Having settled as a 16-year-old girl in the smallest room of a student dormitory, I was the last to be ready for the horror stories that awaited me in the capital's dormitory.
Neighbors often burned matches before lying on the creaking bunk beds. Mumbling something under his breath, apparently, they were driving out evil spirits. Probably, subconsciously, I hoped that the power of the flame they ignited would reach my humble corner.
The stories about the evil spirit, as expected, arose out of nowhere under the cover of night.
That night, which my friends and I still remember with a shudder, after another empty chatter, we fell asleep at all not a sweet dream. I remember how my hand was gripping the edge of the iron bed, and the light blanket suddenly began to weigh at least a ton, and as if someone had grabbed by the throat. I wanted to shout, beg for help, but in difficult times the voice treacherously hid. Dream and reality mixed into one - it was impossible to make out the blurred boundaries. Believing Kazakhs call these sensations "bastyrylu", when demons try to strangle the sleeping person. But it wasn't just sleep paralysis.
When she woke up in the morning, the neighbor told me something that made my skin creepy. In the middle of the night, she suddenly opened her eyes and saw a slender girl with long yellow hair in front of her. The stranger quietly entered the sleeping quarters and silently sat down next to one of us. In a moment, not a trace of the strange guest remained. From the frightened eyes of the narrator it became clear that she was not fantasizing.
Rubbing our eyes, we gradually returned to reality, which in the light of day, it seemed, could not frighten us more. But traces of blood on the legs of the bed finally finished off the dumbfounded us. In addition, the laptop left on the table in the evening ended up on the other side of the room.
So what happened that night? Did someone from the other world, through an invisible portal, whose doors are opened by the keys "darkness" and "nightmare", disturbed us? Who was that yellow-haired girl who appeared under cover of the night - a hallucination of a tired teenager or a real ghost?
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Since then, this gloomy night, embellished with mystical tinsel, we have repeatedly discussed, shrinking and blinking a flashlight.
On the eve of American All Saints' Day, Halloween, I tried several times to scare my neighbors with fictional stories about people who had risen from the dead, but all attempts were literally smashed to smithereens. Either a jar of eggplant slips out of the hands, leaving bold orange dots on the ceiling, or a teapot with tea leaves "kisses" with white curtains. Perhaps this is how mysterious forces warned that they were bad jokes …
Ayguzel Kadir