This strange story happened to me back in 1998 on Christmastide. We were then students of an art school and, as a rule, we celebrated almost all holidays together with fellow students. Like many artists, we were romantic natures, slightly more influenced by all mystical.
That evening they gathered at a friend of Sveta's. As usual, they remembered the old New Year with a bottle of champagne and then remembered that it was not too late to tell fortunes. There were five of us: four girls and a guy (my future husband Igor).
By the way, I then treated fortune-telling with a grain of irony and youthful passion. Perceiving the results obtained skeptically, but not denying the possible. On the one hand - "why not …", but on the other hand - "oh well, nafig …". I think my friends felt the same way, so the atmosphere in the room was relaxed.
We started with the easiest fortune-telling: pouring wax into water. And what did not just freeze there! Hearts, bouquets of flowers, strange animals, letters and even … khym … "he"! The degree of fun increased. Igor constantly amused us.
Then they began to guess from the book, arbitrarily naming each other a page, a paragraph and a line. This lesson calmed us down a little, setting us in a romantic mood. I just dropped the words "… and he came to her with a bouquet."
Then one of us remembered (perhaps myself) that there is one more fortune-telling with a book.
Honestly, I don’t remember which book we chose for such an important role, but perhaps we took the first one we came across from the shelf. They put scissors between the pages, leaving the rings outside, tied with a ribbon. They turned off the light, instead of him, to give a more mystical atmosphere - lit candles. One was on our table, the other two in a niche in the closet. The room was plunged into a cozy twilight.
After consulting with the girls, they decided to invoke the spirit of A. S. Pushkin. Naturally, Pushkin is our everything! Each of us in turn took up the rings, saying "Come Spirit!" We asked questions, the book rotated: to the left "no", to the right "yes".
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I must say that not every question the book "reacted" to. Igor, as the most skeptical-minded comrade, refused to participate in our "obscurantism", so only we, the girls, were out.
Pushkin soon bored us, and my best friend offered to call F. M. Dostoevsky. Moreover, the book of his authorship was quickly found on the shelf.
Here it is necessary to digress and describe a little the decor of the room. Opposite the entrance, as in all decent houses, the entire long wall was occupied by a "wall". Soviet, polished, with plastic vignettes and a mirrored cupboard. Just opposite this cabinet was a table, on both sides of which we fit so well. And on the left side of the entrance, the sofa on which Igor was sitting and constantly amused us.
So … My turn has just come, my friend and I evoke the spirit of Dostoevsky, but the book does not react. And how to react in such an environment? Continuous chuckles, conversations and comments. True, I tried to calm down my friends, they fell silent, but not for long.
Thinking that Dostoevsky had rudely ignored us, I was distracted by Igor as I saw that his face had changed dramatically.
"Look at the candle …" he whispered.
A candle burned on the table in front of us, reflected in the mirror of the cupboard. Turning abruptly, I managed to see how the candle flame broke away from the wick and, having risen up, about ten centimeters from it, fell back! In disbelief, I looked at her in the reflection of the mirror, but there the picture was the same. In a ringing silence, we watched the flame rise and fall again!
In an instant, the fingers slipped from the scissors rings, and the book fell on the table.
To say that we were scared is to say nothing! We quickly turned on the light, blew out all the candles. They unraveled the book, immediately putting it in its place in the closet, as if it was she who caused the inexplicable. They discussed what they saw for a long time. In our company there was a student of physics and mathematics - my best friend (the one who suggested calling Dostoevsky). She immediately said that this is impossible!
What assumptions we did not put forward then, but not a single law of nature explained this phenomenon. At least no one has ever seen the fire that went free floating from the candle.
The more we talked about this topic, the more terrible it became for us in this apartment. As a result, we retired to our homes, and I sheltered Sveta for the night at my place. (Her mom was on night watch).
I don’t know, maybe this story will seem to someone completely devoid of mysticism, but to be honest, the interest in fortune-telling passed with us immediately and for a long time. We will remember that evening for the rest of our lives.
PS I sent this story to the newspaper "The Steps of the Oracle" and it was published in # 2, 2011. and was called "Dancing Flame".
Copyright: Julia Kirtaeva, 2016. Certificate of publication No. 216121901366