Before this incident, I did not believe in the existence of something otherworldly, and I was skeptical about the stories of my friends and relatives about all kinds of “babays”, considering them overly impressionable, sometimes even doubting their adequacy. In the spring, my father's brother bought a house in a village near the city, and according to the good old tradition I went to help him with the improvement, although I did not need it, but no one asked my opinion.
Having got on the train, I got off at the station indicated to me, and got to the village on a groove, broken "to zero", of the 1950s, on which all the bumps were felt on my already sore spine.
My uncle met me at the track. After greeting, we went to him. As we walked, I looked at the village, which consisted of 40-50 houses, half of which were abandoned.
Stopping at one of the houses, my uncle waved his hands and smiled presentably, as if something incredible was standing before us.
Before us was a house … or a barn. In short, the building was, to put it mildly, in a wretched state.
There was no decoration outside at all, and the house was still pre-revolutionary. But this did not bother my uncle, because he bought it "almost for nothing" and the state of the house did not bother him at all.
For me, it was easier to burn it down and rebuild it.
The inside was even worse: low ceilings, a Russian stove, creaky floors and bare wooden walls.
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“How can I live here,” I thought to myself and sat down on the bench, my uncle gathered it on the table, and we sat down to supper.
“Tomorrow we’ll fix the roof, there’s something to do for a day, then the rest, the house is still strong,” the uncle said dreamily, examining the ceiling.
- Yes, there is a lot of work here …
- Nothing, we'll manage. Eat and lie down, I made a bed for you by the window, it's warmer there, otherwise it blows a little from the door. And this, here's the bread and salt, put it by the stove, please the brownie, - and held out a piece of bread.
I looked at him as if he were crazy, but I took the bread, since it was useless to argue with him. When he came out, I put the bread back in the bag, considering such rituals to be complete nonsense.
Having settled down for the night, I began to fall asleep little by little, since tomorrow I had to get up very early.
I woke up from the mice squeaking behind the stove, and the uncle was snoring so that his ears were blocked, turning to the wall, I tried to fall asleep again.
Then a blow to the head. I turned around - there was an old iron mug, which I had not seen at home. At that moment, probably for the first time in my life, I felt very creepy, because I realized that she simply could not fall on me, and the table was far from me.
I became quiet, trying to catch every rustle. Suddenly - a blow again on the head.
I looked: there was a ladle that was hanging on the wall by the stove. It was then that I almost died of a ruptured heart - I understood that there was someone there, and he was not at all friendly.
Out of fear, I threw the ladle back into the stove, from which my uncle woke up and turned on the light. But before he did that, I saw a small silhouette by the stove and two eyes glittering in the night.
Running up to me, he looked at me and said quietly:
- Didn't put the bread?
I shook my head … He again handed me a piece of bread sprinkled with salt.
- On, put it down. It was not us who invented this, and it is not for us to cancel. Say thanks for getting off easy.
Approaching the oven, I put down the bread convulsively.
That night I could not fall asleep, I kept peering into the darkness. When I got up, I decided to look at the place where I left the treat, but instead I found only salt and small crumbs of bread.