This story was told by Sergei Alekseevich Simonov, who in the 1980s was actively involved in the study of UFOs and other anomalous phenomena. It happened in 1985 in Uzbekistan, when an uncle of Simonov's friend died in one of the villages. After that, the friend was going to inherit a house - huge and empty - with a vineyard.
The story is divided into two parts - on what happened in the spring, when the friend's mother and brother were at the funeral, and on what happened in the autumn that same year, when Simonov's friend came to that house himself.
In the spring
When the friend's uncle died, he was buried in a Muslim way, that is, on the same day he died, before sunset. This did not mean at all that the Uzbeks deliberately neglected our Orthodox traditions: my uncle had lived in the village from time immemorial and, as they say in Central Asia, became obsequious, and the Uzbeks took him entirely for “their own,” and therefore buried him, as is their custom.
And so the uncle's own sister and his nephew (friend's mother and brother) were left alone after the funeral to spend the night in a huge empty house in a strange village.
At about twelve in the morning the door opened, and a "very small woman" entered the house - a little over a meter tall. Mother and son were sitting at the table, and she, without saying hello, sat down right there. She sat in silence for a minute, then she says:
- All the same, you will not live here!
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It sounded very evil.
The second version (Simonov's friend for some reason did not remember this short phrase very well) sounds like this: "You cannot live here."
Having made this strange statement, the "dwarf" went out through the same front door, and even slammed it hard (plaster fell).
The sister of the deceased felt uneasy. But first of all, she thought that maybe her brother had a relationship with this woman, and they came! We haven’t talked for so many years, but here it’s as if the property was appropriated. What if she has her own rights to this house (meaning the legal side - that, they say, this unfamiliar woman cohabited with her uncle). What if she has her own views? Yes, and he was lost, this house, they did not come for it.
But it is not known what the deceased's nephew thought, because he fell asleep right at the table, so deeply that his mother did not wake him up until 9 o'clock in the morning. And the poor woman herself did not close her eyes, because she still guessed and later checked the door, which, of course, turned out to be tightly locked, even in the evening. It turns out that the woman communicated with evil spirits, most likely with a kikimora!
It goes without saying that neither my sister nor my nephew stayed in this house for a minute. And upon returning to Tashkent, the woman took to her bed and did not get up: she died almost immediately, after her brother. The meeting with the evil spirits was too shocking for her.
In autumn
Autumn came and Simonov's friend, who was the deceased's eldest nephew, invited Sergei Simonov himself to go to look at the house and help a little with repairs. Two more friends went with them - big and physically strong guys. One of them spoke Uzbek.
Entering the house and examining it, they visited the hall, where, not in Uzbek, there was a dressing glass, upholstered furniture, a wall, and the windows were closed with heavy curtains, dusty from the time of the funeral. Anyone who has been to Uzbekistan knows that half a day there is enough for all the furniture to become dusty and the room becomes uninhabited.
The windows overlooked a canopy, behind which (and on which) grapes grew thickly. It was impossible to enter the hall bypassing the porch and the adjoining room. Above the vineyard from the side of the entrance to the house, vines, hung with ripe tassels, stretched along a canopy to the roof. On the right, along the facade, the house passed into a shed, built just as soundly. And in front of the barn, my uncle had already prepared a pile of new slate for repairing the roof. There were so many slates that they could block the whole house.
Four healthy young men were busy cleaning the house and yard all day. The next day they were going to repair and paint something, especially since the materials were found both in the yard and in the barn. For dinner, as usual, we decided to “relax”. But, of course, in moderation, since drinking in Uzbekistan is not very accepted either among Muslims or among representatives of other faiths - in particular, because of the dry climate.
After dinner it was still hot, and they sat down on the sofa in front of the house and smoked, talking in the dark.
Suddenly, the curtains in the hall of my uncle's house parted sharply! The moonlight, in whose rays the room was now seen through, did not highlight anyone's presence. But along the corridor and in the first room heavy male steps were heard. Not at all frightened, the friends waited (intuitively) - who will appear on the porch? But no one came out: the front door creaked and moved.
But the same heavy steps sounded … on the roof of the awning. The roof could be seen to bend under these steps. From the shed and the house, the steps spread to the roof of the barn. And then, unexpectedly jumping over (a jump from the roof was clearly audible) onto a pile of slate, they began not only to rattle over it, but also to destroy it! In the moonlight, the men saw debris and slate splashing.
Friends, of course, did not spend the night in the house. A friend, who knew Uzbek, asked for the night to the neighbors, and they talked to the neighbor until late or until the morning about his uncle, home and other things, trying not to remember the recent obsession. True, they asked if the neighbor knew "a very small Russian woman." The Uzbek shrugged his shoulders: there were no Russians in the village except the deceased.
But the neighbor's son, a schoolboy, admitted that both then, in the spring and now, in the fall, when he goes to school in the morning, at the house of a deceased Russian, he sees a tiny little man who sits in his uncle's cap, holding on to the chimney, and looks sadly on the road. But the little man is a man, not a woman.
Finding in the morning that not a single whole sheet remained of the slate, the nephew almost without hesitation also decided not to deal with this house anymore. Left the inheritance to the mercy of fate! The friends got on the bus and drove off to Tashkent.
From the book "Secrets of the Third Planet"
