Witchcraft lives next to us. Even if you don't believe in him. And one day I happened to see it with my own eyes.
I was visiting my grandmother in the village. In the evenings, our mob amused themselves with retelling children's horror stories about witches and sorcerers. Either they roam around the yards, now they pretend to be mistaken for black cats. Well, it's so different. And so Nastya calmly told us that people come to her grandmother and she helps them: to whom she will give herbs from an incomprehensible ailment, to whom she will whisper, if the man is drinking, to whom she will take fright.
Stories are one thing and quite another like this. Grandma conjures. Interesting and a little scary.
And since there was not much to do during the holidays, I began to visit Nastya quite often. I really wanted to see. And one day I managed to see something.
While Nastya and I were treating ourselves to tea with cakes, our neighbor Aunt Valya came and complained that their cow, Mike, was not giving milk. The udder will squeeze and the milk is eaten. Grandma promised to help. She and Aunt Valya went to a neighbor's yard, and we followed them with a tail. But first, my grandmother, strictly ordered us to be silent.
Mike was really acting weird. She looked around warily and mumbled anxiously. The grandmother ordered half a glass of milk to be milked and some wool from the cow to be combed out, drove everyone out of the barn and went out on her own. At home, the stove was melted, although it was summer, they put a frying pan on it. Aunt Vera came with an incomplete glass of milk
and a clump of brown hairs. Everyone fell silent. Grandmother poured milk into the frying pan, threw the wool. “Now,” she said, “the first to come is the one who did it. He will ask for something."
The milk hissed, the wool floated in circles, and the grandmother uttered something in a half whisper in an incomprehensible language. Everyone looked at each other in silence. And then the front door opened and the godfather of the owners entered. I think she asked for a little oil. She did not succeed in finishing, as the owner grabbed a stick from the corner and drove it, pouring strong words.
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I don’t think it coincided, but only my godfather got sick. And after that I never went to them again. Yes, and on the street bypassed.
Believe it or not - everyone's business. But since then I believe in witchcraft. I think it was real magic.