They say that there is no death, and those who have left live some kind of life of their own. And sometimes they come to us to remind about themselves. This is the only way I can explain several mysterious cases that happened in our family and with my neighbors.
Steps in the room
I was born in the village, I don't remember my grandmother. But her parents said that after her death they clearly heard her steps in the evenings. Electricity had not yet been supplied to the village at that time, and, after extinguishing the lamp and going to bed, they heard the spanking of bare feet from the table to the Russian stove.
The ghost reached the stove - and everything was quiet until the next evening. This was repeated until the fortieth day. Then it all stopped. During her lifetime, my grandmother slept on the stove …
Sandro
My neighbor Olga's husband Sasha died. He was a large, tall blonde and loved his wife very much. He was very ill, felt that he would soon die, and kept saying to his wife:
Promotional video:
- At least a dog or a kitty, but to be near you!
On the ninth day after his death, a neighbor left the store and noticed a large white dog at the door, which walked in front of her straight to her house. The neighbor already had a small dog. The big dog sat down next to her and did not go anywhere.
Since that time, Olga has ceased to yearn for the deceased. She had the feeling that Sasha had returned to the house. The new dog accompanied Olga to the store, on business to the city, to the forest for mushrooms and berries. Olga named the dog Sandro.
She even "consulted" with him on some everyday issues: whether to buy new boots for the winter, who to call to chop wood, when to start digging potatoes. The dog looked at her with intelligent eyes. If he did not agree with Olga's decision, he put his head on his front paws.
Three years later Olga, a young and prominent woman, remarried. Sandro disappeared immediately after the wedding.
The Living Are Afraid of Me
One fall, late in the evening, my sister and I went to our parents in the village. All day before the trip, I could smell the food. I associated it not with the New Year's holidays, but with the funeral, since the road to the cemetery was covered with fir branches.
Together with us, a dry old woman got off the bus in a long dark skirt, a plush jacket, a white flowered scarf and a knapsack on her shoulders. It turned out to be on our way, and we started talking. It turned out that she once knew our grandparents. Grandma even gave her a white shawl with flowers and tassels for her wedding.
Our conversation was interrupted by the noise of a stopped car. Two drunks got out of the car. They headed straight for us, but the old woman waved her cane, and the hefty men backed up into the car. They left. Having recovered from our fright, we were surprised to ask the old woman what had happened.
“Many living people are afraid of me,” she smiled, “but you walk calmly, no one will touch you. I will turn onto this path, go to my place in Osokino.
At home, we told our parents about a strange old woman.
“Your grandmother gave such a scarf for the wedding to Aksinya,” my mother recalled. - She died with her in one year. And no one has lived in Osokino for a long time, the village is abandoned.
So the deceased grandmother's friend thanked her granddaughters for the gift.
Nadezhda SHITOVA, Omutninsk, Kirov region