Scary Christmas stories from Russian writers. What to read for Halloween: horrors of Russian literature

23.02.2019

In Moscow, good Moscow, as Karamzin called it, in previous years there lived many old people, living chroniclers of the past. Removed from the noise of the capital on Presnensky Ponds, in Zamoskvorechye, in Zemlyanoy Gorod, they quietly lived out their lives and finished their lives: a person loves to talk when he cannot act; He who acts speaks little. I recognized Moscow a long time ago and heard stories there from the Elizabethan and Catherine centuries; I saw people in yellowed uniforms, with heads as white as snow, with Kagul scars 1
That is, with scars from wounds received during the battle of Cahul (1770) during the Russian-Turkish War.

On the face and with badges for the capture of Khotin 2
Khotyn- a fortress in Turkey. Russian troops occupied it for the first time in 1739.

And the conquest of Crimea. I was still young then, but I already loved listening to their endless stories, I loved moving with them from reality to the past. When I was sad, when I was happy, I always willingly listened to kind old people who told me their own fables: they transported me to a circle of people who had not existed for a long time, vividly depicted before me the horrors of the Moscow plague, and Pugachev’s rebellion, and the Chinese embassy to St. Petersburg, and the Swedish admiral, who captivated all the Moscow beauties, forty years before our time. I have always liked Russian fairy tales, Russian stories and stories, and can I count everything that I have listened to from the good old-timers of Moscow! Can I tell you all their legends about dreams and hopes that long ago fell asleep with dreamers, about the impulses of hearts that boiled strong passions and those who have long since gone cold in the grave, about old beliefs and customs!

However, sometimes I want to tell you, my friends, some of what I myself have heard, and now, by the way, on Christmastide, listen to what I managed to hear in just one evening in the conversation of several old men.

You don’t need to know how many years have passed since one old, kind, amiable, talkative man lived in Moscow. Much, little: does it matter? I respected him as an old man and loved him as a person. I spent several hours of happy youth in his family. Then I still looked at the world through the prism of hopes, I lived in the realm of dreams. The smile of a lovely girl


And a nightingale in the shade of an oak grove,
And the sound of an unknown stream

made me happy with pure, unfeigned joy! When in the evening, around the fireplace, people gathered good family my old friend, when you revived him with yourself, you, whom I dare not name, who later gave up happiness and exchanged it for a shiny doll big world: I was happy at that time! But it's full of her! Let me tell you that our friendly conversation was sometimes embellished by the presence of old friends of our host, also talkative, cheerful and good-natured.

It was, as it is now, Christmastide.

Where could I better and more cheerfully spend a long winter evening, if not with my old friend? I'm going to see him. The weather was unbearable: snow was falling in flakes, and the snowdrifts were carried by a whirlwind from place to place. It was all the nicer to relax after a difficult journey in a warm, bright room, with happy and cheerful people.

I saw the full meeting. The owner, in his cap and Tatar robe, occupied the main place near the fireplace. Smoke billowed from the pipe of his colleague, a Suvorov warrior, next to whom our mutual acquaintance was sitting (let’s call him Ternovsky: we are already tired of the Milons, Dobrovs and Pravdins in Russian comedies). He was a kind philosopher who believed in all ghosts, all sorcerers, everything wonderful in the world and tried to explain everything, as he said, in a natural way. I’ll add Shumilov to this, kind old man, who in his lifetime traveled half of Russia, saw everything he told, talked about everything he saw, and was a keen hunter of telling Russian fairy tales. I found them having a heated argument about some matter of the first Turkish campaign. 3
First Turkish CampaignRusso-Turkish War 1768–1774

But at the same time I noticed the owner’s desire to talk about something else.

He had a strange habit of always talking about what was appropriate for the time and circumstances. In addition to the usual stories about his journey to the Caucasus, his trip to Poland and his acquaintance there with Kosciuszko 4
Tadeusz Kosciuszko(1746–1817) – organizer and leader of the Polish uprising of 1794.

(I’ll tell you about this in particular someday), he loved to talk about politics when he received newspapers, about the polar lands in winter, about Africa on a hot summer day and about ghosts on the eve of Ivan Kupala.

He turned the conversation abruptly, asking me about the weather, and informed me that all his family had gone to one of his acquaintances for the evening. “I thought,” he added, “that you would be there too.”

- No! They called me, but I refused.

- And for what? While you are young, you need to have fun and play with life. The time will come for you too, when at home, near the fireplace, you will seem more cheerful than at the ball.

– Have you always followed this rule?

- ABOUT! Yes, how I followed! My peers will not complain about me, so that I am stingy with affectionate greetings and madrigals, and in the minuet a la Reine 5
Queens (French).

No one knew better than me how to stretch his legs and greet his lady more politely. You, today's young people, are Sydney, and we were real well done.

– On the contrary, now they complain about the frivolity of young people.

– True, but this is an eternal complaint; but take a good look, you will see that you have become louts against us and are replacing everything with some kind of American savagery! There is no rule without exceptions (he added, shaking my hand). I'm talking in general. Let's start with our attire: what dandies we were! Light steel buttons, leopard, striped caftans, buckles on shoes, two watches with huge bunches of pendants; Can your dark jackets, your sailor clothes be compared with such a magnificent outfit! What about courtesy? The lady seemed like a queen in our circle; you turn your back to the ladies, push them and don’t think of respecting them.

– Do you know when it started? - said Suvorov’s colleague. - WITH French Revolution. While we were beating the revolutionaries in Italy, our ladies gasped at their tousled heads, at their liberal dress, cut their hair, put on wigs...

- But what's wrong with that? - Shumilov picked up. - All this is in the order of things: nowadays they love simplicity, less brilliance on the outside, more inner dignity.

- If only it were so! - said the owner. “But the trouble is that, it seems to me, today’s youth are the same glass dolls that we were, only we were transparent, even if you look through them, and now these dolls are painted with dark paint.”

“You contradict the natural actions of nature,” Ternovsky objected. – Light is made not worse, but better: this is a solved problem. Only our old brothers insist that the world has become or is getting worse.

- My friend! I will never say this; but the fact is that your light, becoming smarter, does not become happier.

- What is happiness? The concept is relative! Whoever gets better should be happier.

- Looks like a syllogism; Yes, your will, but before it was somehow more alive. We knew how to live better: we were young in our youth and therefore lived to see gray hair; but God knows whether our descendants will see the old people from the present time. Now they grow old so early and that is why, perhaps, they do not have time to live, or, fearing not to have time, they are in a hurry to live and therefore grow old early. We had a past, a present and a future; now they live in one present. Young people do not think about the future, and we only talk about the past; life develops like a clock weight: the clock strikes, every person says: how late! - and the words fly by with the ringing of an hour bell, until the weight hits the floor...

“Then they’ll wind it up again,” Shumilov said, laughing, “and again the clock bell begins to ring: irrevocable time flies!” This was said a long time ago.

“Perhaps I expressed my thought poorly,” answered the owner, “by saying that before they knew how to live more lively...

“Of course, more alive, like children who can admire a toy better than adults.”

- Okay, who is happier: a child with his toy or a philosopher who has exhausted himself over the truths. You say: the world has become smarter! God knows, my friend! Come on, isn't he smarter than before? I sincerely rejoice in the current philosophical age, but no matter how I look at people, they are still the same people; the same, but an important difference! Before there was more of this, how to say, joy of life, without which it is cold in the world, like without a stove in the bitter cold. If you like, it deceives us with its magic lantern, but people have fun with it.

“You look at the world from one side,” said Ternovsky.

- From the side of the heart! The naughty Voltaire was very right and probably said from the heart, ending his funny fairy tale:



Le raisonneur tristement s’accredite;
On court, hello! après la verite;
Ah! Croyez-moi, l’erreur a son merite. 6
It’s sad, but they only believe the reasoner; Chasing, alas, the flat truth; Ah, believe me, delusions have their own charm (French).


- Of course. The naked truth is not a guest yet. I'm sure she would be horrified current person, if he looked at her face to face.

- Here: you agree with me by force! Why does the world give up its youth: it’s too early and there’s no need to rush. Truth is only just emerging from its well; They give her clicks, and she hides again. The human mind still wanders in the crutches of stupidity, when severe gout prevents it from staggering in the world.

“Around the world,” said Ternovsky, “there are plenty of willing donors, but people, like peddlers, walk around shouting: “Um! Fresh mind! You unwrap the box: it’s empty.

Everyone laughed.

“What are we philosophizing about,” said Suvorov’s colleague, “there is nothing to look far for examples.” In my opinion, the old century and the new century are the same as the old silver ruble and the new.

“The comparison is not bad,” said Shumilov, “but a new ruble is still a ruble for someone who doesn’t have an old one: it’s the same in the world; and guess what? I remember when I was in Siberia and I needed to pay the Yakut shaman for his divination, I took out two rubles and wanted to give him the old one, he told me: “Teen bachka! Give me that bright one!”

- Is our century a bright one? It looks like a coin with a bad stamp on it.

- Remember the old days, buddy! - said the owner. – Our coin had a rougher, but clearer mark. Just look at the current merriment: such monotony, everything is so chilled out! They dance, make faces with joy and smile with grief. We cried with grief, but laughed with joy. I repeat what I said: before there was more life, more variety in existence!

“If you want,” said Ternovsky, “the further into the old days, the more it happened.” These are the natural actions of nature. When we win in our minds, we lose in our hearts. Our ancestors brought everything to life: they had spirits, ghosts, wizards, and we know that all these are natural actions of nature.

“And it’s a pity that we know this,” added Shumilov. – Woe to today’s poets, and that’s all: there’s nothing to copy from ourselves! And look how much they will find in our and foreign antiquity!

“And look how willingly everyone will share with us the pleasure of antiquity,” said the owner. - No! Really, we still lived, if not better, then more fun. Let’s take it simply: now it’s Christmas time. How are they different from Holy Week? We had our own way of doing everything! It used to be that we build swings about the Holy One, we roll down the mountains about Shrovetide, and we sing special songs about Christmastide.

“Look into an old age older than ours,” said Ternovsky. “We also looked more closely at these games, and our ancestors played them more themselves. Yes, and I love the old days, although I don’t agree that it was better then. I love her like a child who is carefree and innocent, afraid of the chimney sweep because he is black and jumps for joy with a firecracker in his hands.

Then a conversation began between them about antiquity, about its fun and amusements.

“Do you remember,” the owner said to Shumilov, “our Christmas evenings!” It used to be that a lot of people would gather and it'll be fun. Riding during the day: fifty sleighs ride one after another, as they say, an arc on an arc, like a wedding train; in the evening, forfeits, songs, fortune-telling will begin: we run to shovel snow, listen under the windows...

“Girls run out of the gate to ask the names of passers-by and sometimes strongly believe that this is the name of the groom, as the passer-by will say, and we will play a prank,” said Shumilov.

– Didn’t the needle in the millstone tell the truth? The poor needle squeaks, and the fortune tellers guess whose name the sufferer is pronouncing.

“You never know,” Shumilov said, laughing, “but ask me: I saw how Christmastide was spent in Siberia before.” What a holiday! What fun! Old men and women, young people, children come to visit from morning to evening. Everyone has Peters and Eders on their table, as the Siberians say. Russian hospitality is in full swing. Brushwood, tarkas, sugar bowls 7
Tarki- puff pastry. Sugar bowls- sweet crackers.

Perched on tables in mountains; samovars are boiling incessantly. The frost makes the roofs crack and the shutters fire like cannons, but the rooms are warm and hot. In fur coats, in hats, in warm boots, Siberians and Siberian women go running in crowds; there are great hunters for runners: Siberian trotters and pacers rush like a whirlwind. Having become cold, everyone goes to drink tea with the winner. Health begins, feast in abundance! The wines are boiling, it’s getting dark, games will begin: the old people sit in circles and watch how handsome man or a pretty girl, blindfolded, catches her scattered enemies under the flapping of tourniquets. Laughter! Laughter! Another, running from corner to corner, runs from the catcher into another room. "He burned!" - everyone shouts, and the criminal takes the place of the blind man. Oh! How I also like other simple Christmas games of Siberians! Do you know how poppies are grown?

- I used to be a poppy myself! - Suvorovsky cried. “It used to be that they would put me in a circle, dance, sing and ask: “Is the poppy ripe?” But first they sow the poppy, water it, it blooms, and then, when it’s ripe, they pluck everything!

“I heard,” said Shumilov, “that many Christmas games were passed down to us from the Greeks in ancient times.” Remember the game of braiding a fence, when the entire round dance is entangled with ribbons and they sing:


Braid, braid, braid.
Wind up, golden trumpet,
Wrap yourself up, you crunchy damask!

This, experts say, is an imitation of the Greek game, and with this game the Greeks glorified the memory of Theseus and the killing of the Minotaur with the help of Ariadne's thread. “And the smoking room is alive, alive” is also a Greek game. But we have our own Russian games and Christmas customs. Do you know what caroling is in Little Russia?

“I heard it, and I’m sorry that they won’t collect all the Russian Christmas customs, games, and songs in some book.” Previously, the holiday of Christmastide was celebrated until Epiphany itself. From the very matins of the first day the glorification of Christ began. Peter the Great loved this patriarchal rite. Crowds of people walked from house to house, friends to friends and strangers to strangers, singing spiritual stichera:

“Christ is born, praise!” Behind them the masters recited races 8
Racea- a long edifying discussion.

One of them is especially famous throughout Russia, this is how it begins:


New joy all over the world
Now appear to us!

In addition to dinners, feasts and conversations, evenings were devoted to games and singing sub-dish songs.

“You forget about other Yuletide amusements,” said Suvorovsky, “I still remember how in Moscow at that time there were horse races and fist fights.” I remember that the late Count A.G.O. was a terrible hunter of all kinds of Russian games. Heaps of people will gather: hurray! wall to wall... oh Russian wakeful people! And then, it happened, from a joke it comes to action...

– In small Ukrainian towns, fist fighting still fascinates everyone. Recently I passed through Bogodukhov, there was no one to harness the horses: everyone was in a fist fight; noise and shouting, and the whole city is beating!

“And you must agree,” said the owner, “whoever understands everything that happens in Rus' about Christmastide will well understand the spirit of the Russian people, cheerful, kind, glorious!” Oh Christmastide, freedom for the Russian spirit!

“And to the spirits,” Shumilov said, laughing, “you know that until Epiphany the dead, spirits, sorcerers, witches walk freely and play pranks.” They have privileged days.

– So you want to say that they don’t exist at all? – asked Ternovsky.

- Of course! I think that none of us would believe it if you said that you even saw spirits yourself.

“My dear,” answered Ternovsky, “I believe in spirits, only in my own way.”

– Tell me, please, how it is! - everyone shouted.

“Agree with me, my friends,” said Ternovsky in an important voice, “that in nature there is still much that is secret and not discovered by us.” I don't limit it in any way human feelings only known feelings, which both monkeys and animals equally possess. If we have something to contain what we call mind, then it must appear in some open phenomena.

- Consequently? – asked Shumilov.

– Consequently, everything that seems incomprehensible to us cannot be rejected, but must be attributed to this secret or these secret feelings and dispositions. That is, what I attribute to this is sympathy, the second is antipathy, the third...

– Stop dreaming, my friend! With your assumptions, everything can be led to natural consequences.

- When it is possible, why shouldn’t it be?

“Because it shouldn’t,” said Shumilov, “because all your natural consequences in this case are almost always fairy tales, distorted, changed, the fruits of a frustrated imagination.”

– Often, but not always: I will give you a lot of evidence that cannot be explained without my assumptions. For example: physiognomy, knowledge innate to man, although it is rejected, cannot be refuted by anything. Doesn't every one of us feel a sympathetic desire for one person and an antipathetic disgust from another person?

- Nonsense! This is simply some similarity in human builds, more or less close or distant to this or that person.

– So, do you recognize some commonality in humanity? And premonitions, dreams, visions of oneself: these are matters that are not subject to doubt. The Highland Scots have a special quality double vision, because their feelings are more refined than ours: they know that at such and such a time a stranger will visit them, they see him and will describe to you in advance what he is like.

– What if this is a subtle deception? - said Suvorov’s colleague.

– You cut from the shoulder, like Suvorov! - Ternovsky answered, laughing. - If I give you many examples of people who, without thinking of deceiving, saw extraordinary phenomena. Do you know that Napoleon always saw a bright star in the sky?

- And if this brilliant star was one comedy played by Napoleon for ten years: what do you say to that? Didn't Numa Pompilius have the nymph Egeria? 9
Egeria- in ancient Roman mythology, a nymph-soothsayer, the wife of the Roman king Numa Pompilius, his adviser in organizing religious life in Ancient Rome and his teacher in lawmaking.

At Sertorius 10
Quintus Sertorius(c. 122-72 BC) - Roman politician and military leader.

Didn't Mohammed have a tame deer? Did he have a tame pigeon?

- Fairy tales! - said Shumilov.

– I think it’s not exactly a fairy tale. Let us assume that many of smart people used tricks with the common people; but if we see the difference in people’s vision, hearing, touch, and smell, why not assume further boundaries even for these very feelings? I know a truthful man in Moscow who is firmly convinced that until his friend, with whom they agreed to see each other at the hour of death, appears to him, he will not die.

“It seems that this firm assurance is the whole secret,” said Shumilov. “All the signs, quirks, belief in dreams, premonitions came from her. You can train your bodily senses, and you can train your mental abilities to do many things. I knew one person, wonderful, extraordinary. It was our glorious navigator Shelikhov 11
Shelikhov Grigory Ivanovich(1747–1795) – Russian explorer of Siberia.

Have you heard of him? He firmly believed in dreams, premonitions, and omens. This is what one of his close acquaintances told me. As I see now, he told me, when we were traveling to Okhotsk together, less than a hundred miles away, Shelikhov became thoughtful, restless and said to me importantly: “When we arrive in Okhotsk, we will find a ship that came from America.” I was surprised, began to argue and brought him out of patience: he had a hot, ardent character and said to me with his heart: “So know that as soon as we leave for the Okhotsk cat, the ship will be in sight of us (a long sand spit is called a cat there) , on which Okhotsk stands). The ship is mine and with a rich cargo!” We were driving calmly, and just as we approached the sandy Okhotsk cat, a ship appeared in the sea. It definitely belonged to Shelikhov and was loaded with rich cargo. That this anecdote is reliable, I guarantee you; that Shelikhov could not have known about the arrival of the ship in any way, you yourself will agree. You need to know that Shelikhov was an extraordinary person, with an extensive mind, but so what? He believed in physiognomy, omens, and in his life he never knew failure. He amazed with his thoughtfulness, insight, and from a poor Rylsk tradesman at the end of his very short life, he made millions. His very undertaking: to sail to the then unknown America on a dilapidated boat, without shells, without supplies and guiding the way by the stars - proves his determination to hope for his own happiness, and I conclude that...

“From this I conclude,” Ternovsky said hastily, “that extraordinary people have mental and physical strength greater than ours and they are gifted with something that we do not have and, therefore, cannot comprehend.”

“Okay,” answered Shumilov, “but let them have powers unknown to us.” They themselves, in relation to nature, are under the same laws, like the rest of us.

- No! Their secret strength lies in their strong relationship with nature. And this is what was previously called spirits, ghosts: these are our secret relationships, incomprehensible to others. Before, everything was personified. Socrates called his secret power a genius and openly admitted that he had a secret genius that guided and often contradicted himself.

- You are a dreamer! - said Shumilov. “And I must remember that the imagination can act and deceive us in amazing ways.” A person in a fever does not see what he does not see, what he will not tell you, but all words are his dreams, the seduction of feelings in which the fire of fever flows. Next: you must believe the news. People love everything wonderful so much, they love to add so much, that it is impossible to rely on their stories. Add deception, dexterity, cunning. I can’t even vouch for Socrates’ genius. Maybe it was his trick. Look at a ventriloquist, a magician, a deceiver: if we did not know that they do everything naturally, how could we not consider them magicians? In the eyes of others, a person takes off his head, shaves it and puts it back on as before; water rushes into the room, floods the floor, everyone gets scared, screams, and all this is an optical, chemical prank.

10 cool Russian horror books

Not everyone knows that the “Horror” genre is generally represented in the rich Russian literature. And those who know are often skeptical about it. But I checked the site and reports: scary, very scary, and there are horrors for every taste. We recommend.

Kirill Alekseev "Fly Eater"

The novel is good because of its special cinematography. The reader’s consciousness, especially one already prepared by watching horror films, will immediately build a scene, arrange heroes, monsters and start disturbing music in the background. In addition, the plot is classic: a group of people are haunted by a childhood nightmare. A slasher film based on Russian realities turns out to be eerily close. Alekseev also has one more nice feature. Reading an ordinary horror story, we often think: “Fools, don’t go to the cemetery, don’t go down to the basement - and nothing will happen!” Our author, on the only night allotted to the heroes, simply does not give them any choice. Complete hopelessness.

What was once eaten must itself be eaten.

Alexey Ateev “The Mystery of the Old Cemetery”

This book, written in the 90s, is both creepy and funny, like the nineties themselves. The ancient evil spirits do not want to surrender to the Soviet system. Policemen, local historians, and an old-school librarian are fighting evil spirits as best they can. Against the backdrop of modern horrors with all their special effects and 18+ rating, the book may remind you of horror stories in a pioneer camp. But do you remember what it’s like to walk away from that fire into the darkness?

- What is two and two? – she asked insinuatingly.
The goat looked at her silently for a while. Valentina Sergeevna had already decided that she would not wait for an answer. Suddenly the goat said:
- What are you, du-hurray? Think about death!

Belobrov-Popov “Red Tambourine”

A village shooter with vampires, anti-Semites and the Soviet army takes on the role of our dear "From Dusk Till Dawn". There's a lot of gratuitous cruelty and sickening detail here, and it's all best read with a healthy sense of humor or a love of postmodernism. The book is bright and challenging, and the plot in it rushes at full speed, forcing the reader either to throw away the thick volume altogether, or to ooh and ahh at the unexpected potholes and turns.

This is how he imagined the Apocalypse - everything is scorched, and who the hell knows who is driving along the scorched area.

Nail Izmailov “Ubyr”

Every child at least once in childhood has to experience a terrible suspicion: what if your parents are not yours? Or not people at all? It’s scary, but you won’t complain to your mother... After the introduction, plunging you into the deepest childhood fears, luxurious action begins with an exotic Tatar flavor. Although, what’s exotic about it: American maniacs won’t get to us, they won’t be given a visa, and Izmailov’s nightmares will take the night train and come.

We stayed at night on an empty platform in the middle of fields, forests and dogs, in almost winter cold and hunger.
Not alone.
Together.

Sergey Kuznetsov “Butterfly Skin”

In the horror genre, there is no way to do without immersing yourself in the diseased brain of a maniac. Well, and at the same time into the no less unhealthy consciousness of a madwoman in love with a maniac. And it is not yet known who will win. From the spectrum negative emotions Kuznetsov chooses “disgusting and a little embarrassing.” It is especially shameful to watch the deadly dance of the heroes and suddenly feel a response to their forbidden feelings. And then, on the subway, feeling that someone is looking at the book over your shoulder, you will automatically want to cover this text with your hand, as if this way you will hide your own thoughts.

Do you remember one time I asked you how you would like to die? And you answered: “Open my chest and take my heart.” And I, having written this letter, feel: it is my chest that is opened, and it is my heart that trembles on your lips.

Igor Lesev "23"

A Tuvan witch and her henchmen are pursuing a simple boy Vitenka. Well, how can I say, simple. Vitek - terribly nasty, arrogant, stupid, cowardly Sissy, obsessed with numerology and with an incredible thirst for life. That is, he runs fast, but doesn’t think very well. Of course, the reader will not want to associate himself with the deputy’s young assistant, but he will immediately believe in his crazy adventures. And at some point you realize that you have been sucked into this ridiculous farce of horrors.

The dog howled again when he saw his master's body.
- Ada, calm down. He was still old - finally, having stepped over the corpse, I found myself on the threshold of a half-open door. - Okay, dog, don’t be bored...

Alexey Mavrin “Dogheads”

Hiding under the pseudonym Mavrin famous writer Aleksey Ivanov. So, predictably, the level of “Blood, guts, zombies come out” in this book is made lower, and the level of “Dying nature and the search for philosophical meaning"raised higher. We also have a good one here love line, interesting topic schismaticism and a high-quality atmosphere of quiet horror. It is difficult to figure out what is actually happening from the surrounding nightmare, and what is just a figment of the imagination of the main character, choking on the bitter smoke from the peat bogs.

The door to hell can open anywhere: and in old grave collective farmer, and in his own soul. In the shower it’s even more likely.

Maryana Romanova “The Dead from Upper Log”

Behind the forests, behind the mountains, in the modest Yaroslavl region, there is a village, and whoever comes there with brains will not live for three days. We're joking. In fact, Russian zombies feed on something else. And this makes it even worse. The author moves us in time and space: from the outback to the capital, from Russia to Africa, and weaves all the lines into a strong plot. The main note in this symphony of horror is anxiety. So, if you finish reading in the evening (and you, of course, will), then draw the curtains tightly, otherwise you never know who will be wandering around there in the dark.

It is easier to lean on darkness; its shoulder seems like a stronghold, especially when you are so young.

Anna Starobinets “Shelter 3/9”

The novel is based on Russians folk tales, and if you have read at least one not adapted for younger school age fairy tale, then you should already feel a little uneasy. Small child ends up in the Far Far Away Kingdom, and a young woman notices that people are looking at her strangely. And all this is connected with the end of the world. But the horror is not in Koshchei, not in the Kafkaesque transformation of the heroine. The most terrible reading will be for those who are afraid of the indifference of loved ones and have dreams about lost children or parents.

When night fell - dark, starless, icy - the boy sat down under a tree and began to think about what usually happens to children who find themselves alone in the forest at night. What happens to them?

Victor Tochinov “Creature”

If you are a fan of gore, psychopathic maniacs, a hellish mess, seasoned with Nazis and tentacles, then Torchinov is exactly what you need. This time it takes place in the gloomy suburbs of St. Petersburg, and the author’s historical and local history excursions are very plausible. The hero of the book, despite being a writer, is a serious man and confidently swings an iron crowbar. Take an example from him if you start to twitch from suspicious rustling noises behind your back.

This is him, this is Phil... - Slavik thought before falling into the abyss teeming with yellow, green and red balloons. His head also turned into a red ball - and then burst with the crimson ringing of a bronze pentagram...

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If you want to get a dose thrills, to excite your consciousness or to be frightened until a chill runs down your spine, all you need to do is pick up a book. In our review, the scariest books are from the classics fiction to documentary.



The novel “Lullaby” by the well-known Chuck Palahniuk is narrated by a reporter who is investigating the facts of the manifestation of the syndrome. sudden death babies. As his investigation progresses, the reporter discovers an ancient African spell called a lullaby. It turns out that a huge number of people use it for their personal purposes. However, the book is actually about much more than just a mystical incident.



The work “Mein Kampf,” recognized in Russia and many other countries as an “extremist” book, belongs to the pen of Adolf Hitler. The book contains elements of autobiography and from it you can see how Hitler came to the ideas of racial superiority of the Aryans, how the ideas of anti-Semitism and militarism arose in him.



A treatise on demonology, The Malleus Maleficarum, written by the Dominican inquisitors Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Sprengenr, at the time of publication was the most popular book among the clergy and the then intelligentsia. Hammer of the Witches is a must read for anyone interested in hunting, trying, torturing, and executing witches.



Alexey Konstantinovich Tolstoy is considered the person who introduced the concept of “vampire” into Russian literature. It was he who wrote at one time the work “The Family of Ghouls,” which can be safely described as “classic” horror.



"Pet Sematary" is one of the most famous and scary works Stephen King. It tells the story of the sinister Wendigo spirit from Indian legends. The book was also filmed.



The story "The Fall of the House of Usher" written by Edgar Poe is a stunning psychological horror story. The product is different interesting story and unusual, intricate logical constructions.



A true classic of detective stories and, perhaps, Agatha Christie’s best work, “10 Little Indians.” This book can be considered truly scary. She inspired and continues to inspire an incredible number of horror and detective films about the “perfect murder”.



The book “Labyrinth” is written by Franz Kafka. It includes several collections of works that writers refer to as the so-called Kafka bestiaries. Most of the works are not so much scary as they are mysterious, incomprehensible and fascinating.

"Woman in the Sands" - cult novel Japanese writer Kobo Abe. A man goes on a 3-day vacation to add to his collection of insects, and finds himself at the edge of a sand pit where a shack stands. In search of accommodation for the night, he descends on a rope ladder and stays overnight with a young woman, the owner of a wretched shack. What would happen next, he could not even imagine.



The novel “The Zinc Boys,” like all of Alexievich’s books, is piercing, truthful and bitter. “As you read, you cry non-stop, you tremble as if from cold, but you read anyway. To know. Although it’s scary,” one of the readers described his impressions.

"The Zinc Boys" is a documentary consisting of people's memories of Afghan war. These are the stories of soldiers, officers, mothers, doctors, wives, widows...

They can only be frightened by those in power in those countries where they are banned.

In general, horrors in modern life young man definitely not enough - otherwise why such crazy popularity among Stephen King, Stephenie Meyer or, in the most intellectual case, Howard Lovecraft.

What is called “Gothic” today - a special interest in the theme of death, cemetery aesthetics in clothing and makeup, flirting with evil spirits and generally a certain gloomy ferocity - is, by the way, not an invention of today. The passion for horror films is as old as the hills, otherwise why is there such undying popularity among the legends of Count Dracula, the novel about Frankenstein or the short stories of Edgar Allan Poe? In the end, all these tales about the Gorynych Serpents and Bab Yog, the resurrecting dead and talking drowned women - aren’t they horror?

However, even without Edgar Allan Poe and Frankenstein, there are plenty of horror films in cultural circulation. Along with “Kolobok” and “Turnip” in our tender childhood we firmly remember stories about “ Black hand"or "The Blue Nail" - remember how your heart sank and your hands froze when the next storyteller at the children's camp regaled us with another horror story at night?

Baba Yaga. Illustration for the fairy tale Vasilisa the Beautiful

At all times, the army of horror fans, be it oral legends, books or films, has been very young. Old age has seen such things in real life in its lifetime that it can no longer be frightened by imagined horrors. Youth is impatient: you want to experience everything, more, faster, and stronger. And, by the way, there are benefits from art in the “horror” style: by living exaggerated, concentrated emotions, a person struggles with his real fears. Who was afraid of Hannibal Lector - will he be very afraid of an unexpected doorbell?

Since there is a cultural demand for horror- there will be a cultural response to it. The first literary horror story is considered to be a novel by Horace Walpole, Earl of Oxford, called The Castle of Otranto (1764). The noble count published the novel anonymously - since until now he had only written journalism and historical notes befitting the occasion. And here - such bad manners: military armor falling from heaven, bleeding statues, voices from the underworld, black hands separated from the body and other nightmares. Then there was Mary Shelley with the famous “Frankenstein” (1818), Sir Montague James, who laid the foundation for the “ghost” novels - in general, foggy England happily developed this complex genre.

But suspect Russian classics of being partial to horror?

Meanwhile, he worked out great for them.

Any Russian-speaking reader will easily remember the chilling “Viy”; readers with a little more experience will re-watch “The Night on the Eve of Ivan Kupala” with a shudder - Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol knew how to scare properly.

But he was not the first. The first, as usual, was Pushkin.

Illustration for the story by N.V. Gogol "Viy"

In fact, the fashion for the otherworldly was brought to Russian literature by English romanticism, which it saw in literature "horror" great visual possibilities. Romantic writers were desperately looking for some other reality, some other world in which human life would be subject to the laws of supreme justice and cosmic harmony - because in this visible reality, neither justice nor harmony was observed. Romantics placed their heroes in exotic countries and to distant islands - but there people from “our” world turned out to be strangers and could not take root in any way. Romantics tried to reify the world of dreams and memories - but the hero inevitably woke up and again found himself in the disgusting “here and now.” Death remained - perhaps, where everyone is equal in the face of eternal oblivion, under the supervision of inexplicable but omnipotent forces, there is Truth, and Justice, and Law? The romantics, however, did not attach particularly terrible features to the pictures of the “other” world, did not overuse physiological details or naturalistic details - but the very touch of death exuded coldness. Let's remember the ballad Zhukovsky "Forest Tsar"- it seems like nothing so terrible, but - scary. Gogol's hobby dark side the universe - from the same place, from a special refraction in his soul, open to mysticism, of the romantic tradition.

Pushkin the romantic did without horror and was extremely realistic: his heroes sought happiness either in a gypsy camp, then in the Caucasus, or in recent and documented history. But Pushkin the realist once took it and wrote a story in the horror genre.

True, like Sir Horace Walpole, at first he hid behind a pseudonym: his “Undertaker,” a story about the living dead and fast-sleeping carpenters, is included in “Belkin’s Tales.”

Illustration for A.S. Pushkin's story "The Undertaker"

The first phrase of the story sets the tone. See: " The last belongings of the undertaker Adriyan Prokhorov were loaded onto the funeral cart, and the skinny couple trudged from Basmannaya to Nikitskaya for the fourth time, where the undertaker was moving his entire household" Until the first comma, the reader is sure that Adrian Prokhorov is dead (“ latest belongings", " funeral drogues"). From the first to the second comma, one is perplexed: why would a dead man be transported with his belongings four times? And, finally, the final part of the phrase places us in that same “double world”, in which it is not clear where what reality is: whether the undertaker moved from the world of the living to world of the dead(it’s not for nothing that the verb “moved”, often in “mortal” idioms, is used, and not, say, “moved”) or changed his place of residence here, in the real world. The atmosphere is created, frightening afterworld and incomprehensible reality are densely mixed up in the narrow beaker of a small story.

Further - everything is in accordance with the best laws of the genre. Here is the transition from reality, in which Adrian participates in a merry party, to mystical events in which the dead will appear to him: “With this word the undertaker went to bed and soon snored. It was still dark outside, like Adriana woke up. The merchant's wife Tryukhina died that very night, and a messenger from her clerk rode to Adriyan on horseback with this news“That is, the reader is absolutely sure that the undertaker is not sleeping - he was woken up. Prokhorov begins to fuss with Tryukhina’s funeral, receives the dead as guests, is scared to death by them - and wakes up. It turns out that where the author wrote that the undertaker " woke up - it was already a dream. But we understand this only when the whole dream has already been accepted as reality. What's Pushkin like?

“The Undertaker” ends with seemingly nothing. Adriyan, having found out from the worker that there were in fact no merchant Tryukhina or overnight guests, sighs with relief and exclaims: “ Well, if that’s the case, hurry up and have some tea and call your daughters.”. However, the reader cannot escape the feeling of anxiety: no, everything cannot end so simply, maybe the worker is a dead person herself? Maybe the other world has completely swallowed Adriyan? What then is the point of Pushkin’s horror if everyone now sits down and just starts drinking tea?

In search of an answer to the question, we turn over and over again a couple of pages of this miniature story, until we finally come across an epigraph (a rare reader reads epigraphs). And he says: “ Don't we see coffins every day,
Gray hair of the decrepit universe?
“I immediately remember the first phrase, the same one where Prokhorov’s belongings are on the funeral road (is it a coincidence that the undertaker’s name is “ Prokhorov " and the word " funeral " - practically anagrams?) were transported from house to house (the coffin is often popularly called " Domovina "), one is reminded of the indistinguishability of reality, in which Prokhorov feasts with a shoemaker and baker, and a dream, in which he treats the dead - and it slowly but inevitably dawns on the reader the main idea: who are we all here in the face of the Universe if not dead people, whether real or future...

Scary. And because there is no special bloody physiology or meaty naturalism here, it’s even more terrible. Exactly the style of the famous Alfred Hitchcock: everything is like in life, but it’s filmed in such a way that it’s simply terrifying. This is not for you romantic fairy tales and allegories, when every minute the reader has the opportunity to slam the book shut and say: “well, they came up with that.” This is realism, and you can’t slam it.

After "The Undertaker" horror will appear more than once in Pushkin's prose. Remember the famous "The Queen of Spades": « At this time, someone from the street looked at him through the window and immediately walked away. Hermann did not pay any attention to this. A minute later he heard the door in the front room being unlocked. Hermann thought that his orderly, drunk as usual, was returning from night walk. But he heard an unfamiliar gait: someone was walking, quietly shuffling their shoes. The door opened and a woman in a white dress entered. Hermann mistook her for his old nurse and wondered what could have brought her to such a time. But white woman, gliding, she suddenly found herself in front of him - and Hermann recognized the Countess! Appreciate the cinematic nature of the passage: Pushkin, who lived a century before cinema, very accurately conveyed the dynamics of the frame, the sparseness of the scale, the simplicity and the aching growing horror of black and white mise-en-scène.

A.S. Pushkin" Queen of Spades" illustrations by A.N. Benois

By the way, there is a horror film - there is also a movie blooper. And he is not a Hollywood invention. It was Alexander Sergeevich who made the real “film blunder”, and it was in “The Queen of Spades”. Let us remember the end of the third part, that dramatic episode when Hermann demands that three treasured cards be revealed to him: “ With that word he took the pistol out of his pocket. At the sight of the pistol the Countess had a strong feeling for the second time. She nodded her head and raised her hand, as if shielding herself from a shot... Then she rolled backwards... and remained motionless. “Stop being childish,” Hermann said, taking her hand. - I ask in last time: Would you like to assign your three cards to me? - Yes or no?" The Countess did not answer. Hermann saw that she died" The mise-en-scène is drawn with sparse but precise details: the countess, having tipped over and rolled off her chair, lies on the floor, Hermann, kneeling, in front of her... But let’s read the beginning of the fourth chapter, the place when Hermann, having revealed himself to the unfortunate Lisa, again enters the countess’s room: " He went down the winding staircase and entered the countess's bedroom again. Dead old woman sat petrified; her face expressed deep calm" What does this mean? The dead old woman got up, sat down straight in the chair and turned to stone a second time? What is this, a classic mistake or a trick from an experienced horror author?

Of course, Pushkin did not need horror on its own. The authors of the best modern horror films also need it for a reason. Realistically rethinking the romantic mystical experience, Pushkin asserted with his stories: another world and another reality are not just artistic technique. Life is not known. And to stop in its knowledge means to leave for yourself “otherworldly” almost the entire world, which does not fit into the narrow horizon of a know-it-all.

And he's right. If we are absolutely sure that something does not exist in the world, this means only one thing: we know little about what light is.

Anna Sevyarynets

There are only a few days left until dark otherworldly forces from a parallel reality descend on your city. You need to be prepared for this time - soak up the spirit of the holiday, absorbing the most terrible stories that have ever been written in Russian. We are sure that most of Our compatriots believe that there is no horror literature in Russia, but this is not so. A backbone has long been formed in this genre, which may not be better in quality than King, Lymon and Barker, but certainly no worse. And the genre is developing confidently. That is why we included in the selection not only recognized classics like Leonid Andreev and Alexei Tolstoy, but also our contemporaries - they all know how to scare.

"Ghoul", Alexey Tolstoy

You, God knows why, call them vampires, but I can assure you that their real Russian name is ghoul; and since they are of purely Slavic origin, although they are found throughout Europe and even in Asia, it is unreasonable to adhere to a name distorted by the Hungarian monks, who decided to turn everything into a Latin style and made a vampire out of a ghoul. Vampire, vampire - it’s the same as if we Russians said instead of a ghost - phantom or revenant!

First gothic stories began to appear in the 18th century. They immediately gained popularity among the masses, connoisseurs of high and low - this literature excited the brains of the pious inhabitants of the “age of absolutism.” In 1764, the novel “The Castle of Otranto”, written by Horace Ulopol, was published, but the novel “The Monk”, which was written by the hand of M.G., seems to be a much more interesting read. Lewis. “Monk” is a bold and bloodthirsty piece that shocked the public with an abundance of sex, violence and Satanism.

It is not surprising that the fashion for Gothic stories spread to the Russian Empire. Perhaps they were not in favor, but they certainly found their readers. Mid XIX centuries gave our land a unique author who, unfortunately, did not write as often or as much as he would have liked. We are talking about Alexei Tolstoy and his story “The Ghoul,” which was first published in 1841. Among the first listeners of this “terrible story” were such giants as V.A. Zhukovsky, M.Yu. Lermontov and V.F. Odoevsky.

Alexei Tolstoy did not hide the fact that when writing “The Ghoul” he was guided by the then defunct novel “The Vampire” by John William Polidori, but the Russian analogue does not lack originality. The story is written in a beautiful language, the way they wrote. At the same time, “The Ghoul” is filled not only with strong images, but also with ideas that go beyond the scope of “stories around the fire.” If we talk about the plot, then imagine how you entered the night club and instead of people I would see a crowd of ghouls - frightening, terrible and disgusting creatures. However, there are not many differences from reality. All this - in the setting of the 19th century, where the thirst for balls borders on the thirst for duels and the addition of the particle “s” to every word. Well, we recommend reading it.

“The Abyss”, Leonid Andreev

The story is not for the faint of heart, so pregnant women and impressionable men should not type “Abyss” into the address bar of their browser. The text was written by a representative Silver Age Russian literature and the founder of Russian expressionism Leonid Andreev. If you have not heard anything about this writer, then we definitely recommend reading books such as “Red Laugh”, “Judas Iscariot” and “The Diary of Satan”. All of them are freely available and stand out for their beautiful style and depth of thought, which, meanwhile, does not at all encourage positive thinking. However, what else can you expect from a violent and suffering soul that saw two revolutions, unsuccessfully tried to commit suicide and found its end in a foreign land.

"The Abyss" was written in 1901. In those days, Leonid Andreev could still publish freely in domestic periodicals. The story begins romantically, simply, with a touch of pleasantness. love story. The reader sees a student walking through the forest with his lover. In his head there are high feelings, expectations and warmth from a spiritual walk. But the university couple does not follow the passage of time, night falls on the planet, and with it comes something that envelops the heroes from head to toe - they are lost. They wander for a long time until they go out onto the field, where local men notice them - typical representatives“working class” people who don’t know what romance is and what love is, but they know what violence is. We won’t reveal all our cards to you, let’s just say that the ending of the story caused such a public outcry that Leonid Andreev had to explain to the readers why he wrote “this”, and then promise them that he would write “Anti-Abyss”, which would calm the discredited hearts black thoughts of a “silver” writer.

“Worms”, Maxim Kabir

And I love Dostoevsky. And not only as a second-hand book dealer, but also as an avid reader and failed writer.

The story is a story by a modern author, but the action takes place in the second half of the twentieth century, and the stylization is amazing - you really feel that you have plunged into the past, which you always felt, but which you did not find. There is no need to judge the story by its title: “Worms” is not a story about monstrous, slimy monsters that crawl under the skin and eat a person from the inside. Here we are talking about bookworms who hunt for original and limited editions of Russian classics, which can then be sold for big money.

The main character's name is Mikhail, he collects, searches and buys rare books. By chance, he comes across the opportunity to meet one of the most famous people in the Soviet bookworm community - Erlich. The acquaintance is strange, and Erlich himself only partly resembles a person: both in his emaciated appearance and in his behavior. But he has gorgeous books, which, as it turns out, are something completely different than just books. Not only a terrible story, but also, without a doubt, a nod to classical literature with a bit of irony.

“Disappearing forever into the abyss near Messina”, Vladimir Kuznetsov

Vladimir Kuznetsov stands out from the flow modern authors because in his work the element of historicity is of great importance. If Kuznetsov writes horror, then with a 99% probability it will be historical horror, which is rich in details and a good factual base - we love that. All this baggage allows the reader to plunge into the dark world of the past, where any fable seems true.

“Disappearing forever into the abyss near Messina” is mystical story, which reeks of the legacy of the old school of horror literature, where personalities such as Howard Lovecraft and Algernon Blackwood were elevated to the absolute level. The background of the story is the Messinian operation of the First World War, which ended in the victory of British troops over the German ones. At the same time, the British died an order of magnitude more than the Germans (23 thousand versus 19 thousand). The battle was accompanied by the active digging of more than twenty giant tunnels, the total length of which reached 7312 meters. These tunnels became the setting for the story.

Reading the story will make you rummage through the archives to find out more about this operation - there really is something to be surprised by. But as for the work “Disappearing forever into the abyss near Messina,” it perfectly interprets the life, thoughts, mood and actions of those very heroic diggers who had the hardest work, on which the success of the entire operation depended. Through the eyes of the tunnel platoon commander, we see a fierce battle with his own mind, when he faces a problem worse than the Germans - fellow soldiers who are mysteriously disappearing.

“Slush”, Alexander Podolsky

Don't read this. Or, no, read this if you're a complete nutcase, or so exhausted by trivial "scary" stories that you want the most natural tin imaginable. If you cannot tolerate swearing, cruelty and absolutely immoral behavior on the pages literary work, then please don't even try to read it. True, you won’t listen to us anyway, so we’ll tell you why “Slush” is what the doctor ordered for a holiday where the dead supposedly should walk among the living.

If you know such names as Richard Lymon, Matthew Stokoe and Edward Lee, then the abundance of “black stuff” should not confuse your aesthetic taste. Podolsky's story is an experiment in the genre of extreme horror, which raises (or perhaps lowers) the bar for horror in literature. In this genre there is no place for the traditional concept of the undeniable victory of the forces of good over the forces of evil. “Slush” is a work that is scary not because there are chains rattling outside the window, floorboards creaking in the house, and living under the bed scary scary monster with tentacles, horns and hooves. No, “Slush” eats into the reader’s mind with something completely different - extreme honesty. This story could well have happened in Russia. We are even sure that such motifs often became illustrations of the “cultural life” of depressed villages. The present .



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