Watering a vegetable garden is perhaps the most tedious (especially when you have a half a hectare garden), although it is an important activity. When it's hot, you need to "water" the beds in the morning and in the evening. And then, in the summer of 2000, I, putting on hefty galoshes on my bare feet, with great reluctance wandered off to commit this next heroic act.
In my garden, a decent-sized stake was driven into the ground, on which a shell with a hose was attached. To pull it out, I had to squat down. When I released the hose and got to my feet, I saw a pretty girl running by! She was so close that her loose brown hair almost touched my face. From surprise, I lost my balance and fell into the back seat. The girl, meanwhile, disappeared behind the house.
“What an obsession? Where is the girl in my garden from? - I thought and, getting up, rushed after her.
There was no one around the corner of the house. Out of nowhere, the visitor who came to my garden seemed to have evaporated. Of course, I'm a drinker, but don't jump to conclusions! By that time I hadn't been drinking alcohol for exactly one month.
You could blame everything on fatigue, sunstroke or some kind of hallucination. Yes, only my memory seemed to have photographed this girl. Her face, although more than ten years have passed, still stands before my eyes. And so clearly that, if I were an artist, I would certainly have painted a portrait of this mysterious stranger. And last but not least, I got a clear look at her clothes. She was wearing an old sarafan, which was once worn in Russia. There were some drawings along it, and I noted that they were not entirely Russian.
Whoever I told about what I saw, no one took it seriously. Either laughed at, or just brushed off.
Several years have passed, local television sometimes began to show reports about various sights of our village of Petropavlovka and neighboring districts. Once I turned on the TV and accidentally got on one of these programs. They showed the local history museum of the neighboring town of Boguchar. I don't know why, but I always wanted to get into this museum, as if I was drawn there.
But the years passed, and, as always, there was not enough time. When they began to show on TV the clothes that they wore in the old days (these were very, very long ago, worn by local young ladies), my hair stood on end. For a few seconds, the same sundress that I saw several years ago in my own garden appeared in full screen! And the drawing is the same, and the style, and, in my opinion, even the size!
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The announcer, meanwhile, explained that the sarafan is not entirely Old Russian: it contains partially Ukrainian and Polish ornaments. Honestly, I have never seen such sundresses anywhere before, only in my garden and in a TV report from the museum!
Frankly, I myself have never believed in any mysticism and perfectly understand those people who laugh at such stories, because I myself am the same. But when one on one personally encounters such reliable facts, there are simply no words. Apparently, whatever one may say, there are still some space-time spirals, and sometimes in our world doors open to other dimensions, past or future.
Vladimir Yurievich PECHNIKOV, p. Petropavlovka, Voronezh region