not there! I spent about an hour fiddling with an old door lock that just wouldn't budge. I was surprised how I didn’t break the key during this hour, but still - victory! - I got inside! Thus, I ended up in the house itself at 20:00. I unloaded my things and purchased provisions from the car and brought it all into the house. I was terribly hungry after the journey, so I cooked myself scrambled eggs and salad, sat down at the table and began the feast. After finishing my meal, I looked at the clock, which showed 21:00. I unpacked my things, called home and said that I had arrived, and at 10 pm I decided to take a walk through the quiet and very beautiful village. I walked for about 2 hours, managing to meet my two beautiful neighbors (Sveta and Olya), who, as it turned out, were visiting their grandmother Valya. We chatted with them and went home.
This time I got home calmly, because when I left I didn’t lock the front door, believing that in such a village no one would even think of robbing me. When I returned home, it was around midnight, I finished my scrambled eggs, watched TV, sat on VK and at one in the morning decided to indulge in Morpheus...
I woke up at about 2:30 to a knock on the door. Woke up, I thought that I had imagined it, but after a few seconds I heard a more confident knock. I assessed the situation. I am in a God-forsaken village, there are only houses around with 85-year-old grandmothers and their little grandchildren, there are not many men in the village. Three drunks and a salesman Valerka, and, well, an old man, the husband of Valya’s woman (neighbor) Ivan Ivanovich. None of them would obviously knock on my door in the middle of the night. And why? So it's someone not local, but who? After all, there were no lights on in the house and no signs of life, so why knock? And then an even more terrible and simple thought came to me: “But the gate and gate are closed!” So who is this? Conclusion: maniac! Yes, it may be funny, but then I wasn’t laughing!
Meanwhile the knocking intensified. I remembered that there was a peephole at the front door, but for some reason I really didn’t want to look through it... At the mere thought of what I would see there, my imagination painted the most terrible pictures, and my skin was covered with goosebumps... I I wrapped myself in a blanket and tried to sleep. This damn knocking continued for about two more hours, and by the morning, when it was almost dawn, I was finally able to fall asleep.
I woke up the next day to the phone ringing. My grandfather called, I answered. He asked me how I got settled and wondered why I was still sleeping at 12 o’clock. I told about the overnight visitor, and the grandfather, saying: “Strange,” said goodbye and said that he was going to the store with his grandmother and would call again in the evening. I got up, cooked myself breakfast and lunch and decided to forget about the night knock. I thought: “Well, you never know! Indeed, some village drunk was in the wrong house, and I almost laid bricks!” I laughed at myself and watched TV almost all day. In the evening, as promised, my grandfather called, we talked to him and ended the conversation. I had dinner and went for a walk before going to bed.
When I went outside, the first thing I did was look around. Hmm... Nothing suspicious. Strange. In general, I walked until 23 o'clock and returned home. I decided to go to bed and soon fell asleep.
I was woken up at 2:30 by a knock on the door. Deja vu, or what?! This time I decided to look into the eyes of the intruder of my peace (or rather, through the peephole, well, you never know who it is). I stood up and, on tiptoe, like a spy, crept to the door. The knocking continued, but when I looked at the peephole, it disappeared, and I decided to wait. I waited, waited, waited... At 5 am I gave up and went to bed.
The next day everything went according to the established pattern. I ate, surfed the Internet, TV, a walk, dinner, BUT! That night I decided not to sleep, but to wait for the night visitor. I brought a chair, chips, juice and (you won’t believe it) a hoe under the front door... Well, to give this snitch a good whack! And then it's 2:30. There was no knock, I was upset and was about to go to a cozy bed, but suddenly there was a familiar and elegant knock. Knock-Knock! Three times. This is how some well-bred intellectuals usually knock. I stood up abruptly and stuck to the door peephole.
What I saw cannot be described in words! It’s either a person or a zombie, no matter how funny it sounds! Huge, bloodshot eyeballs, half a nose, a toothless mouth, a face (if it can be called a face) of a dark gray color. And this monster is a few centimeters away from me. And then I thought: “No chopper can save you, Zhenya!” Honestly, I don’t know how many bricks I piled up at that moment, but there will definitely be enough to build a brick factory, and there will still be some left over. In short, this creature stood for another twenty minutes, elegantly tapping its long fingers, and then smiling (or rather, contorting its face) disappeared. I stood for another 15 minutes and almost didn’t breathe so that HE wouldn’t hear!.. That night I didn’t sleep, I sat in the kitchen with the lights off and the curtains closed and drank a sedative, thinking about what happened. I couldn't believe the reality of what was happening!
In the morning I still fell asleep, and waking up at 14 o’clock, the first thing I did was call my brother Denis and ask him to come. At 8 o'clock in the evening Denis was with me.
Denis entered the house and said the following:
- Hello, Zhen! Listen, why is your door all torn off? Yoyo!.. What a sight you have! What happened?
I told Denis everything, and he agreed to help me believe that I had no glitches. At 2:30 Denis and I sat quietly at the front door and waited... We waited for him...
And He came! Traditionally, three elegant knocks! Denis looked at the peephole and was stunned. After this, Denis stuttered for two years. The one who came yesterday became even more terrible, he was covered in worms, and his face was distorted so that it hardly looked like a face at all. He didn't leave until five in the morning, and then he started scratching at the door and finally left. At 10 o'clock we came to our senses a little and went outside. And on the door was scrawled: “I’ll still come in!”
That same day, Denis and I packed our things and hit the road to the city! What happened next is simply unimaginable! We received a call two days later saying that our house had burned to the ground. Nothing left. Denis and I almost turned gray...
And then everything came together for me! And the fact that the door did not open for a long time, and the scrawled message on the door. I understand. He wanted to kill the inhabitants of the house, and if we had not left, two days later our two charred corpses would have been found in the house. We told my grandfather everything, he paused and said: “I don’t know who it was, but I know that you guys are very lucky!” Grandfather hugged us tightly. Later I found out that there used to be a sectarian who lived on our site, who burned down his house and then drowned himself. Then my grandparents bought the plot and built their own house. He came to us. Sectarian...
P.S. For many years, I lost my desire for solitude in a village house. Now everything is fine, I live with my wife in my apartment and try not to remember that incident.
edited news Melford - 12-07-2014, 23:15
Misha Petrov decided to comprehend the sweetness of the Jesus Prayer. So, he thinks, I’ll lock myself somewhere far away, so that there are no friends, no telephone, no email. Day and night, prayer, rare sleep, a meager meal, so, water, crackers, and reading holy books.
I hesitated for a long time because of the mobile phone, whether to take it, it’s still in the wilderness, you never know what will happen, but then I realized that roaming does not happen in the wilderness. And I left my cell phone at home.
The session had just ended, this year’s practice could be completed in September, and Misha decided to run to a house in the village, bought a year ago on a bet during a dialectological expedition from a grandmother - for four thousand rubles combined. Misha and his three comrades then won ten bottles of beer from the girls. It was the house of my grandmother’s late sister, and my grandmother was glad to see these thousands, she promised to look after the house, and all that.
Misha told his parents and three other co-owner friends that he was going to visit their estate; of course, not a word about prayer - and the friends were very happy, but no one wanted to go with Misha - everyone had other plans.
Misha drove for two and a half days and finally arrived in Osanovo. That was the name of this village with a house. He knocks on the door of the saleswoman; her name was a little literary, Agafya Tikhonovna, but still she was a real Siberian grandmother. In general, like Valentin Rasputin.
“Hello, Agafya Tikhonovna,” Misha says to her. - What about our little hut on chicken legs? Didn’t it burn down?
What you! - Agafya Tikhonovna got angry. - It's worth it.
And they went to the other end of the village to visit the house. The house really stood, only it seemed a little smaller to Misha this year, and poorer, but still the same. The grandmother opened the door, he entered the house - and there was a smell of some kind of herbs, and they hung in bunches in the hallway for who knows how many years.
It's a bit dark, of course, but that's okay. The grandmother left, Misha threw down his backpack, looked around, found buckets and some rags, went to the well for water, and washed the windows. It immediately became brighter. Then Misha hung up the icons - what to pray in front of? He put the sacred books in a pile next to him and hung his rosary on his hand. He just feels like it’s time to have a snack. Well, what is prayer without a meal?
I got food brought from Moscow, canned food, sugar, salt, and cucumbers, but no bread!
I went to the local store. This is what capitalism means: last year this store was not here, but now here it is - brick, neat, and in general everything is there. And Coca-Cola and Snickers. I bought myself both. But also bread. And then Agafya Tikhonovna comes to the store - she’s looking for him, you come to me, I’ll give you some potatoes, last year’s, big as a fist. And so it turned out. And Agafya Tikhonovna added three eggs to his potatoes - from her own chickens. Then Marya Egorovna, a neighbor, came to Tikhonovna and also called him to her. Misha went, Egorovna treated him to a jar of milk from her cow and invited him to come again.
Misha laid out all his wealth on an unpainted wooden table, bread, potatoes, poured fresh milk into an iron mug, and fried scrambled eggs with abnormally yellow yolks. A grass spirit spreads across the hut, oddly enough, not a single fly. He sits and thinks: “Lord, how good! So I have icons hanging here, and books are laid out, what else do I need? Now I’ll eat and start praying. And I don’t even set foot outside, all this is useless—distraction.”
But after lunch, Misha took out a sleeping bag, laid it out right on the floor and fell asleep like a log. He wakes up, and his conscience torments him - you keep sleeping and eating, but what about the Jesus Prayer, why did you come here? But the rosary got caught somewhere, it got in the way on his hand, and Misha was embarrassed to go out with it, he took it off before going to the store, but he didn’t remember where it went. I searched, I searched, I found. We ended up in the hallway, on a carnation, I forgot how I hung it. Finally, he quietly stood in front of the icons, lit the lamp, everything was as it should be. Suddenly it got dark outside, it began to rain, and - wow! - the ceiling, just above the holy corner, began to darken - water was passing through, the roof was leaking.
As soon as the rain stopped, Misha hurried to the roof, one rung on the stairs broke off, he could barely climb up, and everything there really rotted... In general, there was enough to do, and Misha, despite being a boy from an intelligent family, took on everything, did everything willingly, and he helped the grandmothers a lot, and ran his own farm, he felt like a master, a simple man in his native land, Lev Nikolaevich in the late period.
Well, what about prayer? But everything was fine anyway. Misha returned tanned and even a little fatter. Agafya Tikhonovna and Marya Egorovna fattened him up properly.
House in the village (story).
This story, as I currently plan, will become the forerunner of my first novel, with the same name. Initially, I conceived it as a novel, but I decided not to risk it and describe the emerging idea with other characters and in a different setting. If everything goes according to my plan, then after a few stories I will begin writing a novel based on this story. As they say, wait and see.
And this is my older brother Lyosha,” Nadya introduced the guy who entered the apartment.
He was tall, so he had to bend down a little when entering the room. Nadya did not always understand why he did this, but assumed that it was connected with his hobby. In those places where he often had to film his videos, the doors were small, so with his height, Lyosha could not easily go there. True, she had one more assumption, and she was leaning towards it more and more often: when Lyosha entered a room in which there were many girls, he constantly tried to attract their attention to his height and thereby took the first step towards acquaintance.
“Hey, little one,” the man who entered hugged her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.
Nadya laughed and lightly pushed him on the shoulder. She knew that her brother had started his game of attracting attention to himself and his action had no other meaning. When they met, he rarely kissed her, since since childhood he had told her that he was afraid of contracting dwarfism from her. Nadya's height was only about fifty-two meters, which, in comparison with her brother's ninety-meter height, simply made her look like a midget against the background of a giant. She didn’t see anything funny or shameful about her height, but compared to her brother, she periodically had a complex about it. Naturally, when Lyosha teased her, she was ready to kill him, which she repeatedly informed everyone around. This difference in external data was explained by the fact that they were not siblings. Their parents lost their significant other to incurable diseases. It was on this basis that they met more than ten years ago, creating a strong family of four people. The family never had children together, so the children grew up together, getting used to their new relatives.
Lyosha patted her on the shoulder, ruffled her hair, which fell to her shoulders, and looked around. Five pairs of eyes looked at him, not counting his sister, and only two people, it seemed to him, recognized him as a well-known video blogger in some circles. It was difficult to confuse him, since the scar that crossed his entire right cheek was a very memorable feature. This scar was received in childhood, when he and one of his childhood friends, after watching enough films about midshipmen, played at his house. It just so happened that Lesha’s mother went to her neighbor’s, leaving them alone for ten minutes and they couldn’t think of anything better than picking up real knives. The fencing process was short-lived and an hour later Lyosha was already in the hospital, drenched in the tears of his mother, who was sitting next to him, in the operating room. Now this scar was known to each of his half a million subscribers on the famous video portal.
The girls giggled. Lyosha remembered that today, taking advantage of the absence of her parents at home, Nadya invited her institute friends to “purely female gatherings.” Well, yes, they definitely don’t have enough guys here, but that was a plus for Alexey. He noticed that one of the girls did not look away from him, as the others did, attracted by his sister. This one continued to look at him for a few more seconds, so he identified the victim for today.
The girls, their entire cast of future economists, moved to the kitchen, and Lyosha took a seat at his computer. He was finishing a video shot by his friend and part-time operator of his blog, Rodion. They were announcing their next foray into places where most people would not want to be. These were cemeteries, haunted houses, witch glades and other places that had a bad reputation. The purpose of their videos has always been one thing: to show the horror of what terrified people so much. Most of their spectators were young people, but there were also older people. They were all united by an interest and love for supernatural things that occur in our lives, and Lyosha and Rodion gave them the opportunity to touch this. Three times Lyosha had to become the hero of a TV show, acting as an expert in the field of the unknown, so his face was familiar to many people, and he did not suffer from a lack of attention. But, nevertheless, he has not yet met his “one”, maybe precisely because of this very attention of young females.
The video was almost ready last night, but he decided to go to bed a little early, so he had to finish it today after university. Half an hour of working with the video and the finished recording is sent to his channel. As he knew in advance, literally ten minutes later the first hundreds of views and the first comments appeared. Few people knew about the place where they were going to go this time, but the three-minute video colorfully described everything. They were going to go to Bolshaya Rogan, on one of the streets of which their goal was located. An old, dilapidated one-story building with rickety clay walls had been waiting to meet them for a couple of months, but the friends did not have time to get to it. Now the time has come for this construction of the late fifties of the twentieth century. Almost seventy years separated them from the construction of this private house to their time, so for the guys it was almost an eternity, receding into history.
Lyosha watched his video himself and made some notes for himself as he watched and read the comments. This was his regular activity after posting the material, since now, while doing this simple work, he was looking for flaws that would need to be removed when preparing the full material.
Are you getting views? - a girl’s voice came from behind.
Lyosha jumped in place in surprise, dropping the pencil from his hand. The notebook also fell to the floor and covered the leg of the girl standing next to it. There was a slight laugh and thin female hands reached out to the notepad. Lyosha looked back sharply and saw the girl who had been looking at him for the longest time after he returned home.
What? Did you ask something? - Lyosha, from unexpected fear caused by a stranger creeping up in the silence, could not speak normally. What frightened him most about this was that the girl might think that he was worried about her presence.
I subscribed to your channel and I received a message that you added a new video. So I decided to go and see the mystery of what is happening in this room, which is the holy of holies of your genius.
She uttered the last words with a smile on her lips, so Lyosha could not help but laugh. The girl also laughed, and her light, ringing laugh drowned out his bass sound.
You see... What's your name?
The strangest way of dating that I can only remember in my life,” she smiled again, “but you almost guessed it without knowing it.” My name is Lilya.
It’s very nice, and I’m Lyosha. But I think you already know this. So, Lilya, this is no longer the “holy of holies”, since today you have desecrated this place with your presence.
The girl widened her eyes and was about to say something, but Lyosha raised his index finger, urging her to be silent and listen carefully.
So, as I said, you have desecrated this place, and I know only one way to clean it. Do you know which one? Of course you do! There's blood to be shed here. Pure blood, if you know what I mean.
“You’re kidding,” Lily’s eyes were still round in surprise.
Of course not. But there is another, interesting and no less cool way to atone for your guilt.
Which one is this? - the girl looked intently into his eyes. He held his gaze firmly, so Lyosha felt like these eyes were squeezing his heart like a vice.
And hello to everyone, dear friends! You are on the "Hiniri" channel! And this is my first video in this genre! I'll try to spend the night in one fiercely super-mega scary place! Before that, I made horror videos, but no matter how you look at it, there are fewer and fewer interesting horror films and they have become boring and have ceased to be scary. That’s why I decided to tickle my and your nerves! Enjoy watching!
Well, we arrived at the place. There are still 100 meters to walk to this house, but I’m already scared. I came to shoot late at night, so the atmosphere is so heavy. It's good that the moon is shining brightly. It won't be so scary.
I took with me a smartphone, how could I live without it, a 10400 power bank, a camera with night vision, batteries so that the camera wouldn’t run out, a flashlight just in case, some water and a couple of sandwiches, as they say, a normal video won’t work on an empty stomach. Okay, for now I’ll tell you the story of how I got to this damn place. While I was driving here, in the village, not far from this house, there were very strange sayings and proverbs, they still make my hair stand on end. And also the people themselves are kind of strange. As I passed near them, they looked at me without stopping. All this can still be tolerated, but even the language is different from Russian, I don’t understand, maybe this is some kind of flash mob or someone decided to make fun of me, but still this is a Russian village! You can get to the city in just a couple of hours! Maybe they have such a dialect, but.... It's just terrible.... Okay, it was scary, but what happened then... this... I can't describe how crazy it is! When I asked about this house, they either shouted something at me, in the same incomprehensible language, or they took something in their hands, be it a stick or an ax, and practically threw it at me! This is just crazy! One old woman hit my camera with a stone and broke it, the recording from the village was not preserved, I will try to restore it when I get home. It’s good that I took 2 cameras... In general, I had to look for this house myself. And only a couple of hours ago I found her. By the time I got ready to record, it was already dark. Well.... It will be more atmospheric.
Now we are already at the house. He really is creepy! By the way, as I noticed, the villages don’t use light! At all! There is wiring though! And the light can work! If you remember, they were always in the shade and did not go out into the sunlight. It’s strange why I didn’t notice this before... But oh well. By the way, I completely forgot about this house, from what I found out on the Internet, a family from the village lived here, but it was not an ordinary family, but a family of sorcerers of the village. They also wrote there that this is an ordinary Russian village in which there is a family of sorcerers, but then, for some reason, people from the village killed the entire family. I don't know the reason why they were killed. But these sorcerers had a fairly high reputation. They came from the city to check on them. But in the end they were simply killed. Yes, it's an unpleasant story. But the killer or killers were never found. But since then, people in the village have changed so much, as I said before. This story happened 20 years ago, but the house looks 50 years old... A scary house. Very scary... This house stands alone in a field. There is not a single tree around. Why haven't I seen him before? During the day it should be very noticeable, as if on some kind of pedestal, maybe I was just a fool and wandered around? I somehow didn’t even want to go into it, but I’ll hate myself all my life if I don’t go into it. I haven't felt this eerie feeling in so long. Yes, straight butter. I felt a sensation... But the house is really creepy! I don’t do anything like that... But this has already happened, well, you understand me. Okay, let's come closer. So, as I look, all the windows are boarded up with boards, in some places they have already begun to rot, but it is clear that someone is replacing these boards. It’s strange, maybe the locals have this custom. Uhh... I remembered about them and it gives me goosebumps... The door is also boarded up. Mlyn, why didn’t I take any of the tools? Just a knife and that’s it... I’ll go around the house and look from behind, maybe there will be a passage, although it’s unlikely. I tried to tear off the rotten board, but apart from a broken nail I got nothing, and the knife also turned out to be useless.
Yeah... There's nothing here, why am I such a fool??? I should have at least taken some pliers. I'm ashamed of myself... Why do people look down on a fool like me? Eh.. Forgive these nerves... Okay, because I’m such a fool, I’ll have to go to the village and take tools from the residents. I hope they won’t be offended, although looking at their behavior it seems to me that it’s better if they don’t notice me, otherwise I’m afraid of them, what if they want to throw knives at me? Well them. It’s better to sneak in, take it, and then leave it somewhere in the village in the morning. And leave. I will do so.
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