-Granny, let's jump out the window! This time I am I got tougher and more convincing. Tone is not tolerate opposition.
-But how grandson...
-How!!! Bay stool glass!
However, all remained immobile. And then, evil сплюнув, I rushed out of the door, the whirring of every push, gleaming in the gloom, a stool and grabbed her leg, she gasped window. He heard the ringing sound of a tree. I swung and struck yet: the way to the retreat was free. But Peter was already here. And there is nothing else left to do, swinging in the opposite direction, hit that had the power and the dead. He staggered away, but in the next second went again to me not сгибающейся, ходульной gait.
-Вылазьте, Вылазьте soon! "I implored, not having even a possibility to turn around and see what was happening behind me.
"Here, take it! — Pelageya was next to me and put my hand in something solid, resembling a plate, and then broke somewhere in the darkness.
The reflections from the window flashed patent icon that stood on the table at my grandmother's bed, and not really knowing what she should do, I was fenced off the Holy icon from the dead, and felt that his efforts to get to me became not so energetic, but also my hands had experienced such pressure force, if they tried to stop the locomotive of the train, and it was clear that so not last long.
Somewhere nearby the distribution смрадное Champ from the darkness could hear some sounds, flashed part of the body of the dead man, and the incredible , like cast iron severity of hell's vain efforts to achieve my flesh was threatening to break my fragile hands, with difficulty restraining a small icon, which as a shield загородился I from the horrible corpse, who aspired to me, навалившегося invisible force.
A few more seconds, I was going to topple to the ground. I stepped to the window, but the severity, налегшая on hand, only increased. And then, releasing from the hands of the Holy painted oil painting, I dived back into the narrow doorway, silver square-emerged on the dark wall.
Peter managed to grab my leg for the foot. Cold his fingers, rough, thick and ugly, once cooled my blood. My body hung along the walls, and in the turned the sky, burning only major stars, подернутом gray-herring, smoked поволокой, I saw a swinging from side to side of the moon, impartially observing what is going wrong when its light the terrible horror.
Peter easily, so lightly, drew me back into the house, and feeling that now will do something terrible, I twitched, trembled in his icy its claws, like a helpless синичка in the fist of сноровистого ловчего.
Thoughts, hundreds of thoughts confusing and circling алогичными vortices. Rush in my head, just water, which rushed by of the dam through прохудившуюся, лопнувшую dam. Here soul cries feverishly sought the support of consciousness done facts, the last lights of hope drenched embers turned into ashes, dead thoughts rushing about from head to heels of animal fear of death.
All has floated before my eyes. I jerked it a few times, but without a passionate impulse, and not knowing convulsions whether this agony, or else miserable past attempts attempts to break free and escape.
In the moment dead man's fingers relaxed, and I hurt his on the window frame of the knee, kuvyrknuvshis over his head and landed on the floor, грохнувшись sideways. In the ears faded out a cry, resembling more the groan of a falling tree, подрубленного дровосеком than the person's voice.
Воцарившуюся silence and darkness, in which I lay, a few seconds of hesitation, I know if I am already in that light, or even dwell on this, broke as thunder coming voice:
"Hey, are you alive?
I recognized the voice of Ivan Noodles and a few seconds trying to figure out not misheard whether, if at all, did it for me. Was this his hands that clasped fingers of my bare feet? Why he had such power? Yes and not fit something...
"Hey, are you alive, say? — repeated question.
-Alive — in a weak voice, " I replied. — Bitch.
Someone jumped down gently next to me in the grass and hand touched my shoulder. His fingers were warm.
-What was it? — only and could I ask, physically feeling, as my strength is leaving me with every spoken word.
-What I told you was the voice of the shepherd, now it was heard clearly.
-And where is he?
-Who? Peter? I Drin aspen pierced. He is now in a house of sand.
I frowned, and numbness relaxes the body. Sensing the weakness in all the States, I still rose from the ground, supported by the hand of a shepherd.
"Listen, Ivan, what does all this mean? I asked, trying to see the facial expression of a shepherd in distorted long shadows отбрасываемыми Moon, the contours of its parts.
-I told you so, " he replied quietly. I'll tell everything! I warned you!
"Yeah, " I agreed. — And what next?
-What next?
-On now what? What will be? Why wait?
-Why wait? — in the twilight dashed hand Ivan and stupidly зачесала the back of the head. — And where Alena?
-Alena. She Pelageya before I managed to climb out the window. Too scared, probably, poor fellow.
I looked around and it seemed to me that everywhere loom, toss some vague outlines of the shadows.
-Come on, John, I want to see Peter.
We entered into the house through the door, passed the bathrooms were in the just ended the fight. Light does not ignites. Flashed me a burning match, and in its dim light on the floor stood crouching corpse, which was oozed and растекалось on the floor something dark. The room smelled terribly of decaying flesh.
-What is it? I asked the risen a little further back of the satellite.
-It decomposes.
I got sick from this sweet luscious stinking smell, and we hurried to leave the room, slamming the door.
-I found at the top of any strange books, and one of them, as you say, red, with embossed on the title page of the gold sign. It lay some letters, the very old, in the hands of the right break.
What have you managed to read?
-Only a few scraps of letters. It was said some terrible things.
-But isn't that scary? Ivan showed on the door, which was lying nasty corpse. — Why you did not believe my word? Do you had to read something to make sure that my words will not cheating?
-But your behaviour at times so strange that actually attend obsessed with the thought: "Yes, in fact, is not a fool, is it?" all the village says that you're not in your right mind.
The shepherd was silent, with lowered head, then said, and looking down at his feet:
-Well, be here and I'll go get Alena and Пелагею. They must be hiding somewhere.
He left.
I was alone, and again I became scared. Just before dawn Ivan returned with Alyona and Pelageya saw me sitting on the doorstep, прислонившимся to the door and tired from a busy and tedious waiting. Old woman and young girl, too, were pale and seem very exhausted last night.
I would now not wanted only to fall and to fall asleep, which I did, barely reaching a trestle bed at night slept Alena.
I woke up in the evening. Head раскалывалась from the unbearable pain. Pelageya fumbled at the plate. I got up and went to her:
-Where's Alena, grandmother?
'My father is gone.
-Everything is OK with it?
-Yes, everything seems-so how are you, really? Has suffered a great deal? — she turned to me.
-Yes, I suddenly found myself thinking, what really wish it was a dream, let scary, but a dream and not reality, and passing Pelagia room, as if in confirmation, found on the floor there is nothing, not even a trace from the past incident.
-Pelageya Panteleevna, and where the corpse?
-I removed it so said the lady, as if done this every day.
-How to have removed? And what is the evidence?
-What evidence? It by the morning am withered whole. From him, some bones, Yes ashes remain.
-Well, as the police? If she comes?
-What is the militia?! Should it hurt her. That it investigate, what to look for? Here, won. The man was lost, and nothing!
-Who's missing? — I was suspicious.
-Yes Petrova wife and her daughter at the same time gone where-t — Pelageya for a minute away from cooking. — And the neighbors say, "What are you, grandma, you're worried, may, in the city she drew. She is now free bird, a widow. Bringing her here?" Daughter under his arm and into the city, do it here: my husband is not, who will now feed? And there she and the factory or the factory for a job. But I t know that it is not in the city she leaned that
-Where have they disappeared? — However, on a heavy silence Pelageya I guessed what had happened. — Do...
However, and ask nothing else was necessary as everything was clear.
The old woman again to cook, I climbed up to the attic. Now here in the sun, coming through the hole and the hole in the roof, stood column of dust. All was still припорошено thick layer of dust. Books lay in the same place. I took the one in the red cover with gold stamping, and opened on the page where the beautiful calligraphic handwriting was made the last entry in a strange language. Half of the book sheets remained unfinished and shone well-preserved, polished, coated, white paper. Not immediately able to understand me intricate ornament of unfamiliar words, and, desperate and having met with anger shut the book, I suddenly caught the meaning of the last entry:
"Today. 13 July 1720 from the Nativity of Christ at the monastery on the invitation of the Abbot came doctor of black and white magic — name was carefully замазана, that help the poor to the brotherhood of our get rid of the above adversity".
I leafed through a few thick, rustling pages of the book and read another one by the same author:
"In the monastery's garden brothers in his multitude observe the appearance of the Ghost, who become accustomed to magnify — White monk. The Ghost is walking through the garden, wanders through the night in the corridors of the castle. He attributed depravity and debauchery, soluble among the monastery peasants, and, to everyone's shame, and among our brotherhood. White monk is attributed to the manifestation of the power of the impure force. Возобладавшей over our home. How could she resist the will of the Lord, not even clear to the Abbot, who, however, is not involved in the fight against evil, but only twice a day falls in the cellars of the monastery, and examines the monastery Treasury. Could attack this happen because not all the brethren our sincere and diligent in prayer and obedience. The facts that are known to me afraid even to betray paper, and mostly belong to the parish priest at which I am especially close. However, our Lord, they are known, and, may be, he sent us his forgiveness and gave us in the power of demonic forces. I do not know what will be next, but the times come scary. Severe wrath of the Lord, and all we, poor, deserved his punishment for violation of the Charter of the monastic life. And I'll pray to the Lord for the salvation of the soul".
Thumbing through the book and further reading some notes, more than anything like these two records, I discovered. All the rest was like accounting reports of the coming of taxes and levies taxes from around lying lands in favor of the Church, and of the expenses that were holding the monks on the content of the monastery and its Genesis.
Closing the book on a brass buckle, I put it aside, and went down the passage and out on the porch.
The sun was already down for the forest. The sky became pale pink, rare clouds on it felt begun to blush density purpura, окрасившись purple and orange tints. Above to the Zenith sky gradually darkened and passed into the blue, and then in blue tones. Forest edge merged into one dark band with a torn upper edge, uneven, where sharp and where eaten teeth впившуюся in delicious amethyst the pink flesh of heaven.
Idyllic picture, frozen like the forever seemed to be painted on the canvas of a skilled artist. But the night fast approaching, carrying with them the fears, suddenly became not a fiction, and a part of my life, and I very much like to come this night.
However, it was necessary to somehow prepare for it, to this night, and I went round the house, and shut tightly all the shutters. On the porch out Pelageya and angrily asked:
-What are you doing-t?
"What is it?
-Why Windows-t all позаставлял?
By night getting ready, so no one climbed into the hut.
-Well, I-t now what to do?
-And what?
-In-house-t dark. And electricity since yesterday, no.
-Why?
-And I know-that
-Well, I now see what the posting.
-What, are you crazy or what?! Light-t no yesterday in the entire village.
-Yes, the message was confusing to me, and I just sat on the porch in his impotence before the element of darkness, насевшей top and has straddled my destiny. — Well, I open the window.
Quickly it grew dark, and Pelagia, and not having time to finish cooking, took off my chest mattress on the floor, opened оббитую iron cover and found the kerosene lamp.
-Why-so-Kerosene W, where take-t? In the cellar there. So, grandma thought. — Should the neighbors go. Maybe go?
-Whoever it is I know?
-And what? You zato-t all know.
-Yes, especially after the death of Peter.
Pelageya was silent, thought for a moment, but then agreed:
-Okay, herself go-T.
Groaning and holding his side, she left the house, and I sat on the bench at the table, poured from the pot potatoes and meat in a dish, pour on the touch in an earthenware mug from a small jug of milk, listening to the sound наполняющегося vessel, and began to chew slowly arguing that it really is time to leave. All this, and the time drew: the holiday ended.
Sitting in the dark, alone, with a scanty meal in a strange house, never посещавшемся me, I suddenly had a strange feeling. It was the homesickness, which I had not woke up the sons of affection. I wanted to go home. And from what time to go back to mother, remains absolutely nothing, and, barely coming, we would have to immediately leave, and from the fact that it is unknown when and how will I get out of this swamp, rage suddenly took possession of me, and wanted to turn the place upside down and break that no hitting arm.
Time was spent stupid and unimaginative. Now we had with sadness and pain tell himself that vacation was dull and not as I would like. What prevented me shake its on the South, the sea somewhere, because pocket was full of money? That brought me to this godforsaken hole where, moreover, in dull and muddy from hopeless boredom water, still waters run deep, drooping of the life of the local countryside had not one frost two, and the whole Horde of demons? I thought, if not all, most of the villagers muddy water, diligently striving to overtake one another. And at what here the barbarian, even if she is a witch? Was she one the strength to make life intolerable and disgusting, what is it now? However, the life, it is everywhere today, and such. Hopeless...
