As a child, my mother lived in a village where they didn’t even hear about TV, let alone cellular communications, the wilderness, in a word. The people in it were believers, but superstitious.

A lot of dark rumors went around the village: then a maiden in a white dress appears by the highway, to an accident, they say; then a short old man leading lost people out of the forest, and many other terrible stories.

And here is one of them, the veracity of which my mother was “lucky” to verify and even participate in.

An old woman lived in their village, rarely when she could be found on the street. She hardly left her dilapidated house. She was said to be a witch. But you know how rumors spread in the village...

Everyone avoided her and did not allow their children to walk near her house. But my mother was always creepy about how interesting it was, and she and her brother often played near her house. The old woman did not like that they were sitting on her bench, she constantly grumbled, but did not leave the house, she only looked menacingly out of the window and stomped in place, as if she could not get out. My grandfather, my mother's father, knew this woman, she was an old acquaintance of his family when he was still small. Therefore, the old woman was invited to family meetings.

At one of these meetings, my mother and her sister decided to play a trick on the old woman, as they had heard stories about a witch, and stuck a needle in the door frame. According to ancient beliefs, if you stick a needle into the door frame, then a real witch will not be able to get out and will stagnate in agony.

And so, after a long feast, the old woman hobbled to the door and began to leave, when, remembering something, she clung to talking with one of the guests. From the expression on her face, it was clear that she was not enthusiastic about the dialogue, although she herself tied it up. But she couldn't get away, she couldn't. And when it seemed that the conversation was over, turning her face to the door, she seemed to remember something and turned back with a displeased face, and reluctantly started a conversation. So the old woman twirled, poked at the door for about forty minutes. exhausted look, black eyes, like an abyss, filled with blood, looked as if through them with their sister. It got so creepy. And then the father came up and whispered in their ear to pull out the needle and not to mock the guest. They were in a hurry. How did the father know? And if he knew why he brought this witch to our house! After all, everyone, absolutely everyone, heard that this old woman goes into the forest at night. With a wicker basket, in a long dark red dress. And in the morning, as it began to get light, a large pig came out in a torn dress wrapped around her, and with a basket, which she dragged behind her, scraping her hoof on the ground. The old woman kindled big fires, threw some herbs, objects there, and then danced a strange dance, then just walked, closing her eyes, trembling and whispering something ...

And so we pulled out the needle, she immediately rushed away. Since then, she has not been heard from. The house was burned down by children. And my mother moved away from that village a long time ago. And now, many years later, distant relatives in a letter asked to come, get together with all their relatives, with all their acquaintances. Since many have already died, and those who remained wanted to see their relatives on the slope of life.

Mom just couldn't help but come. After all, there might not be a next time.

She arrived, all the relatives gathered, all the same faces that many years ago, also sat at the table and talked heart to heart. Everyone has changed so much, grown old, only one face seemed so familiar to her that she racked her brains all evening about who it was. It was embarrassing to ask openly. When it got completely dark and people began to disperse, she did not know where to go. Relatives stayed for the night with other relatives, with acquaintances - the following ... And only this grandmother was going home alone. Then she went up to her mother and with a smirk and some kind of mocking and sly look looked at her: "Let's go to my place, will you spend the night?" She agreed, because she had nowhere else to go... The old woman took her hand and rushed off into the distance along a country road, then turned through the forest... She, one might say, ran, which is not very similar to an old woman... And then my mother was seized by panic. She remembered that it was the same old woman! But it was already too late to do anything. The old woman's hand gripped my mother's hand so tightly that it cracked. The old woman made a strange sound, laughing and wheezing, as if coughing. And then the house appeared! She slowed down, looked into her eyes and said: "Don't be afraid of me." The old woman led the guest into the house. Oddly enough, there was nothing scary and gloomy inside, on the contrary, it was quite nice. They were met by a pale, short boy with disheveled hair and a barely noticeable, somehow inanimate smile. She pointed to the bedroom at the far end of the corridor, the boy accompanied her. And, looking into his eyes, he said: "Don't worry, everything will be fine. She is kind."

All night she could not sleep ... It was wildly uncomfortable. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold... The bed creaked...

And suddenly the door opened with a characteristic creak, and a black lump ran inside.

It was a kitten. He jumped onto the bed and, poking into the blanket from his feet, climbed inside and, scratching all his legs, crawled up, his mother took him off and put him on the floor. After all, it was painful. But the black spot again jumped at her feet and began to rush to her throat ... It seems that he is trying to strangle her, plunging his claws, like blades, under the skin, tearing her, making his way higher ... She threw him off again!

But this creature was not going to stop, tore the blanket and climbed again! The mother could no longer stand it and threw it on the floor. This kitten seemed to be possessed! Raging black lump...

No matter how much and with what force she threw him on the floor, he still continued! When all of a sudden it disappeared...

She fell asleep but had nightmares all night. In the morning the old woman called her to tea.

All morning she was silent, in the bustle she ran from corner to corner. Suddenly she asked sarcastically: "How did you sleep?" And she immediately went out somewhere, as if she did not want to hear the answer. Mom, with a tortured look, told about the incident with the kitten, but the boy objected that there had never been any living creatures in the house! And it couldn't be, because the old woman can't stand animals. And then she was truly gripped by panic fear, she rushed out of the house and ran from there with all her strength! And never returned to this village. And now she sits over a cup of hot tea and tells me this truly terrible and frightening story.

After graduating from high school back in 1981, I was sent to work at a run-down state farm in the Novgorod region for poor study. They settled to live on a kind of farm in a wooden house, three kilometers from the main village and half a kilometer from the road, separated from the world by undergrowth. Nearby is the foreman's house (there is a family: a blind old mother, wife, daughter, well, the foreman himself). There was no stove in the house, but there were no frosts either: October was warm, mushrooms were in bulk ...
The director of the state farm sent stove workers to me to put the stove. I go to work in the morning, they come later - they build it. I didn't even see them. I had a dog - a seven-month-old sheepdog.

We moved into a new large house with an area of ​​94 square meters. The street ends and immediately the lake. A neighbor's boy was bought a bicycle for his birthday, he was three years old, and as he was riding, he drove into the lake. It is not clear how, but it was as if some force had pushed him out of the water. He sits and cries, he was afraid that they would scold him for the bicycle, and the men dived for the bicycle three times. The child was stressed, and since we lived in the village, the parents found a grandmother who waxed his fear.

I remembered all this when it happened that I needed the help of such a grandmother. My husband constantly traveled on business trips and said: “If I don’t return before 12 at night, then go to bed, then I’ll come the next day.”

It happened a long time ago in a small Siberian village. This story is passed down by the family from generation to generation. Being in good relations with them, I also found out what happened then.

In the village there lived a woman who dreamed of having a child. The woman's name was Lydia. She was a believer and always went to church services. Among the icons, she spent a lot of time, crying out about her desire to all the saints. Months and years passed, but God did not hear her prayers.

Lydia had a friend who lived next door with her husband and son. They often met with Lydia, and a friend complained to her about her plight. Her husband systematically beat her so much that she then did not leave the house for weeks, she was so ashamed of her bruises and bruises.

Time and place - the nearest suburbs of Moscow, 1957, the name of the village is fictitious. The names of the other participants have been changed.

The village of Pakhnutino rose heavily after the war. It was difficult for the whole country, but here, near the capital - more. All young people are in the city, there are almost no people left on the earth. Anyone who wanted to stay was welcome. The collective farm allocated land, built a house at its own expense. Therefore, Varvara did not have to knock the threshold of the village council for a long time. The difficulty caused, and even then - at first, her demand to be closer to the forest. The chairman was perplexed:

Everyone tries to be closer to the center. Here we have a club and shops. School, finally. Your daughter has to learn how to walk.

These incidents are observed in the village where I live. I have been living in this village since my birth and had the opportunity to observe all this from my very childhood. I must say that our village is quite old. It is the same age as Chelyabinsk, and we celebrate village day a little earlier than Chelyabinsk residents. Once my village was the same Cossack fortress as Chelyabinsk, but that was a very long time ago.

We have a place that has had a bad reputation since ancient times. The place is near the village museum, or rather, it is the former park part, which was once the old church cemetery. But during the Soviet attacks on faith in God, the church was destroyed, and the cemetery was razed to the ground.

What should I start with? My friend told me this story, and her mother told her. In the village to which I moved not so long ago, about 20 years ago, there was one case. Nobody wants to spread about it, but still many people know. My village, where I live, is called Troitskoye, and after about 8-9 km there used to be the village of Podchernoye, but now no one lives there. She is abandoned.

Here is how it was. Two guys came from the city to their grandmother in Troitskoye and decided to take a walk around the village. After wandering around all day, they didn’t find anything interesting, but they heard about the village of Podchernoe and decided to hit the road there on a bike. There were very few people there in those days.

One day in the village I was walking with the guys, and one of my friends offered to play hide and seek in the forest, everyone enthusiastically agreed and we ran to choose a carrier. After everyone scattered different sides, Petya and I ran to the spring.

Suddenly, in the distance, a man appeared to me, and I became a little scared. I've heard about Slenderman before: he's long and very thin, he wears a formal black suit, white shirt and red tie all the time, and the most amazing thing is that he has no face. He also has the ability to stretch and lengthen his limbs or torso.

I always thought that this was just a fiction to scare people with another horror story, but after that day I began to pronounce this name with goosebumps - Slenderman.

17.06.2017

In accordance with the requirements of Google, we cannot publish articles for people over 18+ in the public domain. Therefore, we have organized a closed section for users, in which we write articles of this kind. The section is called - The sexiest stars, and is located in the Beauty and Style section.

28.06.2017

THE OLD WOMAN IS THE DESTROYER.

In a small Syrian village there lives an old woman who is feared by EVERYONE without exception. When her village was stormed by the Igilovtsy, she did not even think of running away. She met them at her house, sitting in a chair. When five terrorists entered the house, she, with a cleaver in her hands...

Everyone considered her the village witch. Or rather, rural. It seems that she was an old woman even at thirty. The nose is long, hooked, the look is prickly. The expression on her face is always the same as if they put rotten stuff under her nose. They were afraid of her, bypassed her. Behind the eyes they called a witch, a sorceress, and even then - an old woman.

The old woman was the first to marry. Graduated from high school almost immediately. How she managed to tear off a more or less normal man, no one knew. Not beautiful, gloomy, tough. Close and at the same time just scary. The man was envious. Well, there, in the outback. And fell into the clutches of a village witch ...

The neighbors whispered. Behind, as always. And they bypassed the cozy house, lovingly erected by a well-chosen husband and no less well-chosen friends of his, working under the guidance of her husband. Simple, but reliable. No frills. Facilities in the yard, as it should be in Russian villages and villages.

It was in such conditions that I was a city dweller. The acknowledged village witch was my stepfather's grandmother, and I had a whole delightful year ahead of me. Life together. Neighbors perceived the appearance of new people in much the same way that sharks perceive fresh blood. City dwellers, what are you. From another part of the country. How can you not run away, but not try to make contact? We are very hospitable...

The old woman, with a broad royal gesture, allocated an entire room for her son and his wife with a child. She had three pairs of working hands. For the garden. Three pairs of hands! The room was cold. And filled with flowers. My stepfather loved flowers. Life in the village, which at first seemed like a fairy tale to a six-year-old girl, quickly turned into dullness with the help of a real village witch and crazy neighbors.

The old woman got up very early. And she constantly went around in circles “her possessions”, making sure that the people did what they had to do. Slept a little. At the time of my stay in the village, she had long been retired. And always at home. Or in the garden.

I remember my own horror when one of the many relatives - an old woman - called me aside and whispered with eyes round with horror:

- Beware of her, this is a village witch, everyone knows about it, everyone! It will bring more damage ... it’s better to come to me more often.

Scary. I didn't like the old woman. And she didn't love me. We walked around each other all year, trying not to notice that personal space was violated. I closed myself in books. She is in the garden. But they felt each other. She felt, I felt. Something between fear and horror. And dislike. Dark personality, whatever you say.

The village witch on guard for the safety of... herself?

We almost died then. In the second half of the nineties, an avalanche hit our region - everyone urgently carried gas to their homes. Naturally, the old woman did not stand aside. Having agreed with her husband that firewood is too expensive, they concluded an agreement and joyfully, with anticipation, installed newfangled pipes. It was expected that now the house will be warm and cozy. And economically.

The village witch did not take into account one thing: the one who laid these pipes. And, accordingly, HOW. Then, when vodka is a younger brother, friend, father and mother, eyes squint, doing everything right is very problematic.

The bottom line is that, of course, there was a jamb. And, of course, there was a leak. Interestingly, it was on this day that the old woman, who usually didn’t crawl out of the house much, went to visit someone. We were found and pulled out by her husband.

The old woman and the alcoholic: Grandpa drank. Do you know how they drink in the villages? To a white heat, to a fever, to madness, to a state where he cannot even crawl. The old woman paid no particular attention to him. He still did his homework.

Does the village witch have something out of her control at home? Is the nose not set to everything? It depends how you look. Ten years have passed. I have already entered the institute and happily did not communicate with her or her husband. I only heard from my stepfather that my grandfather drinks, and the old woman is sick. Yes, I wanted to spit.

A couple of years ago, my stepfather called me. Dumbfounded.

- Do you know that dad stopped drinking?

I sat down because I was afraid that I would fall. Alcoholics with such experience do not quit so easily. It was encoded several times - to no avail. Only money down the drain. And here ... well, next to the village witch, something else can happen, but still.

What happened?

- Mom got sick, she doesn’t walk ... And he stopped drinking to take care of her.

He still doesn't drink. Both are alive. They get sick, of course. But alive. For a long time I did not understand what had happened.

Village witch on the edge of the village - nose in service:

After training in system-vector psychology, I understood. I didn't expect the realization to hit my head, but it did. Beyond my will. The old woman is the same olfactory grandmother on the edge of the village. Witch. Baba Yaga. What visual, emotional, fearful people call "evil." They are afraid of her.

Skin-olfactory women marry early. Very early. They are always like gray mice. Invisible and scary at the same time. Moreover, not everyone is scared. The olfactory vector seeks to preserve its own integrity through the preservation of the "flock". In the case of the old woman, the pack was her family. She understands (or rather, her unconscious) that without a pack she cannot exist. And "adds up" the behavior of family members and society in such a way that they fulfill their specific role.

Grandma stacks pheromones (unconsciously), hence the large number of weddings around and the phenomenon long marriages in the villages. It is in the villages that marriages are mostly natural. Not without the help of the village witch.

Sounds esoteric? But how is the grandfather, who drinks recent years twenty, two years without drinking? A person without upper vectors, calm, balanced, too “simple” for me, who has read one book in his whole life, a musculoskeletal grandfather who doesn’t give a damn about everyone, stops drinking. Although nothing helped before the old woman's illness. Conscience? Skinners don't really have that concept.

The neighbors thought she had bewitched him. Has brought anti-damage or is simply played by him, like a puppet. Who knows? The unconscious processes that guide the olfactory and the people around him through him cannot be “understood”. They can only be felt after training in system-vector psychology.

For some reason, I'm glad I'm not there. Otherwise, the village witch would have laid down pheromones, I would have married out of natural attraction ... and what then would be the development of my sound?

Good day! Once again, after reading the stories, I decided to write my own, I started many times, but didn’t reach the end, everything didn’t work out. My mother told me this story.
To make it clearer, I’ll tell you not a lot about our family, my parents divorced when my brother and I were 5-6 years old (I’m the eldest), my mother found a man for herself, he also has two children about our age. So we moved to his house, and he lived with his mother, the old woman was so nasty, somehow she didn’t like us, well, of course, he took it with two children, at first everything went well, we sort of got used to the new housing, my mother was slowly getting used to it, but her mother-in-law was not happy with her, but she was on her special attention did not pay ... Good day! Once again, after reading the stories, I decided to write my own, I started many times, but didn’t reach the end, everything didn’t work out. My mother told me this story.
To make it clearer, I’ll tell you not a lot about our family, my parents divorced when my brother and I were 5-6 years old (I’m the eldest), my mother found a man for herself, he also has two children about our age. So we moved to his house, and he lived with his mother, the old woman was so nasty, somehow she didn’t like us, well, of course, he took it with two children, at first everything went well, we sort of got used to the new housing, my mother was slowly getting used to it, but her mother-in-law was not happy with her, but she did not pay much attention to her.
And one night, my stepfather was on a business trip, my mother-in-law went to her relatives in another region. The mother stayed at home with two children. Further from the mother’s words: \"I woke up from the fact that there were some rustles at the door (the house was private, the locks were looped), I heard how the lock opened while I got up, put on a dressing gown, I went out, and an elderly woman was standing in the kitchen and asked: \"You won’t say where Maria lives here (that’s her mother’s name) \”, without hesitation, I point to the neighboring house, the namesake lives there. She shook her head and said: \"No, I need the one who lives here\" and points down with her finger. I told her: \"There is no such person here\" The woman turned her back and let's whisper something, then I sharply turn her by the shoulder, and she will take it and spit in her face, I also spat in revenge.
I don’t remember how I fell asleep, I wake up from the fact that my husband came home and grumbles something about the door not being closed, I run my hand across my face, and there is saliva. In shock, I got up and gathered the children, told my husband everything, he does not believe, laughs. I decided to stay with my sister for the time being, it was painfully creepy, but at first I think I’ll throw all the salt out of the house.
In general, I came with the children to my sister, told her everything, she took me to the sorceress the next day. There were many people at her reception, she went out into the street and calls me, I went into the house, everything is hung with icons, cozy and calm. She sat down on a chair and told her story, and she looks at me and is silent, but I think they probably came in vain. When she finished the story, she began to tell me: “You did the right thing by spitting at her in retaliation, now she is afraid of you, but since she took the money from your mother-in-law again, she will come, she lives next to you and you didn’t throw all the salt in the attic look. Not one will come with an assistant, don’t be afraid to drive her away, read prayers, if you suddenly don’t remember when she comes, then cover her with obscenities and she will leave.
I came out of there and told my sister: "Never take me to a crazy person again." We arrived home, back and forth, and she and her son went to bed in the hall, and I and the children in the bedroom. I wake up a girl standing near the bed, a dress with polka dots and looking at me, I immediately remembered the words of the sorceress, I take her by the hand and ask where the grandmother is, she is silent, then I squeeze my hand more tightly, she is still silent. Well, I think now we’ll leave the room, you’ll tell me everything, I’m trying to open the door, I can’t, I’ll pull it even harder, they couldn’t close it because there is no lock. I pull and push I fall to the floor, and that grandmother is on me. Then I prayed it with all my prayers, I don’t know how I didn’t get scared and managed to baptize her.
I wake up, and everyone is quietly sleeping peacefully, I wake up my sister, we look at the door is open, we went to bed, as if they were closing it. After all this, I decided to return to my husband, he arrived, I packed my things, we went home, I tell the story of what happened to me, they already turned onto our street and suddenly this grandmother crosses the road, and the husband says this is our neighbor just higher on lives in a couple of houses.
Arriving home, the first thing I climbed into the attic was to look, and there was a whole bag of salt. She threw everything away. The mother-in-law screamed so that the neighbors thought they were killing her, and a week later my neighbor-in-law came and told me that the old woman was paralyzed.
Here is a story, you can not believe it, but I remember that time, something definitely happened, but the fact that we lived with my aunt, and my mother did not leave the house, I remember everything.

I don’t often visit Syrian villages, and I don’t have many village photos in my archives,

the habit of carrying a camera with you came along with this blog.
Life in the countryside is not like life in the city, people in the villages live poorer, and earn their bread harder. The rhythm of life among rural residents adapts to the life of livestock, and the growth of crops in the field. In Syria, the peasants are not united in any collective farms, and do not receive any salaries, with the exception of a few civil servants, such as teachers (most teachers come to the village every day from Gorda).

In Syrian villages, clans are much more pronounced than in cities, often villagers belong to one or more large clans, it is very difficult to find a person living in a village who would not have relatives in it. Village strangers are simply not allowed to live with them.

The life of the peasants is very simple, in the houses there is usually a traditional "Arab" (folk) interior, woolen carpets on the floors, along the walls along the perimeter of the room there are peculiar mattresses made of foam rubber covered with velor, and rectangular pillows in elegant embroidered pillowcases, such furniture looks quite comfortable , similar to "sofas without legs."
In special niches in the walls, hidden behind curtains, mountains of woolen mattresses, blankets and pillows are stored (and the housewives do not miss the opportunity to replenish these stocks all the time). With the help of such roll-up beds, any rooms in the house can easily be turned into bedrooms, even the largest family does not get crowded, and any number of guests who come to visit can easily be accommodated for the night. In cities, this type of furniture is also used, it helps to save a lot of space (and money).

Syrian villages almost throughout the country have running water and sewerage. There may not be expensive plumbing, instead of a bathroom, a simple shower, and instead of a toilet, a simple floor sink, but even in rural toilets there is always the most important thing - water.

Rural people are much more open and simple than urban people. If you drive through a Syrian village and see a woman baking bread in a tenor oven, you can walk up to her and ask for bread, and she will definitely give you some cakes. Bread in the village of a special variety, It is baked from wholemeal flour, the cake is thicker and darker in color, but very tasty and does not stale for a long time.

I remember one of our walks, We went for a walk with friends who came to visit to the ruins of the fortress of the times of the Palmyra queen Zenubia (namely Halabie-Zalabie) My youngest was only a year old, and I forgot to take milk for him with me. Already on the way home, the child began to demand his favorite milk, no distracting maneuvers in the form of cookies and caramels helped. We stopped at a random village, near a random house, explained the situation and asked them to sell us some milk. Our whole company was invited to the yard, we had to wait until the hostess milked the cow. They boiled fresh milk for us, then cooled it outside in a small bowl, poured it into a cup and handed it to my screamer. The whole company was given milk to drink, and while we were waiting for milk, we were treated to homemade village bread, kefir and tea. My elders still remember that simple rural bread with kefir as super Tasty food once in their childhood)

Some rural photos.
The Euphrates valley has very fertile land, a meter-long layer of black soil, but it is reddish in color.
Plantations are always separated by mounds or grooves to keep moisture in the right place. The fields are always watered with water from the Euphrates, they don’t expect rain here, and they don’t want it, they treat rain like a natural disaster.

Shepherds and flock

rural life

"Modern" tenor stove

rural yard

Fisherman's house, in the suburbs of Deir Azzor

Rural people, their way of dressing is very different from the city

PS
Today, for the first time in all the time of the riots, a demonstration took place near our house and went somewhere farther into the depths of the district. There is a flurry of sharp publications on the Internet from all sides, The worst thing I read about the withdrawal from the truce, declared free for today, everything is still quiet, but no longer calm, it is not known what will happen next and when, rumors about the approaching day "X" when every Syrian will have to decide with whom he is, we go last month, graduation exams are due to start in three days. My friends scare me with predictions of all sorts of soothsayers, I'm not inclined to believe them, but today an innocent message smelled of something evil, and made me even more worried utro.ru/news/2012/05/24/1048672.shtml
I want to connect a satellite, it’s hard to keep up with the news on the Internet now, and whether the Internet will work, and who knows ..