My grandfather Ivan Malakhov lived with his family all his life in Belarus - in the village of Lipsk, Pukhovichi district, Minsk region. He was a very kind and fair person. He was respected in the village - he knew how to treat pets, and he did not refuse to help people.
It's hard to believe it, but he only healed with prayers known to him, and maybe with conspiracies. He sentenced them in a whisper and stroked the sore spot with one or the other side of the knife. The treatment was almost always successful, and grandfather Ivan did not take payment. Local old people still remember him …
My grandfather really wanted to pass on his secret science to me, but he didn't have time, he died. Until now I regret that I did not join his knowledge. But, apparently, my grandfather's genes still leaped in me - I became a veterinarian, defended my Ph. D. thesis … But I continue the story. Grandfather Ivan and grandmother Maria had four daughters. One of them is my future mother Lena. By the way, I learned this story from her.
One late evening, as the family was about to go to bed after supper, there was a knock on the door. A blizzard was howling in the yard, it was cold, but the grandfather was not surprised, because they often came to him for help. Grumbled just for show:
- Who is still not easy to wear there?.. - got out of bed, where he just lay down, and went to open it.
My grandfather returned with an unknown old man of average height. The latter, entering, took off his hat with earflaps. The girls had already climbed onto the stove, lay there quietly and only looked at their guest with curiosity. The stranger was gray-haired, dressed in an old, patched coat of an indeterminate color, powdered with snow, and a dirty gray scarf around his neck. On my feet are old felt boots, a hat in one hand, and dark woolen mittens in the other.
- Good evening, glorious people! Thank you for letting me in to warm up. It's chilly outside, all chilled.
His voice was hoarse, but he spoke the words clearly.
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“And the people in your village do not like travelers,” he continued. - I walked around a dozen houses, and no one let me in. I don't blame them - they are afraid of strangers.
- Take off, dear man, coat, come in, sit down at the table. Believe it - the potatoes are still hot. You will have some tea and you will warm up, ” grandfather Ivan suggested to the guest.
While the guest was washing his hands, the grandmother set the table. The grandfather's family lived poorly, they did not pay on the collective farm, and it was hard. But guests were always welcome. Grandmother Maria put a pot with potatoes on the table, from which steam was still rising, cut off a large slice of bread, gave an egg, an onion, two cloves of garlic, pickles in a bowl, and half a bottle of moonshine, which my grandfather kept for the guests. He himself never drank.
We met. It turned out that the stranger's name was Ignas. He agreed to drink a shkalik, as they say, for warmth. I ate neatly, but not much. After eating, he said that he was going to Maryina Gorka to see his son, but a blizzard found him on the road. Then he thanked his grandfather and grandmother and wanted to get dressed to continue the journey. The grandfather was immediately indignant:
- But where are you at night, in a blizzard! Stay overnight. Here on the bench the wife will lay a sheepskin coat, and rest. The house is heated and warm. You will not bother us, we are behind the curtain, and our daughters are on the stove - there is enough space for everyone.
When everyone had settled down, the grandfather put out the kerosene lamp, and the house was plunged into darkness and silence. Only a dog howled far away in the village, and at times a blizzard threw a handful of snow out the window, and again silence …
Mom said that in the middle of the night she woke up from an inexplicable alarm and heard a vague noise from the attic. The grandfather and grandmother did not sleep either, my mother heard them quietly whispering about something. Then from the darkness came the soft, husky voice of a stranger. The words were clearly distinguishable, but they seemed completely meaningless.
The stranger repeated only two words:
- Tudy-syudy, tudy-syudy, tudy-syudy …
He spoke like this for two minutes. And at that time, someone was running around the attic: in the silence of the night, rapid steps were heard, the creaking of ceiling boards, moaning-squealing …
Adults and children lay spellbound. We didn’t feel fear, but we didn’t want to move or get up. Weakness swept over, indifference to everything … Grandfather and grandmother no longer whispered and also lay in silence. The sisters next to Lena quietly snored in their sleep. Mom was surprised that the grandfather usually, even if he heard some incomprehensible rustle at night, always went out into the yard and found out what was the reason. And here he lies and is silent.
Finally the stranger fell silent, there was silence until ringing in her ears, and Lena somehow immediately fell asleep. In the morning, the parents got up, as usual, early - to manage the housework. The stranger, as it turned out, had already dressed and was waiting to say goodbye, to thank for the shelter. He refused breakfast and left at the beginning of the winter dawn …
At breakfast, the parents discussed the nighttime incident. But grandfather Ivan said that these were, they say, all the freaks of a blizzard, blizzard, wind. And everything was quickly forgotten - there was a lot of trouble around the house …
On the second day, the grandfather climbed into the attic and was stunned by what he saw: there, in the corner, there were two large sacks full of flour - wheat and rye!
When my grandfather came down from the attic, he was pale as a sheet. At first, no one believed him, his wife and daughters climbed into the attic to be sure. It was like this: two bags were there in the corner. They were scared. We thought that this Ignas was a thief or a bandit from the high road, and his accomplices dragged us these bags in gratitude at night.
They were afraid to declare to the authorities, the Bolsheviks could not believe and shoot or send to the settlement. They waited to see if there would be rumors that somewhere a warehouse, a mill had been robbed, that they were looking for stolen flour. But everything in the village was quiet. To throw away the flour at that difficult time would be blasphemy, recklessness and a great sin.
And in a distant village there lived an old man who was said to be a sorcerer. This person could predict the future, guess. It was this old man who told grandfather Ivan that a man who had power over evil spirits spent the night. It was he who, in gratitude for the bread and salt, ordered the devils to bring us sacks of flour to the attic.
Whatever it was, but the bags appeared, they were there, in the attic, mother and sisters saw them, touched them, and then grandmother baked bread from this flour. How these sacks got there is a mystery … At that time, my grandfather and grandmother had only half a sack of rye flour, it was in the closet in the entryway.
Or maybe the old man from the neighboring village was right ?!
Vladimir Antonovich Penkevich, Belarus, Smilovichi village, Minsk region