I have loved scary stories, ghost stories and other mysticism since childhood. Do not feed bread, let me just listen to another horror movie. Fortunately, for the summer I was sent to my aunt and uncle in the Ekhirit-Bulagatsky district of the Irkutsk region, where shamanism is highly developed, which means that people have a strong belief in spirits. Here I could have heard enough about supernatural phenomena. When I grew up, my interest did not pass and, as a student, I once chose the topic "shamanism and the spirits of the lower world" as a course work. Then I did not even suspect what my curiosity about what was happening in the other world would turn out.
Silly basso
Perhaps, I alone was really passionate about my work throughout the course. I remembered all the stories that I had ever heard from family and friends, studied a ton of books on a given topic and firmly stuck on sites with relevant content. But something was still missing, I felt it with all my being, and only one thought came to mind: I need to go to my native village - for living stories, real impressions.
On July 20, I was there. The family home, the fence, the yard and even the fence - everything somehow decreased in size, heavily overgrown with grass. I haven't been here for over five years. But the smell remained the same: spicy, with hints of wild onion goohon and quinoa, the aroma hitting sharply in the nose, as soon as you step on the ground, leaving the stuffy interior of the car.
For two days I walked around the village, drank tea from old women I knew, listened to tales of past times, found out what prohibitions there are and what is better not to do so as not to anger the spirit of the ancestors. Finishing their story, each of the grandmothers instructed me to give up the stupid venture and no longer write about what is not worth mentioning at all. But the "stupid bassagashka" (girl), as my fellow villagers affectionately called me, continued to dig in one direction. I wandered around the cemetery in the evenings in search of thrills. The old aunt just shook her head, and the uncle, who did not believe in devil or in God, laughed in his mustache and waved his hand, they say, whatever the child was amused with.
During a thunderstorm
Promotional video:
On the afternoon of July 24, my uncle asked to go out to graze the flock of sheep for him. Uncle Vova was ill, but it was still damp outside after yesterday's downpour. I readily agreed, especially since nothing came into my head.
In our village, almost every family has seven to ten or more rams. Therefore, we graze the herd in turn. In the morning we collect all over the village, then we go to the meadow, drink, go around the cemetery and stay until evening in a spacious clearing, which is surrounded by a dense forest on both sides. As a teenager, I really loved this event. Firstly, I felt like a very important person, because such a responsible task was entrusted. Secondly, she loved to look at animals, recently born lambs, which could easily be picked up.
I remember that day as today. The bright sun, stuffiness and peals of thunder, now and then excited the sky. The thunderstorm walked somewhere nearby, but could not open up in any way. The sheep circled restlessly around, I also began to fear, because the fearful animals went crazy during the rain, and during a thunderstorm they could easily rush scatteringly, not paying attention to the cries of the man and the leader of the herd.
The sky was ripped in half by lightning, and at last a downpour poured down. As expected, my charges began to rush around the clearing chaotically. Somehow, with the help of the dogs, I managed to gather them in a heap and send them towards the village. I ran, stumbling along the road, every now and then losing my rubber slippers in the mud. We walked for a very long time, but the village did not show up. Until at one moment I, thoroughly soaked and exhausted, did not understand: we are walking in a circle. Something clicked in my brain: of course! We are "led". About this phenomenon, when the Boholds confuse humans and animals, leading in a circle, I have heard more than once. And then I personally ran into it. It would seem that you need to rejoice - I found what I was looking for. But in reality everything turned out to be much more terrible and more unpleasant than it seemed. The frightened sheep bleated loudly, the rain gushed, the help dogs howled. And I was absolutely powerless to do anything. I sat right in the wet grass and called two soaked dogs to me. The males lowered their ears, tails and pressed against me. I felt how their powerful bodies were trembling, how the hearts of dogs were beating, and I realized that things were bad.
Until dusk, surrounded by sheep and dogs, I sat in a clearing. Was it scary? Not that word. My feelings could be described as horror, I was almost paralyzed by my own fear. I almost physically felt that there was someone else beside me and the animals. Periodically, my shepherd dogs began to bark at someone, then whined and lay down on the ground. The sheep huddled together in one shaggy, wet ball, covering the lambs with their bodies.
Voices, laughter, neighing horses and mooing cows could be clearly heard almost at the ear. It seemed that I was sitting right in the middle of the village street, although there was not a soul around. I could almost feel my hair turning gray and goose bumps covering my body.
"Coaxed" the ancestors
Uncle found us in the dark. He was on horseback. I got up silently and walked after him, just as silently followed by the dogs and sheep. Already at home, when I, sobbing, told about my misadventures, my uncle said that with the onset of a thunderstorm, a local shaman ran into their house. He said that he had seen the ancestors, they are angry and demand that I be silent forever. They wanted to take me. In a hurry, the ceremony was carried out, the spirits were “placated” with meat, milk, arch. All this time my uncle tried unsuccessfully to find me. He, as it turned out, heard my cries, and the barking of dogs, and the bleating of sheep, but he could not get to us. The shaman finished the ceremony around 9 pm, at the same time my uncle found me.
Do I need to say that I changed the subject of the term paper? Seven years have passed since then, and I still cannot muster up the courage to go to the village to visit my uncle and aunt. The memories and horror of that evening are too vivid.
Gerelma Ts.