This story was told to me by an old acquaintance of mine who had long since disappeared from the horizon and it is unknown what became of him. Let's call our friend Sergei. The story takes place when he was a junior high school student. It was winter. Sergei was returning home after school. His path ran through a snow-covered wasteland, on which there was an abandoned construction site of a certain two-story panel structure.

Gray walls, empty squares of windows, reinforcement bars, concrete pipes and panels scattered around - who doesn’t know about such objects? Sergei visited that construction site in the summer, he liked to climb around the abandoned building, collect bunches of electrodes that looked like sparklers, play discoverer - in general, ordinary children's fun.

So, it was winter. It’s a fine sunny day, the snow is sparkling, there’s a whole day ahead. Sergei was just crossing that same wasteland when the wind blew. A real snowstorm began, he said. In general, this is not surprising, because open spaces are exposed to all winds. Snow swirled in the air, the sky turned grey. Sergei quickened his pace, surprised at such a sudden change in the weather. Passing by a construction site, through the whistle of the wind, he suddenly heard a sound similar to the quiet trill of a Chinese wind bell. In his story, Sergei could not swear that he did not hear this sound, but he felt that someone was calling him inside. It’s as if these overflows form words calling to come closer. Sergei succumbed to interest and went inside. According to him, he did not take his feelings seriously, but simply decided to check whether the melody of the wind could be heard under the roof of the building. And here’s what’s strange: the wind died down, but the trills of the bells remained. They sounded as if in the mind, not outside, like a song that you replay from memory in your head. The concrete box was silent.

“It was all strange,” said Sergei. “I didn’t come up with this sound.” If I wanted to, I could drive him out of my head. But he still didn’t come. On the contrary, when I started moving along the first floor of the construction site, it began to change the volume, then subsiding, then intensifying. It wasn’t scary, rather, it was interesting to see what kind of things the mind can throw out. And if it was not imagination, then what was the source of this music in the head? Well, I decided to follow the sound. It turned out that it was loudest near the stairs leading to the second floor. I began to climb it, and the melody kept growing, as if it was pushing me forward and approving my choice. However, when I crossed the flight and stepped onto the floor of the second floor, suddenly everything fell silent and there was real silence. You couldn’t even hear the wind, only snow was falling inside through the window openings. The second floor was nothing special, it was completely empty, only support beams stood here and there. The space was clearly visible, so I immediately saw some dark pile against the opposite wall, about twenty meters from me.

I went to see what was there - maybe a pile of roofing felt or some rags. But the closer I got, the clearer the outlines of a human figure in dark clothes became, sitting with his back to the wall right in the snow. There were about fifteen meters left before her when the figure began to move. I stopped and became alert, ready to fight in case of danger. The man slowly got up, and I would be damned if I didn’t hear his joints creaking and cracking. It was as if he had been sitting in this position for a week. Or maybe he was very old. But what was he doing at the construction site then? There were no homeless people in our city, I don’t think I was familiar with such a phenomenon, so I just stood and watched with my mouth open. The man was wrapped in some kind of black sackcloth with holes in it, through which a white body could be seen. When he stood up to his full height, it turned out that he was at least two meters high. He stood like that for some time, looking ahead and tilting his head with tangled black hair to the left and to the right, as if stretching his neck. I was already uneasy, but the distance allowed me to observe what he would do next. And then he came to me. His movements were devoid of smoothness, jerky, like a patient with cerebral palsy, he jerked his shoulders and head sharply, raised his leg and seemed to be thinking for a long time about where to step with it. It looked unnatural and was completely devoid of the comedy of an ordinary awkward person - he was approaching me with an obviously evil purpose. Now I clearly heard the cracking of joints, a disgusting sound. And then I saw his face...

According to Sergei, he sprinted so hard that he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him. In three leaps he reached the stairs, flew down the steps, and now he was already outside. Turning around, he realized that he was not being pursued, but he did not calm down at all and only caught his breath at home. Naturally, he has since bypassed that wasteland on the tenth road. While telling this story, he never smiled - it was clear that it was unpleasant to remember. However, I was terribly curious about what was wrong with that stranger’s face. Therefore, having overcome my sense of tact, I dared to ask him this question. Sergei looked at me, lowered his head, paused, and then only said:

And nothing more.

My name is Masha and I am 26 years old. I work in an office in the city. I love to get away from everyone, from the noise and go on a journey into nature. Fortunately, I have a house in the village, which is located right on the edge of the forest. How I love to get out of the city and spend the weekend in my little house.

This was last summer. After a hard week at work, I needed to rest, so I decided to leave the city once again. I packed my things, got into the car and drove off. When I arrived in the village, it was already evening and I was tired from the long drive. I went up to the second floor to the bedroom, went straight to bed and fell asleep instantly.

In the middle of the night, I woke up to the sound of a car alarm. I looked out the window, but there was no one there. In complete darkness, I fumbled for the car keys and pressed the button to turn off the alarm. When the noise stopped, I lay back down and tried to sleep. Suddenly, the alarm started working again. I didn’t want to get up, so I just grabbed the keys and pressed the button again.

Five minutes later the alarm went off for the third time. Once or twice might have been a fluke, but I was now wondering what was going on. Maybe someone is playing with me at night? I reluctantly stood up and pressed the button to turn off the siren, but this time I decided to watch what was happening. I hid by the window and began to peer into the darkness of the village night.

A few minutes later, I saw something in the moonlight. Shadows of the bites appeared and slowly began to move towards the car. The shadow suddenly took shape. It was something tall, skinny and black. The figure reached out with its thin arms and hit the car. The alarm blared and immediately the figure quickly dived back into the bush.

At that moment I did not understand what was happening and began to tremble with fear. Because I continued to watch and turned off the alarm. Something came out of the bush again and silently slid to the gate, stuck a long arm through the fence and closed the latch that holds the gate. I was trapped. Thousands of thoughts were racing through my head and I began to panic.

What was it? What does he want from me? What will it do next?

Tremors ran through me from the top of my head to my toes. My heart was pounding like crazy. I stood gritting my teeth and was afraid to breathe.

After a while I came to my senses and ran down the stairs as fast as I could. I needed to find something to protect myself. However, before I tried to find the switch and turn on the light, my gaze fell on the window and what I saw made me freeze in place in horror.

A black figure stood at the window. Her face was pressed against the glass as she watched, looking around the room to see if anyone was home. I dived like a stone behind the sofa and carefully looked out. And then I realized that all these tricks with the alarm were needed in order to lure me out.

I couldn't take my eyes off the ugly face. The skin was the color of ash and covered with wrinkles and folds. The eyes were small, like buttons, and completely black. A hole instead of a nose. There were no lips on the face, only two rows of sharp, yellow teeth. His breathing was so heavy and hoarse that the window fogged up from the outside.

I just knew it wasn't going to go away. After standing at the window for several minutes, I heard a rustling sound and realized that it had approached the front door. I watched as it tried to push its fingers through the crack under the door. The handle began to jerk up and down. And then the creature made a chilling sound... it didn’t sound like a voice. It was a vile, angry sound, like an angry dog ​​tearing apart a bone.

I knew that if it heard me, it would look for a way to get into the house. I just hid behind the sofa, in the shadows, desperately trying not to make a sound. Tears started streaming down my face no matter how hard I tried to stop them. I could hear my own pulse, I was shaking like a leaf and just praying for it to end.

I don't know how long I sat there cowering. I must have passed out. When I woke up and looked at the door, the creature had disappeared. The door was still there and everything seemed to have passed. I've never been so happy in my life. I ran to the second floor and looked out the window. It was already light outside and there was no sign of the strange monster.

I realized that this was my chance for salvation, I grabbed the keys and, without stopping to collect my things, ran to the car. I jumped inside, locked the doors and hit the gas to get out of the village as quickly as possible. I never stopped along the way until I reached the city.

When I returned to my apartment, I turned on the radio and the news announcer said that in the village, not far from my house, the bodies of two girls had been discovered that night. They were mutilated and thrown into the swamp. I guess the creature found what it was looking for...

Mystical creatures - these are real stories about mystical creatures from the lives of our readers. Scary stories of people who saw various mythical creatures with their own eyes.

Throughout history, people have believed and written about countless mystical beings. Legendary monsters and supernatural monsters. Do they even exist? Or is this someone’s invention or the harm of a sick fantasy?! We think that mystical beings exist. Because they themselves have read thousands of stories and evidence of their real existence.

Our world is not so harmless. After all, somewhere out there, in the dark, in forests isolated from view and in the deep depths of reservoirs, mysterious mystical creatures live. They appear unexpectedly and disappear just as unexpectedly. Frightened witnesses find themselves dumbfounded and bewildered. But there are eyewitnesses who saw them with their own eyes. And some even managed to film or photograph it. Even if some creatures are more incredible than others, it’s up to everyone to decide whether they really exist...

In some cases, they act as pests towards humans. But sometimes they provide us with invaluable services. They are not a myth, but a reality just like ourselves. If we don’t see them, it only means that we don’t see them yet. But the meeting can happen at any moment. You have to be prepared for it.
There are thousands of examples of human contacts with intelligent life forms of unknown origin. Colloquially referred to as “evil spirits” or mystical creatures.

Mystical creatures - These are eyewitness accounts. Those who were lucky enough to see with their own eyes mystical creatures considered fabulous. Stories about encounters with giant snakes and flying people. Giants, brownies, mermaids and many other amazing creatures. It turns out that these creatures are found not only in fairy tales, legends, books and films. They really exist!

Wood goblins hide in impenetrable thickets, and swampy swamps are the abode of kikimoras. And mermaids splash in the reservoirs, which can easily drag a careless swimmer to the bottom. River, lake and sea monsters are also not a myth - these stories are proof.

Scientists have debated for decades whether Bigfoot exists. The authors of these stories have no doubt about it. After all, some of them personally saw the mysterious Yeti or traces of his presence.

We are used to treating them as heroes of myths and legends, and only see them in films. And few people know that these fantastic creatures are not at all a figment of human imagination. They really exist. They just very rarely catch the eye of a person. And yet such meetings occur from time to time. And the proof of this is in these stories.

Mystical creatures - these are also legends about mythical creatures. Myths and legends about fabulous and mythological creatures of our planet.
Articles in this section, about mysterious and rare creatures, will help not only better understand the mysteries of nature, but also expand consciousness, which is too busy with its own existence.

Strange mythological and folklore animals. Half-humans, half-beasts, bird-people and snake-people, spirits of all earthly elements. They help us learn more about the ancient roots of humanity. This means it is better to understand yourself and your own path.

Stories from life Legends Myths Horror stories

All about Mystical creatures

10 short but very scary bedtime stories

If you need to work at night and coffee is no longer working, read these stories. They'll cheer you up. Brrr.

Faces in portraits

One man got lost in the forest. He wandered for a long time and finally came across a hut at dusk. There was no one inside, and he decided to go to bed. But he could not fall asleep for a long time, because there were portraits of some people hanging on the walls, and it seemed to him that they were looking at him ominously. Eventually he fell asleep from exhaustion. In the morning he was awakened by bright sunlight. There were no paintings on the walls. These were windows.

Count to five

One winter, four students from a mountaineering club got lost in the mountains and got caught in a snowstorm. They managed to reach an abandoned and empty house. There was nothing in it to keep warm, and the guys realized that they would freeze if they fell asleep in this place. One of them suggested this. Everyone stands in the corner of the room. First, one runs to the other, pushes him, the latter runs to the third, etc. This way they will not fall asleep, and the movement will warm them up. Until the morning they ran along the walls, and in the morning rescuers found them. When the students later talked about their salvation, someone asked: “If there is one person in each corner, then when the fourth reaches the corner, there should be no one there. Why didn’t you stop then?” The four looked at each other in horror. No, they never stopped.

Damaged film

One girl photographer decided to spend the day and night alone, in a deep forest. She was not afraid, because this was not the first time she had gone hiking. She spent the day photographing trees and grass with a film camera, and in the evening settled down to sleep in her small tent. The night passed peacefully; horror overtook her only a few days later. All four reels produced excellent images, except for the last frame. All the photographs were of her, sleeping peacefully in her tent in the darkness of the night.

Call from the nanny

One day, a married couple decided to go to the cinema and leave the children with a babysitter. They put the children to bed, so the young woman just had to stay home just in case. Soon the girl got bored and decided to watch TV. She called her parents and asked their permission to turn on the TV. They naturally agreed, but she had one more request... she asked if it was possible to cover the statue of an angel outside the window with something, because it made her nervous. The phone went quiet for a second, and then the father who was talking to the girl said: “Take the kids and run from the house... we'll call the police. We don't have an angel statue." The police found everyone remaining at home dead. The angel statue was never discovered.

Who's there?

About five years ago, late at night, 4 short bells rang at my door. I woke up, got angry and didn’t open the door: I wasn’t expecting anyone. On the second night someone called again 4 times. I looked out the peephole, but there was no one outside the door. During the day I told this story and joked that death must have taken the wrong door. On the third evening, an acquaintance came to see me and stayed up late. The doorbell rang again, but I pretended not to notice anything to check: maybe I was hallucinating. But he heard everything perfectly and, after my story, exclaimed: “Well, let’s deal with these jokers!” and ran out into the yard. That night I saw him for the last time. No, he didn't disappear. But on the way home he was beaten by a drunken company, and he died in the hospital. The calls stopped. I remembered this story because last night I heard three short rings on the door.

Twin

My girlfriend wrote today that she didn’t know that I had such a charming brother, and even a twin! It turns out that she had just stopped by my house, not knowing that I stayed at work until night, and he met her there. He introduced himself, offered him coffee, told a few funny stories from his childhood, and escorted us to the elevator.

I don’t even know how to tell her that I don’t have a brother.

Damp fog

It was in the mountains of Kyrgyzstan. The climbers set up camp near a small mountain lake. Around midnight everyone wanted to sleep. Suddenly a noise was heard from the direction of the lake: either crying or laughter. Friends (there were five of them) decided to check what was the matter. They found nothing near the shore, but saw a strange fog in which white lights glowed. The guys went to the lights. We took just a couple of steps towards the lake... And then one, who was walking last, noticed that he was standing knee-deep in icy water! He pulled the two closest to him, they came to their senses and got out of the fog. But the two who walked ahead disappeared into the fog and water. It was impossible to find them in the cold and in the dark. Early in the morning, survivors hurried after rescuers. They didn't find anyone. And by evening, the two who had just plunged into the fog also died.

Photo of a girl

One high school student was bored in class and looked out the window. On the grass he saw a photograph thrown by someone. He went out into the yard and picked up the photograph: it showed a very beautiful girl. She was wearing a dress, red shoes, and she was showing the V sign with her hand. The guy began asking everyone if they had seen this girl. But no one knew her. In the evening he put the photo near his bed, and at night he was awakened by a quiet sound, as if someone was scratching on the glass. A woman's laughter was heard in the darkness outside the window. The boy left the house and began to look for the source of the voice. He quickly moved away, and the guy did not notice how, hurrying after him, he ran out onto the roadway. He was hit by a car. The driver jumped out of the car and tried to save the downed man, but it was too late. And then the man noticed a photograph of a beautiful girl on the ground. She was wearing a dress, red shoes and was showing three fingers.

Grandma Marfa

Grandfather told this story to his granddaughter. As a child, he found himself with his brothers and sisters in a village that the Germans were approaching. The adults decided to hide the children in the forest, in the forester's house. They agreed that Baba Marfa would carry the food for them. But returning to the village was strictly forbidden. This is how the children lived through May and June. Every morning Martha left food in the barn. At first the parents also came running, but then they stopped. The children looked at Martha through the window, she turned and silently, sadly looked at them and baptized the house. One day two men approached the house and invited the children to come with them. These were partisans. From them the children learned that their village was burned a month ago. They also killed Baba Martha.

Do not open the door!

A twelve-year-old girl lived with her father. They had a great relationship. One day my father was planning to stay late at work and said that he would return late at night. The girl waited for him, waited, and finally went to bed. She had a strange dream: her father was standing on the other side of a busy highway and shouting something to her. She barely heard the words: “Don’t... open... the door.” And then the girl woke up from the bell. She jumped out of bed, ran to the door, looked through the peephole and saw her father's face. The girl was about to open the lock when she remembered the dream. And my father’s face was somehow strange. She stopped. The bell rang again.
- Dad?
Ding, ding, ding.
- Dad, answer me!
Ding, ding, ding.
- Is there anyone there with you?
Ding, ding, ding.
- Dad, why don’t you answer? - the girl almost cried.
Ding, ding, ding.
- I won’t open the door until you answer me!
The doorbell kept ringing and ringing, but the father was silent. The girl sat huddled in the corner of the hallway. This went on for about an hour, then the girl fell into oblivion. At dawn she woke up and realized that the doorbell was no longer ringing. She crept to the door and looked through the peephole again. Her father was still standing there and looking straight at her. The girl carefully opened the door and screamed. Her father's severed head was nailed to the door at peephole level.
There was a note attached to the doorbell with just two words: “Smart girl.”

Author: Eldar Seidaliev
The sky was gloomy and foreshadowed precipitation. As if reflected from the asphalt, it was gray all the way to the horizon. I was riding in an old, half-empty bus between decrepit wooden houses and bare, dry trees, past forgotten, lonely stops and dead factories. Along a crooked, broken road, teeming with cracks and holes, into which the wheels of the bus so often fell and shook it so much that it seemed to me that it was about to fall apart. There was an unbearable smell of alcohol and urine in the cabin. The culprits of these stench were two men sitting opposite. Dressed in shabby and already torn rags, they watched the dull landscape outside the window with lifeless faces and dull eyes. A couple of times I made an effort to move to another seat, but the obsessive thought that this might somehow offend them held me back. Having become a prisoner of my indecision, I often turned my head back to breathe in clean air, but my gaze came across a twisted old woman with a large gray bag of pies, which, due to strong shaking, fell onto the dirty seats or rolled under her crooked legs. Picking up with nervous movements something that already looked like a grimy bun, she blew on them a couple of times, wiping them on the edge of her black jacket, and put them back in the bag. The overall picture made me unbearably sad. Neither the music on my record player nor the thoughts of good things could dispel my sadness or erase this disgusting reality. And something ominous began to envelop me - and my heart sank, and my body went limp, as if an invisible shell had been put on it, under the weight of which I bent and began to feel deeply depressed and broken. At that moment, the spire of a familiar chapel appeared in the distance, which (as I believed) was one of the main reasons for my mental illness. Reaching into my pocket, I felt the chilling cold of the coins, which I counted out to the driver with disgust. Rain is coming. And ahead was a long path to the chapel through a wasteland. A narrow, invisible path led to it. There were no roads or signs, but everyone in the town knew the place. It evoked the most unpleasant sensations and painful memories among local residents. Many avoided it and did not appear here for no reason. But sooner or later they came: some of their own free will, others under duress, some for a while, others forever. I hated him too and (how hard it was not to admit) I was afraid. But it was fate that I was here every day. There were no trees or plants in the vacant lot. But the “wasteland” was anything but: a path through dunes of household rubbish and building materials leading to the old cemetery where I worked. And now I quickened my pace and wrapped myself better in my cloak, as the cold began to pierce me inside and outside: whether it was due to nerves or bad weather (damn it!) - I don’t know. Many stories were told about this wasteland, but I did not believe in them... except for one. The wasteland was to become a recreation center - and all preliminary preparations were made. But when construction began - for some unknown reasons - it was curtailed after several months of work. Maybe the financier, having gotten to know the gloomy climate of this area better, decided that this was not the best place for a camp site? But the fact remains: there were many assumptions, but the true reason for the builders’ escape from the wasteland remained a mystery to this day. I walked and looked at the huge gray slabs - the same building materials that remained as a souvenir from the unfinished construction. Large, cold, gray slabs - they reminded me of stone coffins in which giants could be buried. And around there is an endless dump of scraps of old clothes, torn books, broken strollers, rocking chairs, bare tires, bent sofas, rusty pipes and washbasins. Along the way, I also often came across disabled dolls, cars without wheels, torn soft bears and rattles lying lifeless on rocky hills. Passing by, a flood of those childhood memories and impressions washed over me, which made me feel uneasy. Cold sweat began to form on my forehead. Since childhood, I have been squeamish and wary of dolls. It was my phobia and, accordingly, a big secret in human society. And now, looking at all these abandoned utensils, I assume that the main difference between things and people is that they must belong to someone in order to have some value; a person, on the contrary, if he belongs to someone else, loses his freedom. But isn’t freedom the main value for him? People, like these things, become rejected and unnecessary. These buried toys seemed to be asking me to come over and give them some of the attention they once received. But I walked - and only walked forward, accelerating my steps, and at one moment I suddenly realized that I was already running. The headwind tore off my scarf and carried it towards the garbage hills. This scarf was my mother's last gift, and it meant so much more to me than just a piece of wool. I stopped, but it took me very little time to gather all my will into a fist and return for him. And the clouds continued to cry on my head. To my horror, the scarf was nowhere to be found - which meant I would have to climb all the hills to find it. To broaden my horizons, I chose the highest slide of broken toys. I'm sure it will make it easier to find him. Stumbling and falling, getting up and crushing dolls' heads again, I climbed this hill; and he kept crumbling until the moment he plunged into it up to his waist. Suddenly I felt terrible pain in my leg. Something pierced her and pierced right through her. In horror, I began to call for help. But even if someone was passing, it is unlikely that he would have been able to hear me, because I was about fifty meters away from the path, and the loud noise of the rain was deafening everything around. I made a couple of efforts to break free from captivity and get out on my own, but nothing worked - and (as it seemed to me) with every movement I plunged deeper and deeper into this dump. I felt sick from pain and fear and lost consciousness. I don’t know how much time passed, but when I woke up, it was dark and damp around. Apparently, I fell right into the center of this slide, and there was little daylight coming here. And water flowed on me from all corners so that it became difficult to breathe, and I again began to call for help. When I was already hoarse and even internally stopped understanding myself, I stopped and started crying. I cried, but in my head I went through all the possible options for my death. If anyone passes along the path, it will be either relatives carrying the coffin to the cemetery, or undertakers returning or going to work. The third option could be a garbage truck that comes here once a week to further increase the garbage capital. She'll just bury me alive - and no one will even know about my death until the smell of my decomposing body becomes so unbearable that someone might call the police, if they haven't already mistaken it for the corpse of a stray dog. The beating of my heart became clear and echoed in my ears. Now any movement brought me so much pain that I gave up all attempts to get out of here on my own. I was completely chilled and started to freeze. I began to feel sleepy. To that very dream from which you may not wake up. How many hours have I spent here? Having no concept of time, I began to mentally say goodbye to everyone I loved. And the list of these people miraculously turned out to be larger than I expected. Clinging to pleasant memories, I didn’t even notice how I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, then (to my surprise) I realized that I was not dead. But I woke up to the fact that a stream was already pouring on me from the top rows of the toy dump and the body of a children's dump truck was an excellent means of drowning. I realized that if I didn’t die from hypothermia, I would simply drown in the water. Apparently, I fell into a circular slab with a large diameter. Feeling one side of it, it seemed oval to me. Having come to terms with this seemingly irreconcilable fact, I began to try to feel something with my hands. It seemed that in some miraculous way she could help me. Touching and trying to grab something from the garbage, which was tightly squeezing me from all sides, I suddenly clearly heard the phrase “My life for you.” A chilling spark ran through my entire body. When the fear gradually began to recede, I began to listen. Only the sound of rain - and nothing, no other similar sounds. Perhaps these are auditory hallucinations, because it is quite possible that I had to spend more than one day in these catacombs. I tried to call for help again, but apparently my voice had already cracked, and the heat in my body indicated that I was sick. And most likely a sore throat. Even if a person walks five meters from this place, he still won’t hear me. Quite a lot of time has passed. The sounds of rain stopped. It was clear that I didn’t have long left. Only now I realized that all this time I had been losing blood: my leg was pierced deeply and seriously, and I no longer felt it at all. I went into rather dark thoughts, trying to ironize that the gravedigger was buried alive in a pile of toys. Isn't this ironic? I have always carefully and diligently dug graves for people, knowing that they were constantly deceived throughout their long or short lives by butcher shop clerks, repair services, tax offices, doctors and police officers. And therefore the last service was mine: to dig a hole deep and wide enough so that at least in the last matter in this world everything would be fair and beautiful. And I always did this conscientiously, but partly because I didn’t want the souls of the dead to visit me later and rush me to the next world. I was distracted from these thoughts by a child’s voice, which seemed to be coming from another world. Then another voice was heard less clearly: male and hoarse, the kind of voice that comes either from retired colonels or from boatswains on a ship.
- Jessica! Stop! Don't go there!
But the children's laughter became more and more distinct. I understood that the child was behaving as usual and was not listening. The voice was very close and then I realized that this was my last chance to escape from this crypt, and I wouldn’t have a second one like this. I began to scream, but my vocal cords were inflamed - and they no longer produced any sound or mooing. Then, in a panic, he began to hit the walls with his fists, when suddenly he heard the word “My life for you” again. I stretched my body as far as I could and began to feel for this object. He continued to hit in the direction from which the sound came: the same word over and over again, “My life for you.” The last thing I heard was a child's cry:
- Grandpa, there’s someone there!
... I opened my eyes in a white chamber. They put a cast on my leg and put IVs in my arms. On the table, next to a vase of dried flowers, sat a red-haired doll with big blue eyes in a pink dress and one shoe. A familiar sound was constantly coming from her. And only in the sleepy silence of the hospital room did I understand the words of the jammed battery: “I love you!”