Scary stories are called scary because they make you scared, you know? - Baba Yaga explained, - The listener involuntarily puts himself in the place of a participant in these events. Got it?
“Not really,” Bayun grumbled, “Why isn’t my story scary?”
I didn't say she wasn't scary. But personally, I don’t get scared when I hear a story about a girl who broke a three-liter jar of sour cream.
Explain.
Let me explain,” Yaga nodded, “If you hear a story in which someone broke a bottle of vodka, will you be scared?”
No,” Bayun winced, “Vodka is disgusting.”
But Ivan and Koshchei will be scared. Very very! They will even grab their heads. Do you know what I mean?
Bayun scratched his paw behind his ear.
Now I understand. Stories in which the essence comes down to the damage of a product will be scary to those who love this very product. For me - sour cream, for Ivan and Koshchei - vodka.
“Good girl,” Yaga praised, “Now let’s do it again.” You can leave the girl as the main character - the events that happen to someone innocent and defenseless will make the listener worry more than usual.
“I understand,” Bayun nodded importantly, “So, there lived a girl who one morning hacked to death the Beast...
Stop! Events must be scary!
Do you think the Beast had fun?
How difficult it is with you,” Yaga sighed, “Such a story will only scare Monsters.” And some will start to be afraid of little girls, just in case. A scary story should be scary for everyone! It should be creepy and sinister! Understand?
Of course,” Bayun snorted, “How do you like this beginning of the story: “one night a girl hacked someone to death in an ominous fog.” A? Everyone will be scared.
And why is that?
So it’s not known who exactly she hacked to death there.
Why the fog?
Adds mystery. Every scary story must have some fog.
The girl who chops up the Monsters doesn’t look naive and defenseless,” Yaga said. “Let me come up with a scary story for you now so that you understand what I mean.”
Try it,” Bayun nodded mockingly.
Yaga thoughtfully rubbed the wart and sat down in a chair.
One day a little girl was returning home from her grandmother. The hour was late, the rays of the sun were becoming dimmer, and the darkness was becoming blacker.
What about the fog?
When the girl approached the forest through which she had to go, it became completely dark,” Yaga continued. “As soon as she took two steps through the forest, she found herself in a thick fog, through which she could not even see her hands. But the girl knew that she needed to go straight, and then she would come out to her house - so she put her hands forward so as not to hit the tree, and walked.
“I’m not scared,” Bayun snorted, “Will she kill someone in the fog?”
Very soon the girl came out to her house and was so happy that she was not even surprised that the fog was left behind. She went into the house and saw an old man and an old woman there, looking at her with eyes full of horror. “Who are you?” she asked. “We are your parents,” answered the old man. The girl did not believe them, because her parents were young and could not grow old in one evening. “I was only gone for a few hours!” - she said. “No, daughter, you disappeared fifty years ago,” the old woman answered with tears. The girl got scared and also cried, she was very scared. “Don't cry, daughter. Now you have been found and everything will be fine,” the old man told her. They laid her on the bed and she fell fast asleep.
Unusual, but not scary.
And at night, the old man and the old woman built a huge fire on the street,” Yaga winked. “An evil spirit is mocking us,” the old woman convinced the old woman, “he came to us in the guise of our missing daughter to break our spirit and our faith, but I saw through him. Take the rope and tie him up before he wakes up. We won't let him bully us anymore. And don’t listen to what he will shout at you - this is another deception.”
So stop! - Bayun waved his paws, - This is too much! This is not an evil spirit!
But it's scary, isn't it? - Yaga grinned, - And there was no need to chop anyone, and the sour cream was intact.
Come on with such scary stories, grandma. You can scare people, but you need to know when to stop! As soon as I imagine it, even the tail begins to tremble!
I recently met with an old school friend, Slavik. Having learned about my interest in all sorts of unusual incidents in life, he told this story...
According to Slava, this incomprehensible epic began back in those distant years, when he was an eighth-grader at a Novosibirsk secondary school.
One day, during the New Year holidays, a friend from a small Ural town came to stay with him. New Year then it began in Novosib with wild frosts of about forty. Although the Siberian and Ural boys are not afraid of the cold, in such weather they could not for a long time skate a puck on the ice ringing from the bitter cold. Therefore, willy-nilly, Slavka and his Ural friend Vasya had to hang around at home.
In those days, the kids had neither computers, nor smartphones with tablets, nor color TVs with a bunch of films and programs to channel their ebullient energy in a safe direction. So the boys were languishing with boredom, sitting in a large apartment and having already played hide and seek and simple board games.
But soon, locked in the cold and in a confined space, the boys found entertainment for themselves. Having opened the thick phone book, we sat down by the phone and started calling everyone at random to wish them a Happy New Year. Fortunately, both of Slavka’s parents are at work and there is no one to stop the bully.
Guest Vaska especially liked this entertainment. At home, in the two-story barracks where his family lived, there was no trace of such miracles of civilization as a telephone. Again, there is a chance to meet a city chick. To show off later in front of your Ural friends...
In the directory, in addition to telephone numbers and addresses, the full names of subscribers were written down. So the boys mainly chose female names. Well, they didn’t disdain funny names either, in order to tell some unsightly joke to the unsuspecting poor guy who answered the phone. If the last name is Ubei-Volk or Golopupenko, you will always find something to say and something to “amuse” the person!
Having harmless fun in this manner, the guys dialed another number. Slavka’s telephone at home had an additional receiver, so both could listen and talk at the same time.
At the other end of the line to Vaskino, a greeting “Hello! Happy New Year! I wish you happiness in your personal life... etc.” a young female voice answered:
Thank you!!! It’s so nice to hear this!.. Who are you?..
It should be noted here that the boy Vaska, who grew up on the outskirts of a small Ural town, in civilized Novosibirsk had a worsened provincial complex. In addition, the name Vasya, so rustic in appearance, embarrassed him a little. So, in conversations with the girls and girls who answered, he introduced himself either as Ruslan, or Timur, or something else, but not by his real name. And to this girl, who answered affably, he called himself another beautiful pseudonym invented on the fly.
And the girl turned out to be the same one, as indicated in the phone book - Lyudmila Sukhorukova.
My comrade Slavka remembered this last name and first name. Moreover, as it turned out many years later, the first prophecy sounded in them even then. But more on that later...
In short, Vaska talked with the very romantic and sociable Lyudmila for two hours. And then, having abandoned the phone book with other numbers, all the subsequent days of the holidays he began to call only her. Even when the weather got better, and Slavka and the other guys dragged him to the street, Vasek was looking for any reason to return home. And there he immediately turned the dial on the phone and dialed the number of his beautiful stranger.
Of course, oh, how he wanted to meet the mysterious Lyudochka! But, firstly, she lived very far away, somewhere near the Tolmachevo airport. And secondly, Vaska turned out to be terribly shy. Moreover, from her voice it seemed that she was about twenty years old. Those. five years older than the boy in love, or even more.
In general, they didn’t have a goodbye, and the holidays were ending. Just before leaving, Vaska decided to tell Lyudmila his real name, and at the same time offer to exchange addresses in order to correspond.
But for some reason this time the conversation between the lovebirds did not go well. Slavka hung on a parallel tube and heard. Like a friend, he was either strainedly silent or talking hopeless nonsense. Where did all his sparkling jokes with which he bombarded the girl before go?..
Finally, after another long pause, Vaska, for no apparent reason, blurts out in a trembling voice:
Luda, I love you!!!..
Slavka even covered his mouth so as not to neigh.
But what happened next became a bolt from the blue for both boys...
After Vaska’s words, at first there was silence on the other end of the line, and then there was a creaky and most disgusting old woman’s laugh!!! This terrible laughter continued for a minute, and then the same disgusting, grinding voice said:
Do you know how old I am, Vasyatka?!..
And again at the other end they burst into hoarse old lady laughter.
But the dumbfounded boys were not laughing at all. And quite the opposite. A feeling of unimaginable horror gripped both of them. There is no need to even say that Vasily, who was already slowing down that day, was completely speechless. And the telephone receiver simply fell out of my hands.
How did they find out his name at the other end?!!!
Neither he himself nor his friend Slava said it!..
And what kind of old witch is this that sweet-voiced Lyudochka suddenly turned into?!!
Having come to their senses a little, the boys decided to run to Slavka’s classmate and ask her to dial Lyudmila’s number. They no longer dared to do it themselves.
The girl responded to a simple request and called the specified number. To the question: “Please call Lyudmila Sukhorukova to the phone,” I heard a creaky old woman’s voice answer:
I'm listening to…
To say that the boys were puzzled is to say nothing. Vaska is especially crushed in his pure youthful dreams. Until his departure, he walked around as if submerged, having stopped even smiling. Slavka’s parents even became worried: were he sick?
And the next day he was escorted to the train and sad Vasek went home to the Urals.
Fate decreed that friends Slavka and Vaska after those New Year holidays haven't seen each other for many, many years. At first they corresponded, and then it was interrupted. In their rare letters, none of them recalled the unpleasant episode with Lyudmila Sukhorukova...
But the ways of the Lord are inscrutable, and it often happens that former acquaintances scattered across different corners of the earth are unexpectedly brought together again by some incomprehensible force of chance.
So the paths of adults, Stas and Vasily, crossed in the same Black Sea sanatorium, almost four decades later.
Slavka went to this cultural and recreational institution to visit his friends. Here I came across Vaska, who was vacationing on a preferential social package. Despite the age that had changed the appearance of both, the men immediately recognized each other. As usual, we sat down to celebrate the meeting. Over a “cup of tea,” Vasily told his childhood friend his further story. Whether she was connected with that same Lyudmila or not, decide for yourself...
After returning home from Novosibirsk on New Year’s, although not immediately, Vasya gradually forgot the stranger Lyudmila who had so excited his boyish soul.
I joined the army. Got married. I waited for the child. But, unfortunately, the little daughter did not live long. Before she was even a year old, she died from some kind of illness. Afterwards, he and his wife tried several more times to have children, but it didn’t work out for various reasons. And then, the still young spouses ran away completely.
After the divorce, Vaska lived civil marriage with several women, but it never worked out seriously with anyone. He was never a homebody: either with friends in the garage, or in the forest to pick berries and mushrooms. There are few housewives who will humbly look at an eternally absent man. Yes, even wash his good-for-nothing and take care of him. Here he was last years Vaska without a woman. But he is his own boss. If he wanted, he knocked over a little with the men; if he wanted, he went fishing or picked mushrooms.
On one of these forest hikes, he witnessed a strange and even terrible episode. As often happened, I went for mushrooms alone. The places have long been found, there is no particular need for company here. I quickly filled the duty bucket and went home.
Having already decided to return to the stop by train, I suddenly heard sounds incomprehensible to the forest thicket. It's like a chicken clucking. It's so loud! Has someone really wandered into the thicket and gotten lost?!..
I followed the sound of cackling and soon saw a small opening behind the pines and fir trees. As he got closer he paused. A very unexpected picture emerged. In a small forest patch there stood a huge old stump. A dozen strong redheads stuck out on its mossy surface. And a completely naked old woman was skipping around the stump! It was not very clear from behind the trees, but it seemed to Vasily that the grandmother was at least ninety, or even hundreds of years old. The skin is yellow, wrinkled and covers the ridge of the spine and convex r?
Sconce. Gray haired long hair loose, dangling back and forth from her jumps. Therefore, the face cannot be made out properly. Most of all, the crazy grandmother resembled a dancing skeleton.
In one bony hand the old woman clutched a knife, and in the other she held tightly a black rooster with a small fleshy comb by both paws. Where she got the rooster in the forest remained a mystery, but Vasya immediately guessed that the skiff would soon come to him.
The rooster, it seemed, had no doubt about this either; he flapped his wings and tried unsuccessfully to escape from the old woman’s tenacious claws. But, as it turned out, it was not he who made the cackling sounds, but the grandmother herself!
After galloping in her wild dance around the stump for another five minutes and clucking to her heart's content, the galloping grandmother, with an elusive movement, knocked off the head of the kochet... And then the most terrible thing began! She began to drink the blood spurting from the headless bird's neck, putting the stump with feathers in her mouth!
Periodically tearing herself away from the nightmare “vessel,” she poured gurgling blood over her face and chest. Vasily almost turned inside out! But afraid of being discovered, he continued to stand, motionless, behind the trees.
The headless rooster flapped its wings and twitched in the grandmother’s hand for some time. And when he calmed down, she threw him aside and, continuing to cackle and growl, committed real sodomy on the stump, which I, naturally, will not describe here.
Vasily, unable to bear the terrible sight any longer, turned around to run away as quickly as possible, when suddenly the branch under his foot cracked, and the grandmother’s cackling immediately stopped.
And Vasya, without turning around and without wasting a second, already rushed away through the bushes and windbreaks, without making out the road...
I couldn’t stop for a long time; while running I lost half of the mushrooms I had collected from the bucket. It seemed as if a terrible old woman was rushing at his heels and was about to grab him from behind with her bony, bloody fingers.
Because of this hectic running around, despite the fact that he always knew his way around the forest well, he lost his way. Then, as luck would have it, it started to rain. The forest darkened as if in the evening. The trees swayed ominously. And behind every bush and dead tree I saw this Baba Yaga.
Still, after two hours of wandering, I got to one stop. Not the one I planned in advance. Somehow the hard thing carried him aside. Although with a large unplanned delay, I got on a passing train. It takes about an hour to get home. I decided to take a nap on the way after long forest wanderings and nervous adventures. In the train car, the light is half-dimmed and doesn’t hurt your eyes. The best thing to do is to poke around for an hour...
But before Vasya had time to start nodding off, he felt someone’s gaze in his gut. As soon as he opened his eyes, he forgot to think about sleep. What a dream! In fact, I almost rushed into the aisle out of surprise!
One seat over, directly opposite, sat an old woman. No, she wasn't naked. And the hair is hidden under a scarf. And the cock’s blood didn’t fill the distorted, crazy face, but...
It was her!
The same Baba Yaga from the forest!!
Vasily went cold with horror. He involuntarily looked over his shoulder to determine the number of passengers. Unfortunately, it was a weekday, and it was already late. Three or four pensioners are dozing in different corners of the carriage. Against the sinister old woman is not an option at all.
And the old woman sits and doesn’t take her yellow eyes off the man. He really wants to burn a hole with his gaze, or something! The eyes actually glow in the twilight, like those of a predator!
It seemed that she read all his thoughts and knew that it was he who was watching her there in the clearing in the forest...
How Vasya made it to the first suburban station, he doesn’t know. But approaching it, he decided not to wait for the central station (where he needed to go), but to get off here. You can get to the house by transfer: by tram or shuttle bus. If only I could quickly get away from the piercing eyes of the nightmarish old woman.
About ten minutes before the long-awaited station, I stood shaking in the spit-stained vestibule, away from the terrible granny.
Finally the train stopped. The man jumped out and sighed with relief... But then he choked. Grandma, that damn Yaga, also crawled out onto the platform!! Only from the other end of the carriage! The train stops here for three minutes. Now I'm off and running! Vaska, without hesitation, jumped into the moving carriage again.
Standing in the vestibule, I watched with satisfaction the granny floating past, remaining on the platform. Ew! Finally got off! This is an obsession!!..
But the old woman didn’t even look at the unlucky man. She was fidgeting with something in her basket.
Vasya returned to the carriage, sat down in his seat and finally calmed down. Maybe it was all his imagination? No, not what happened in the forest. Everything was real there! Although it’s creepy, of course! But, what happens. Everyone goes crazy in different ways. So the granny, apparently, has gone off the rails in her old age. And God be with her!.. Or rather, the devil! Natural Baba Yaga - bone leg! The old woman’s legs really are made of bone!.. And her arms too.
And out of fear, he mistook an ordinary grandmother-passenger for a witch! That's right, that's exactly what happened! But grandma doesn’t even care about me. She just sat there, staring at one point. This happens to grandmothers. And I just found myself on this trajectory...
When the electric train hissed to a stop at the final stop - the central station, Vasya slowly stepped out into the vestibule and had already put his foot down on the step to get out onto the platform, when he suddenly heard behind him:
Give me your hand... Vasyatka...
The thought flashed - someone familiar... Although no one had called him “Vasyatka” for forty years. But when he turned around, he almost fell down the iron steps!!!
Baba Yaga!!! The same one! Both in the forest and the one that got off three stations ago!!! How did she end up in the carriage with me again?!!..
Now he had no doubts. This is a real witch! Doomedly he gave the old woman his hand and helped her down the steep steps onto the platform.
Grandma's palm reminded him of a dry old branch. Just as tough and rough. But she grabbed it tightly!
Having resigned himself to fate, the man was already expecting the worst. Maybe he’ll slash his throat with his sharp knife, like that rooster, maybe he’ll turn him into a kid...
But the grandmother only looked intently into the face of the timid man with her predatory amber eyes and said, grinning:
Vasyatka...
And she hobbled quietly away, bent double. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that just three hours ago this wreck of a woman was making a naked pretzel around a forest stump and spraying everything around with rooster’s blood!..
Vaska never saw the crazy old woman again. Neither in the city, nor in the forest, where he began to visit much less often.
But the meeting with the ominous grandmother did not pass without consequences.
The hand he extended to her at the station soon began to ache and dry out. The fingers began to bend and curl worse. The skin up to the shoulder was yellowed and wrinkled. And after two years, the hand and forearm completely lost sensitivity.
For this reason, Vasily received disability. Well, accordingly, the state provided a ticket to the sanatorium. Just to that Black Sea, where fate again brought him together with his childhood friend Slavik...
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The holidays have arrived, and with them a trip to visit grandma.
Little Lenka loved such trips more than anything else in the world - no more school, gymnastics clubs, boring textbooks and school bullies. But there is a spacious and quiet grandmother’s apartment, grandfather’s tales and a forest under the window. This was perhaps the most beautiful thing. The house was separated from a small forest only by a playground and an access road. Old, full of potholes and cracks in the asphalt. And what wonderful puddles came out of these pits!
And of course summer friends and comrades. Playing in the yard until dark, racing to pick strawberries and blueberries and outfitting expeditions into the forest without parental permission. One day, going deep into the forest to “search for treasure,” a group of children actually discovered a mysterious mound. True, instead of the devil’s treasure, it contained a cat buried by someone, but this find did not discourage the children’s enthusiasm. The cat was given a second burial; as an apology, blades of grass with strawberries strung on them were placed on the grave, and the expedition went deeper into the thickets.
The second find was more interesting. The thing found was most similar to a small galosh, only it was made of thin silver metal. The galoshes were decorated with an engraving in the form of schematically depicted herbs. The children passed the strange thing to each other, examined it and wondered what it was and what they should do next with the find. You can’t drag it home - firstly, the parents will interrogate it with passion and, most likely, the shoe will be taken away. And secondly, how to decide who exactly gets the value? There are three guys, but only one galosh.
As a result, it was decided to make a new treasure out of it. A place under a noticeable bush was quickly chosen, a hole was dug, the bottom was lined with burdock leaves and a galosh was solemnly lowered onto the leaves. It sparkled so beautifully against the background of soft green leaves! Lenka couldn’t resist, snatched the find from the hole and tried it on her left leg. She showed off in front of her comrades, sticking her tongue out at them and teasing that none of them were worthy of wearing a silver slipper, for which she received a couple of pinches and was left without a galosh. Galoshes were measured one by one. She fit equally well on all the children’s legs, sat comfortably on both the right and left legs, and the children played with her for a long time before finally hiding her.
The next day flew by unnoticed, and after dinner the friendly company gathered in the courtyard again. This time, older guys also joined them. First, the kids asked funny puzzles and riddles, and then moved on to scary stories. Here they talked about ghosts, and about the surrounding maniacs, and about ghouls, and about werewolves, and about goblin with mermaids and witches. Lenka absorbed each story with her whole being, numb with sweet horror and imagining how a procession of bluish ghosts floated along this very road on a dark, moonless night. How a mysterious tower rises behind the forest on strictly certain nights, and from the upper window a magical owl looks around the surroundings with yellow round eyes. And God forbid you catch the eye of any of them! They will devour, devour and not think twice about it!
The holidays have arrived, and with them a trip to visit grandma.
Little Lenka loved such trips more than anything else in the world - no more school, gymnastics clubs, boring textbooks and school bullies. But there is a spacious and quiet grandmother’s apartment, grandfather’s tales and a forest under the window. This was perhaps the most beautiful thing. The house was separated from a small forest only by a playground and an access road. Old, full of potholes and cracks in the asphalt. And what wonderful puddles came out of these pits!
And of course summer friends and comrades. Playing in the yard until dark, racing to pick strawberries and blueberries and outfitting expeditions into the forest without parental permission. One day, going deep into the forest to “search for treasure,” a group of children actually discovered a mysterious mound. True, instead of the devil’s treasure, it contained a cat buried by someone, but this find did not discourage the children’s enthusiasm. The cat was given a second burial; as an apology, blades of grass with strawberries strung on them were placed on the grave, and the expedition went deeper into the thickets.
The second find was more interesting. The thing found was most similar to a small galosh, only it was made of thin silver metal. The galoshes were decorated with an engraving in the form of schematically depicted herbs. The children passed the strange thing to each other, examined it and wondered what it was and what they should do next with the find. You can’t drag it home - firstly, the parents will interrogate it with passion and, most likely, the shoe will be taken away. And secondly, how to decide who exactly gets the value? There are three guys, but only one galosh.
As a result, it was decided to make a new treasure out of it. A place under a noticeable bush was quickly chosen, a hole was dug, the bottom was lined with burdock leaves and a galosh was solemnly lowered onto the leaves. It sparkled so beautifully against the background of soft green leaves! Lenka couldn’t resist, snatched the find from the hole and tried it on her left leg. She showed off in front of her comrades, sticking her tongue out at them and teasing that none of them were worthy of wearing a silver slipper, for which she received a couple of pinches and was left without a galosh. Galoshes were measured one by one. She fit equally well on all the children’s legs, sat comfortably on both the right and left legs, and the children played with her for a long time before finally hiding her.
The next day flew by unnoticed, and after dinner the friendly company gathered in the courtyard again. This time, older guys also joined them. First, the kids asked funny puzzles and riddles, and then moved on to scary stories. Here they talked about ghosts, and about the surrounding maniacs, and about ghouls, and about werewolves, and about goblin with mermaids and witches. Lenka absorbed each story with her whole being, numb with sweet horror and imagining how a procession of bluish ghosts floated along this very road on a dark, moonless night. How a mysterious tower rises behind the forest on strictly certain nights, and from the upper window a magical owl looks around the surroundings with yellow round eyes. And God forbid you catch the eye of any of them! They will devour, devour and not think twice about it!
But all good things come to an end sooner or later, and parents began calling their children home. Lenka also went home.
There were no lights on in the courtyard along several entrances, but there was no absolute darkness, and Lenka walked slowly, carefully looking at her feet and thinking about the horror stories she had just heard. The familiar door to the entrance opened with difficulty, creaking as usual. There was no light in the entrance either, and she almost groped her way up the stairs, counting the steps.
First... second... third...
The entrance door creaked for a long time. Maybe one of the residents was late?
Fourth... fifth...
When the flight of stairs ended, Lenka thought that the man’s steps could not be heard. Probably waiting for his eyes to get used to the darkness. And here is the second flight.
First step... second... third...
A heavy sigh was heard in the entrance, and the girl stumbled on the fourth step.
Fifth... sixth...
Below are shuffling steps. Slow, senile.
Lenka instantly jumped through the second floor and carefully looked down. On the railings, which were brightening in the darkness, an even lighter spot could be seen, and in its outline a human hand could be discerned. But the fingers were too long, and they seemed to bend too strangely.
She ran up the third flight of stairs as quickly as she could. Then she stopped between the floors and listened. The steps also seemed to speed up and sounded different. One foot stepped softly, slightly rustling on the floor, while the second shuffled much louder and knocked lightly as it stepped over the step.
Lenka began to climb even more hastily, but tripped on steps invisible in the darkness and again began to count them to herself so as not to make any more mistakes. She tried not to think about the rather painful bruise.
First... second... third... fourth... fifth...
The steps sounded too close - the pursuer, invisible in the darkness, stepped on the first step of the same flight.
Lenka squealed and rushed forward.
Up-up-up - turn. And repeat again. And further.
She barely had time to pull her hand away when someone else's palm touched the railing in the same place. Oh, this time Lenka got a better look at the hand. A clawed, long-fingered palm with knobby phalanges. And there were three phalanges on each finger. Everything inside the girl broke, she pressed her hands to her face, covering her mouth, which was twisted in horror, and an unknown person took advantage of the moment, grabbing the girl by the ankle. Lenka howled pitifully and began to run, snatching her leg from someone else’s grip.
Step, step, another step...
The steps from behind were approaching, but the home door was also approaching.
Lenka finally found herself near the door, banging on it with her fists:
- Grandma, open up! Grandma, hurry up!
And the unknown person was getting closer and closer from behind, and Lenka turned around, pressing her shoulder blades against the door and preparing to somehow protect herself.
The ancient old woman stood opposite the girl. Wrapped in a heavy-smelling shaggy sheepskin coat, unkempt, wearing a long, wide skirt. In the darkness, a silver shoe glittered on one of her feet, the other foot was bare, with the same long strange toes as on her hands. The old woman took another deep breath, as if sniffing, and extended her hand.
Lenka hit the door with her whole body:
- Grandma, hurry up!
* * *
The grandmother, who had dozed off in front of the TV, shuddered, waking up as soon as her granddaughter banged on the door. Hurry. Could she have come sooner? Old legs don’t want to walk, old head doesn’t think well from sleep...
When grandma finally opened the door, the landing was quiet and empty. Only a couple of moths hovered near the ceiling, near the brightly burning light bulb.