This story happened to my husband when he was a child. I am writing from his words.
I come from Belarus, from the city of Polotsk. Amazingly beautiful and ancient city, it keeps many legends and secrets. As are its surroundings.
As a child, I was terribly restless, and therefore my parents sent me every summer to visit my grandparents in the village. In addition, my grandfather and I, an avid fisherman and hunter, had very similar characters; we could not sit at home for a long time without adventures. From an early age I ran into the forest and disappeared there from early dawn until late at night, without fear of getting lost. At first the grandmother groaned and wailed, but did not contradict her husband.
When this story happened, I turned twelve. The nearest forest was explored far and wide, and I decided to go to the swamps. Without warning his family, he went on a trip. At first everything went well. Bypassing the swamps, I boldly walked along the dry hummocks. Clear sunny day, birds singing, good mood. What else does a young traveler need? But this lasted until I realized that I didn’t know where to go. It was very strange. Because I could always accurately determine which direction the house was located. My grandfather even joked that I had a compass sewn into my head. I stood in the middle of the swamp, unable to determine the direction. Trying not to panic, I began to remember everything my grandfather taught me. Having estimated the time by the sun, I moved, as I thought, in the right direction. But what frightened me was not that I was lost, there are many farms in Belarus - you’ll wander into one, but the fact that my inner “compass” was still silent.
I wandered through unfamiliar terrain for another four hours until I smelled smoke. Delighted that he had finally reached his home, he hurried to follow the smell. After some time I found myself on the edge of a small village. Neat huts stood in a ring of vegetable gardens. A woman came out of a nearby house and approached me. But what happened next left only blurry memories. I remember that she brought me to her place, fed me, and asked me about something. And then suddenly she offered to tell fortunes. I won’t tell you what I learned about my future, I will only say that part of what was predicted came true. Then several more women came and also questioned me. I remember that they were all very surprised that I myself found the way to them, and not someone showed me. I don’t remember how I got home. I woke up in bed, with my excited grandparents nearby. It turned out that when I did not return after sunset, they raised the entire village to their feet and went looking for me. They returned in the morning at about four o'clock and found me sleeping in my bed, but no matter how hard they tried, they could not wake me up. But the most interesting thing was ahead of me. When I told about where I had been, their faces changed. It turned out that I came across a “witches’ farm.” Allegedly, there is a village where only witches live and not everyone manages to get to them or leave, and there was no question of telling fortunes at all. This farm is supposedly enchanted and cannot be seen.
“You’ll pass by and not notice,” the grandfather said quietly, “but apparently, it was your fate, since you got to them and left alive.” They really don’t like our brother. Men. That's it, don't go to the swamps anymore. Out of harm's way.
Of course, I didn’t listen to my grandfather and a few days later I went there again. But either witchcraft took my eyes away, or something else, but I no longer saw either the mysterious village or the witches.
In the 1960s, an old man settled in a taiga village in Altai. Soon rumors spread among the locals that this grandfather was a sorcerer. He kept a small apiary at his house. He worked with bees all day long, and before going to bed, he walked around his property and whispered something, making mysterious passes with his hands. In a word - he conjured. But they believed in him magical abilities mainly representatives of the older generation. Young people, who were brought up in an atheistic spirit, of course, only laughed at these rumors.
One day, three guys decided to steal a beehive of honey from their grandfather. By midnight, when the old man was already sleeping deeply in his hut, the guys made their way to the apiary, looked around, and listened. The strongest of them climbed over the fence. He crept to one of the hives, bent down, wrapped his arms around it and... froze.
He stood in this half-bent position for about five minutes. His friends began to worry. Then we climbed over the fence to find out what was the matter, why wasn’t my friend dragging the hive? They crept up to a friend and touched him on the shoulder. But he stood as if petrified.
Friends' hair stood on end. They tried to push their friend again, but with the same success they could move a block of stone weighing several tons. The boys were seized with horror, they jumped over the fence and rushed wherever they looked. They fled to their homes. We didn’t sleep a wink until the morning. And when it began to get light, they were again at the apiary. They looked through the fence: their friend was standing in the same position in which they had left him. The guys tried to attract his attention with a loud whisper and waved their hands, but the friend remained mute and motionless.
At this time the owner of the apiary appeared. He approached the unlucky thief and grinned into his beard:
Well, did you get caught, killer whale? But I warned people not to interfere with me. Okay, I'll let you go, but don't steal from now on!
The grandfather whispered something over the guy and waved his hands. He suddenly collapsed to the ground. It seems he was unconscious. His friends, as soon as the old man went to his hut, grabbed the victim by the arms and dragged him home. This guy slept for three days and three nights. When I came to my senses, I couldn’t remember anything.
Having learned about what had happened, the residents began to take the tenth route to bypass the sorcerer’s possessions. Meanwhile, the injured guy stopped communicating with his friends and generally changed a lot - he became somehow very correct. And his two friends, who went with him on business, no, no, and sometimes did some unseemly things. Only after this will a boil pop out on their butt, or their arm will hang like a whip for several days, or a speck will get into their eye, so much so that for a week the tears flow in a stream without stopping. In the end, both bullies died quite young, and suffered greatly before their deaths. By the way, the guy who turned into stone didn’t live long either - he once shot himself.
Once the sorcerer’s neighbor, also a beekeeper, had a fight with him over some nonsense. And in the morning, when he approached his hives, he saw that all his bees had died.
The sorcerer then left the village somewhere, but the story about him is still passed on from mouth to mouth.
Here's what happened to my mother. One spring she replanted tomatoes, cabbage, onions, and carrots. At this time, an unfamiliar old woman passed along the road behind the picket fence. She stopped and began to look and observe the work. Then she said:
Fedorovna, don’t plant anything in those beds over there this year. Nothing will grow there!
She said so and trudged on her way. Her mother looked after her in bewilderment. How could a stranger know her middle name? In general, she shrugged her shoulders and continued her work. Only, in fact, nothing grew in the two beds indicated by the old woman. Even the weeds.
My father and I once also encountered an inexplicable event. This was at the end of November. We went with him in a sleigh to get some hay. Our haystack stood in the forest, in a mowing area. When we were leaving the village, we came across an unfamiliar old man who suddenly called out to his father:
Nikolaich, you better not go for hay today, you won’t bring anything.
The father muttered something in response, but, of course, did not change his plans. We arrived in the forest. They loaded the hay onto the sleigh and tied it with a rope. Father smoked on the path and took the reins. The horse jerked, but could not move the sleigh from its place. The father waved the reins again, but the mare couldn’t even move a step. She tried her best, almost standing on her hind legs. To no avail! This went on for several minutes. Then the father cursed with relish:
Well, the old stump... He conjured a spell after all, he's an infection!
We had to unload the hay. They swept everything down to a blade of grass. And the horse calmly moved away.
“Let’s at least put some under ourselves,” said the father and threw an armful of hay into the sleigh. The horse moved and again could not move the sleigh.
I had to post this armful too. Only then was the horse able to walk. So we arrived back to the village in an empty sleigh. And the next day they went for hay again, loaded the cart, and tied it down. The horse calmly moved the sleigh from its place, and we safely reached the house.
Well, and finally one more thing. I was about fifteen years old when I helped an Old Believer grandfather renovate his house. And so, when we finished work, the old man said:
I want to thank you for your help. I'll tell you a conspiracy against ticks.
And here in the taiga, in Siberia, ticks are some kind of disaster! Every year, starting from kindergarten, everyone is vaccinated against encephalitis. And whoever neglects this can pay not only with health, but also with life.
In general, my grandfather told me how to use this spell. The words were not complicated and were easy to remember. Since then, I have no longer given myself these vaccinations. When I go into the forest, I read the plot and boldly set off on my way. Ticks, of course, cling to clothes, but none of them have ever burrowed into the body. Many times I have spoken kindly about this old man.
Then, throughout my life, many times I had to help my friends and acquaintances work in apiaries. It turned out that the conspiracy also worked on bees. They didn't sting me. I have never used a mosquito net or mittens. It happened a couple of times that I entered the apiary without reading the plot... This is where I got the worst of the bees!
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Half a year ago, an incident happened to me, and I decided to write here, hoping for your help or adequate advice (I went to church, it didn’t help, I went to different grandmothers and they said it wouldn’t end). I was returning home from my girlfriend’s place at about two o’clock in the morning, it was dark and damp. The road to my house passes through an abandoned orphanage, I heard a child crying, I was a little drunk, so it was almost not scary, I wanted to help the child, find out what was wrong.
What was it
This strange incident happened to my great-grandmother. She somehow stayed up late embroidering. It was winter time, it was dark outside. It should also be added that in the villages at that time she was considered a midwife. So she says: “I was sitting, embroidering, but it was already late. I was getting ready to go to bed when suddenly there was a knock on the window. I was surprised: who could come at such a time? I approach and see: a man standing near the window, who looks very wealthy. Master, in a word!
“I stayed at a party with my school friend Yulka. I had a good meal, rushed to go home, and then the buses and minibuses were no longer running. Yulka says:
- Stay the night with us, it’s late.
“It’s not convenient to embarrass you, maybe I’ll call a taxi,” I answer.
- Yeah, call, call, maybe a taxi, or maybe something worse will come...
Candle of happiness
There is such a belief: if you bring a candle lit on Maundy Thursday in Holy Week from the church to your home and burn a cross with it above the door to your house, then misfortune will pass you by. I have learned from my own experience that this is true. We lived very hard back then. I was the only worker in the family, and it’s shameful to say how much I received. His little son was seriously ill, and his mother-in-law was suspected of cancer. Drug addicts were acting up in the entrance hall.
Hell Lily
“According to the law of meanness, the very thing that I simply need always breaks down. So yesterday my favorite old mop broke. And without her I’m like without hands. I didn’t want to buy a new mop, so, having tried unsuccessfully to repair the old one, I went to my neighbor Victor, realizing that I simply couldn’t do without a man’s hands. Turning the fragments of my mop in his hands, Victor said.
Saving cross
"I, like most Soviet people, grew up an atheist. But one day... In 1992, when churches began to be restored in the country, the opportunity arose to openly baptize a child, buy church literature, and an icon. Somehow by chance I ended up at a church kiosk. It was cold, but I stood at the display window for a long time, admiring the cross. For some reason I asked if it was consecrated... having received an affirmative answer, I bought it.
The windows of my room do not go directly onto the street, but onto the balcony, and for as long as I can remember, I was always afraid to look there when evening came. One of these evenings, as usual, I sat in my room and played on the computer. I was distracted by a noise from the balcony - someone was rattling empty pickle jars. Turning around, I saw a silhouette there. Luckily it was my mom, but I was still a little scared at first.
Today it is so fashionable to consider yourself a cool and thieves guy. Many are proud that they have been in prison, that they know various authorities and thieves in law. These people live their own lives, they have their own concepts, their own foundations and even their own language. I recently met old friends. They were talking animatedly about something. I was very happy, since I had not seen my comrades for a long time. Alexander told me the story they had just discussed.
Life doesn't teach me anything. Now, looking back, I doubt that anyone is even able to believe what happened then... But what happened cannot be changed, even if you really want to. So, at that time I was about thirteen years old, maybe a little older. Curiosity has killed a lot of cats, and it got me in the nuts too... With two friends, no less abnormal than me, we decided to take up spiritualism in our spare time and call at least someone...
In May, I quit my job, took the amount due, my girlfriend and went to the village to relax, not far from Penza. The village is small, but it doesn’t bend, there are some farms nearby, rivers, forests, in short, they somehow get out. Well, I have some relatives there. I didn’t want to live with my relatives, because even though it was family there, there were cattle and there were too many of them in the house, I rented a house next to ours - with my grandmother Daria - an ordinary old woman, her husband died a long time ago, her son drank himself to death, the grandchildren moved away, she lives for herself.
Forty miles from Boston, on the shores of Massachusetts Bay, is the small provincial town of Salem. More than three hundred years ago, terrible events took place here. It all started on a January day in 1692, when 9-year-old Betty and 11-year-old Abigail were possessed by demons.
For the girls, apathy gave way to inexplicable irritation. From time to time they fell to the floor or to the ground, convulsed, screamed madly, then either sobbed or laughed furiously.
The maid of the house, the black woman Tituba, decided to check whether the evil spirit had moved into them? She doused a piece of meat with the girls' urine, burned it and fed the rest to the dog. Tituba's good intentions were punished. The divination became known. Betty began to turn blue and croaked, “Tituba.” The black woman was immediately arrested. Soon the beggar Sarah Good and the farmer Sarah Osborne were put in her cell. Their names were also reported by the demon-possessed during the attack. After this incident, accusations of witchcraft rained down left and right.
The women thought that the girls were just having fun, writhing on the floor and acting out scenes. But the rough, unchildish voice with which they shouted their accusations testified: someone else, who had taken possession of them, was directing the performance.
After some time, several more children were “infected” with this scourge. Not only the harmless residents of Salem, but also the rich residents of the city were declared sorcerers and witches. The local jail was overcrowded. Then the young cliques began to be taken to neighboring areas. Absolutely strangers girls were accused of the most terrible crimes committed in alliance with evil spirits. Confessions from those “exposed” were extracted under torture, then they were hanged on trees.
In the end, when accusations of evil spirits affected very noble people, the authorities decided to put an end to the bacchanalia. Betty, Abigail and their girlfriends did not persist for long and admitted: “We did this for fun!”
Hundreds of doomed people were released. However, by this time 19 people had already been hanged, one accused was tortured in his cell. Farmer Giles Corey stood up for his wife accused of witchcraft. Being arrested himself, he decided to remain silent. Then they applied an ancient torture to him: they began to put weights on his chest, hoping that he would speak out of pain. And indeed, one day Corey said in a barely audible voice: “Add more weight.” A few more weights were added, and the farmer gave up the ghost. Four people died in prison from overcrowding and unsanitary conditions, one girl went crazy...
In 1507, there was a large sect in the Kalahari (Africa). Its members recognized the devil as their master and master. For his part, the “master” endowed his servants with the ability to bring diseases to animals and commit other harmful deeds.
After the arrest of the sectarians, the police commissioner wanted to verify the facts of witchcraft for himself. He promised pardon to one old witch for demonstrating witchcraft. The witch agreed to the proposal. She asked to bring the box taken away during the arrest, after which she went up to the tower with the commissar. There she stood in front of the window. In full view of the assembled audience, she carefully coated the palm of her left hand, hand, elbow, under her arm, and the entire left side of her body with the mixture from the box. After the manipulation was done, she screamed in a wild voice: “Are you here?”
Those present clearly heard a powerful voice answer:
"Yes I'm here!" Then the old woman began to descend along the tower upside down, like a lizard. In the middle of the tower, in front of the eyes of frightened spectators, she... flew and disappeared over the horizon!
The stunned commissar, right there in the square, promised to give a huge reward to anyone who would bring the witch to him. Two days later, the old woman was detained by local shepherds and brought to the commissioner. He asked in surprise why she didn’t fly away from these places. “The gentleman wanted to move me only a distance of three miles and left me in the field where the shepherds found me,” the old woman calmly answered. This amazing case was published in the History of the Inquisition by Arthur Arnoux.
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There were no official witch trials in Russia. But the people recognized that they lived on earth, and left many stories on this topic. One mile from the village of Rozhkovichi in the former Pruzhany district there were two pine trees, between which at the same time of year a woman with flowing hair and wearing long white clothes appeared. Whoever this woman caught became her victim: she led him through the swamps, exhausted him to the last degree, and killed the exhausted one. And no one could find any trace of the unfortunate man. Only a few people escaped the witch. They said that during their wanderings they saw long and wide rivers, huge forests and large cities.
Something similar happened four miles from the town of Zabludovo. There lived a witch on a large mountain. It was rare that anyone could pass by this place unharmed. Usually the witch caught up with the passer-by, with a strong cry numbed the horses and riders, and then strangled them on her chest. But one day a quick-witted coachman asked his master to get out of the carriage and hide behind a tree. The horses were sent forward. As usual, the witch stopped them with an inhuman voice and began to choke them. At this time, the coachman tore off a silver button from the owner’s clothes, loaded the gun, killed the witch, from whose wound not blood flowed, but tar.
Of course, all this can be attributed to the artistic invention of the talented Russian people. However, here is a fact recorded according to all the rules.
In the 1950-1960s of the last century, Elder Simeon lived in the Pskov-Pechersk Monastery. With prayer, he healed people from various diseases and helped in other matters. Anastasia Cherekh also turned to the hieroschemamonk with her misfortune. For many years she lived with her husband Gabriel in peace and harmony. And then suddenly I hated him. I wanted to get a divorce; Gabriel was very worried and tried to hang himself. Someone advised Anastasia to visit Elder Simeon. Father confessed her, Anastasia received Holy Communion. I came home bright and joyful. I told my husband, according to the elder, that evil people they were spoiled by the ears of corn that were lying in the barn. The couple found them and went to the hut to burn them. A neighbor immediately runs in and shouts: “Don’t burn, don’t burn!” The neighbor turned out to be a witch. Out of envy for their peaceful life, she caused discord. If it were not for the foresight of Father Simeon, there would be trouble in this house. [b]
From Yesterday, 13:03
Gwen was awakened by the tapping of a branch on the window and the smell of buttered croissants. It was raining outside again. The dull palette of ashen tones was surprisingly pleasing to the eye. Throwing a blanket over her shoulders, the girl went out onto the balcony. Herb tea with a croissant were the best addition to the weather. The atmosphere of comfort displaced the shocks experienced. The cemetery seemed like a blur. Not dangerous and not scary.
A gust of wind opened the window. The mug slipped out of my hands and shattered into pieces. The oak tree on the hill swung in a loop like a pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth. The firewood crackled in the fireplace, drops merged into streams and flowed onto the floor. Gwen looked at the tea leaves, listening to the sounds coming from the street. Fog was coming down from the side of the hill. Incredibly thick, it skirted the steps and slid between the graves. Gwen took a step back and pulled the blanket over her chest. The shadows stretched out the statues, making them ugly and irregular. Who even wants to look at such a landscape outside the window early in the morning? It won't take long to go crazy like that.
- Take her!
