The legend of the horse phantom in Yaroslavl is well known. From time to time a ghost appears in the building of the city circus - they say it is the snow-white horse Sultan, who died 22 years ago on the eve of Christmas.
- About three years ago I was preparing a room without insurance. Very risky, - said aerialist Oleg Veniaminov. - And on the days of the winter school holidays, before going on stage in the dressing room, I heard a quiet neighing. He turned around - the white horse reared up and immediately disappeared into the air. I thought that from fatigue I started to glitches. But it was impossible to cancel the number, and went to the arena. Taking off under the dome of the circus, I suddenly made an awkward coup, and one hand slipped off. Miraculously did not die. It was then that I realized that the horse had warned me about the danger. I think this ghost is the guardian angel of all circus!
Former director of the Yaroslavl circus Anatoly Shalikov recalls:
- In 1992, our Sultan suddenly fell ill. For 16 years he went to the arena, brilliantly performed tricks. In "Horses on the Freedom" he led other horses, setting the pace. And suddenly I passed …
In the evening after the speech, the Sultan did not touch the food, he stood dejected. Trainer Stanislav Stein called the veterinarian. The latter examined the horse and said that he had a bad heart. And he kept silent about the fact that he had nothing left to live - he did not want to upset.
Stanislav stayed next to his friend. He brought the Sultan into the stall, locked the stable. Bending its front legs, the horse fell on its side. The trainer lay down beside him. He stroked the silk mane, wiped the horse's muzzle damp with tears. And suddenly I dozed off.
“Something pushed me in the shoulder,” says the trainer. - I open my eyes and see that the door to the stable is open. And the horse is not around. I ran down the corridors to the arena. In the very center of it stood my Sultan.
Stanislav said: "Let him say goodbye" - and brought the pedestals and barriers into the arena. The horse performed familiar tricks.
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- Then he bowed, went into the stall, lay down and soon died. It was three in the morning, a December snowstorm was raging outside the window, - recalls Stein. - I am a trainer for several generations, I have dealt with many horses, but the Sultan is special. He is like a man - understanding, sensitive. I still dream about it. Probably, his soul misses the arena, so he cannot part with the circus.