As it turned out, I had to meet the poltergeist one more time in completely different circumstances.
Further events will take us to the village of Ekatino, Torzhok district, Tver region. There, the owner urgently sold the house, and the house, which he inherited. The owner, an intelligent man and a jack of all trades, having worked until retirement as a blacksmith at a factory in Torzhok, moved to live in his native village, in this home with his wife.
I put a bathhouse in the garden. I replaced the lower crowns near the house. Built a brick garage. And this village was his homeland. I promised to buy a house from him, but the time with the collection of money for the purchase dragged on. Yes, at that time, the permission of the village council was still needed. One of the first laws to protect property had already been passed, and the decision of the village council was no longer a prerequisite. But in Russia, as usual, the local authorities did not know anything about this yet. The time for registration was dragging on, the owner was incomprehensibly nervous, hurrying. I even had to deliver a liter of vodka to the chairman of the village council to speed up the purchase. Together we drank.
I will return again to what was said above. If in the process of life some inexplicable event is expected or later occurs, then one should analyze not only the event itself, but also the circumstances preceding, accompanying and subsequent. In this case, at an intuitive level, a certain invisible chain of cause and effect is traced. It happened this time too. The owner of the house was nervous, rushed with the purchase, but did not explain the reasons for such a rush. It seemed to me that the house was being sold for a financial reason. Let's say a person wants to buy a car. Say what you like, but Evgeny, that was his name, had his own apartment in Torzhok. My surprise was caused by how the owner dealt with the money from the sale of the house. He, only, bought a similar house in a neighboring village, two miles from the house sold. As they say, changed the "awl for soap". Or, as they say:caught up with moonshine, sold it to neighbors, and drank the money. That is, in this sale, there was a certain oddity for me.
The village stretched along the road, with single-row buildings on both sides. The facades of the houses on the side where the house I bought was located were facing north, and only in the middle of summer direct sunlight penetrated into three small windows, and then for a short time. The house itself was five-walled. The middle wall separated a kitchen with a Russian stove and a single room with a small stove for heating. Water was brought from their columns nearby. There was no gas stove. They used mainly electric stoves for cooking. A small new veranda was added to the house. On the other side there was an exit through an attached corridor to the toilet and barn. There was also a ladder to the attic. A hatch in the floor gave access to the earthen basement. So to speak, "typical buildings" of the past years.
I was not going to live in this house, I only intended to use it as a summer residence. So, all my subsequent stay in the house was limited to rare visits for 2-3 days. Naturally, I met my neighbors. In conversations with neighbors, the history of the house became clear, which at first I did not attach importance, therefore I did not remember in detail. It turned out that the house was once challenged, and there were certain views on it from some relatives of the previous owner, which led to a scandalous disagreement. In addition, the local foreman had an eye on the house. Unaware of the new laws, she believed that the village council would sell the house only to her and at a reasonable price. Perhaps this was the reason for the accelerated sale of the house. Perhaps the owner was really afraid that the house would be taken away from him. The main meaning settled in my memory as a scandalous story of this house, preceding the sale,and the desire of the owner to get rid of him as soon as possible.
Once in a conversation, the owner mentioned that a witch lives across the house from him. And the neighbors later confirmed this. The sorceress lives alone in a well-kept house. The son lives in Torzhok, owns a Zhiguli and visits his mother regularly.
Then the owner opened up and, with some half-hints, told that he did not live in this house. The cow has fallen. And he seemed to be hinting that something was bothering him. But I was afraid to tell in detail, probably, believing that I could refuse to purchase. It all looked strange somehow.
Promotional video:
The neighbors, as usual, looked closely at me and came to visit when they saw my car. Usually I brought wine with me and did not refuse treats, for which I quickly became a "good man" in the village. The neighbors tried to thank me, and since they had no money, the milkmaids stole milk from the farm for me, treated me to fruits from their gardens and even presented a bucket of raspberries.
I also met a witch. There was nothing witchcraft or ominous in her appearance. Not yet decrepit old woman, flowering, neat and decently dressed. In addition, she kept hives, but sold honey, it should be noted, not to everyone. Only to someone who was something she liked.
And then one day, for the first time, I brought my wife to visit the house. We arrived with an overnight stay. At night, at two o'clock, she wakes me up and whispers:
- It seems that someone is walking around the house.
I think it’s sleepy delirium. But he listened and caught the floorboards creaking quieter than usual from light steps in the kitchen. They seem to be using the washbasin, the water gurgles into the bucket. Only some muffled sounds. After all, if water is pouring out of the washbasin, then at least during the day, at least at night, the sound power should be the same. The same sounds seem to break through some kind of acoustic curtain, weak, but clearly audible. The general impression is that some kind of leisurely work is going on in the kitchen. From time to time there is a muffled creak of the front door. The wife hears. I hear it too.
“What the hell,” I think. - If anyone climbed into the house, there is nothing to take here. And if someone is a hooligan, then there is no weapon at hand for protection.
And the strange work in the kitchen continues. Overcoming fear, reluctantly got up, went into the kitchen - no one. Checked the locks on the front door - locked. I went out onto the veranda - no one.
I thought: - It happens, probably imagined. The place is new. Maybe mice, or some birds in the attic arrange fuss. In the morning it would be necessary to examine.
By that time, the wife fell asleep again. I again heard some creaks, the sound of footsteps was already in the attic. I decided to examine the house in the morning and fell asleep.
In the morning I forgot about the noisy rustles. I talked about this with my wife. She nodded her head in agreement, but later, over time, she began to deny everything.
- I don't remember - that's all.
I even took offense at her. She remembers, she does not remember. But she had such a property, if the husband talks about something, you have to agree. I was even very seriously offended by her at first. I thought he was fooling his head with his jokes. But, she stood her ground that she did not remember anything from that night. In the end, I had to believe her, although I myself never forget anything.
Or maybe the poltergeist was targeted?
Further events with the house developed as follows. I made friends with the witch, bought honey from her. Selling it to me, she told me that I would treat my wife with honey, and not all those friends with whom I sometimes came to relax. There were also women. The witch warned about this.
Soon I decided to investigate the underground, where I had not yet climbed. There was nothing in the underground, except for a remarkable find. I found an icon with three faces on the inner rubble of the earth. A very strange place for an icon, and even in a village house. I took the icon out of the underground. I can’t determine exactly, but I never heard any rustling, no creaking of floorboards and slamming doors at night.
Is it somehow connected with the icon or not, I don't know. I am an atheist, in the sense of Orthodoxy. I don't believe in Christ.
But one day Zhenya, the former owner, came to visit me. He hesitated for a long time, trying to explain something, but apparently did not dare. I asked how I live here. And suddenly, unexpectedly, evil declared that a witch was living through the house from me. I already knew about it. Then he began to clumsily explain that it became impossible for him to live in this house. The cow has died for no reason. Something similar happened to the sheep. But it was obvious that he was not speaking. I was afraid, I don’t understand, or I’ll be offended that I slipped such a house. Mumbled, mumbled, but did not dare to tell the truth. And to tell him how much I already began to guess, apparently there was something. He spoke indistinctly about envious people, and with that the witch left.
Later, spending the night in the house, he listened at night, but nothing else happened. However, the house did not work for me, as they say. I did not feel comfortable there. The wife flatly refused to engage in gardening or anything else that summer residents usually do. And generally did not like to come there. Her parents had a panel cottage and a well-groomed vegetable garden right in Tver. That was probably enough for her. And I had a growing feeling that this house would not become my home, close.
Neighbors planted potatoes for me. For wine, of course. A tractor for plowing was brought in. And in the fall, I went on business to Adler, to an exhibition. When I returned, I found a layer of snow on the potatoes. A clever neighbor, a seller from a local store, managed to clean up. A neighbor, a summer resident on the right, a resident of St. Petersburg and a pensioner, took apart the span of the fence and shamelessly stole manure from my barn. It's not a pity, but at least I asked permission. In addition, a fungus that devours wood has multiplied in the lower crown. It was not enough that the house was also burned down. I decided to sell. But the decision to sell was internally reinforced by the belief that I didn't like this house. That he is not for me. Yes, and I bought it not from a desire to have a dacha, but from excess money during the years of cooperation.
I still wonder why the nightlife at home stopped - or the witch was in the know and contributed. Either because he brought the white icon from the basement into the light. And again there is an analogy with the events in the village of Kablukovo. Not knocking, so muffled sounds of some mysterious life. Maybe there was also a shaky bridge to another world? And a witch to boot. And a divine melody from nowhere. What, in addition to everything I happened to hear in this house, will be discussed in another story.
There are some suggestions that a person endowed with special properties may take part in induced poltergeists. Such a person could enter houses while remaining invisible. Maybe he had hypnosis. He could create the appearance of activity. Only now the door of the house was locked at night.
Who knows, maybe that night a neighbor, a witch-granny, visited my house. The floorboards creaked softly, the door opened and closed, but the culprit himself remained invisible. Or there is another option for exiting the phantom body. Today there is a term - a virtual phantom. That is, a neighbor's phantom could have visited the house.
After all, the phenomena of nightlife also stopped because of my acquaintance with the witch. After meeting her, there were no more night visits.
I soon sold the house.