Creepy stories about the dead, death and cemeteries. At the junction of our world and the other world, very strange and unusual phenomena sometimes occur that are difficult to explain even to very skeptical people.
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This story was shared with me by a relative who survived the Holocaust as a child. Further from her words.
Before the war we lived well. Our family was large and friendly. I was the eldest child in the family, I helped my mother with the housework, looked after the younger children and, like all Soviet children, dreamed of a brighter future. Once my mother told me: “Daughter, today I had a terrible dream: my grandmother came to me and said that we would all die, and you would be saved, and you would live happily ever after.” This was .
Recently, a woman friend's mother died. She was very worried and shared her thoughts. She told a story that she woke up early in the morning, got out of bed and wanted to turn on the light. The switch clicked, the light came on and then went out. I tried to turn it on several times, but it did not light up, then I decided to replace it. Pulled it out and it's whole. She thought that this was a sign and began to ask for forgiveness aloud from the soul of her mother.
Recently I read about the deceased with a lit candle in front of his photo. I was reading late at night, and at the end of the prayer, for some reason, I felt fear. It was on the 9th day after the funeral. Anxiety crept in.
Before that, the day before, a dead person had been seen, as in a dream. I didn’t understand anything at all, since it flashed very quickly, and I remembered only the image of a candle lighting and burning so brightly.
I will write about small strange cases that happened to me, and which I heard about from witnesses of the phenomena.
Mom lives in a private house. When she was in power, she often baked something, she made such wonderful pies. I come to visit my mother. She is sitting at the table with my brother's daughter. They sit at a table near the window, eat pies, drink tea. Immediately from the threshold, they begin to vying with me to say: “But we saw this! Just now! 5 minutes ago they flew past the window over the beds somewhat perfectly. So slowly, everyone is a little different in size, the size of an average ball. Light in appearance, like soap bubbles. And they are all bright, shimmering in different colors. They flew purposefully, calmly, as if someone was walking and leading them on a thread. And they flew away towards the neighbors, to the woman Field. They watched as much as they could from the window, they didn’t go out into the street, because, despite the fact that it was summer, the day, the sun, for some reason it was scary. I helped them eat pies, and after an hour and a half, Lena and I went home. They went out into the yard, and the neighbors were in some kind of fuss, they left the yard, on the street a neighbor from the house opposite says: “Baba Polya died.”
The priests do not recommend opening the coffin after the deceased has been buried and the lid has been nailed shut. I have always known about this prohibition, but could not find an explanation for it. Googling, I came to the conclusion that, as it were, there is no official version of why it is forbidden. And now even, with the permission of the priest, sometimes it is allowed to open the lid at the cemetery so that people who were not in the church at the funeral could say goodbye to the deceased. But it's still undesirable.
With this question, I turned to my 80-year-old grandmother. To which she told me a story that happened to her relatives in the village.
As a child, every summer I rested with my grandparents in the village. But when I was nine years old, my grandmother died of cancer. She was a sympathetic and kind person, and a very good grandmother.
At the age of fourteen, I came to the village to my grandfather, who was very lonely and sad without his wife. In the morning my grandfather went to the local market while I slept in a cozy bed.
Then, through my sleep, I hear some incomprehensible footsteps on the wooden floor. It creaks clearly. I lay face to the wall and was afraid to move. At first I thought it was my grandfather who had returned. Then I remembered that he was always at the market in the morning. And suddenly someone's cold hand falls on my shoulder, and then I hear the voice of the late grandmother: "Don't go to the river." I couldn’t even move from fear, and when I pulled myself together, nothing strange happened.
I'm here that we live next to the cemetery and I had a young drinking neighbor. Her late father came to her, and we talked about life and death. She eventually died. Recently it has been a year since his death.
She lived in a house located along the main street and by which she had to pass every day. And this year, I went to the store almost every day, past her house, but I didn’t pass calmly, but ran faster without looking. There was always a bad feeling and some deadness. I attributed everything to past death and time.
When I got my profession, I lived in a hostel not in my hometown. I went home once every two weeks. 3 girls lived in the dorm room, their home was closer than mine, and they went to their parents every weekend.
In January 2007 my only grandmother died. Although during her lifetime we did not communicate so often, and our relationship with her was not as close as many, but after her death, I often dreamed of her for some time. But we will talk about one dream or phenomenon, I don’t even know what to call it.
It was the fortieth day for my grandmother, but I didn’t go to the wake, we just had exams (and, as I said, we didn’t have any particularly warm family relations). I stayed alone in the room and prepared for the exams, it was already about 2 am, and I decided to go to bed. I did not turn off the light (the girls and I often slept with the light on), closed the door on the latch and, turning to the wall, lay down. Son did not want to come to me, and I lay and thought about all sorts of exams.
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This story was told by Sofia Kazhdan. I present it here in the form in which it was told.
That evening I saw off the mother of my friend, who had lived in our small town for more than fifty years. I came home late at night and couldn't sleep.
Evgenia became a widow for five years and lived literally ten minutes walk from my house. Her daughter, Yulia, my childhood friend, begged her mother to move to live with her in another city.
Mom, I want you to be by my side. I don’t want to wake up every morning with only one thought that you are alone there, a hundred kilometers from me and my grandchildren.
As luck would have it, my eyes literally stuck together, but there was no sleep. Several times during the night I turned on the TV, picked up a book.
Then I decided to get over myself. I turned off the TV, put down the book, turned off the light and started counting.
"One... two... three... ten... eighty... one hundred and thirty... two hundred and fifty..."
And then ... Then the action unfolded according to the scenario of a science fiction film. Lying in bed, already almost asleep, I heard a soft knock on the window through my sleep. Lazily getting up, she went to the window and, opening the curtain, was horrified.
On the road outside my house was a funeral home bus with a black stripe down the middle. From it, my acquaintances, who left this world and moved to the “OTHER”, looked at me through the windows.
I felt my hands and toes get cold, sweat on my forehead and nose, my legs become cottony, and my tongue sticks to my palate. Goosebumps began to run through my body.
Near my window stood the father of my childhood friend Yulka and the husband of Evgenia, who had to leave our town early in the morning, Uncle Lenya.
"Sonka, why are you looking at me so frightened?" - he asked and, smiling at me, continued, - I won't do anything bad to you. Get dressed and go outside ... You need to talk ...
I continued to stand and looked in horror at the street through the window pane.
People started getting off the bus. I personally saw many of them in the coffin. They were wearing the same things in which they were seen by acquaintances and friends, seeing them off on their last journey.
Uncle Lena was approached by Tamara, a former colleague of my sister who died of cancer, leaving a two-year-old son.
Why don't you come to us? Tamara asked, “Don’t be afraid of us… We won’t do anything bad to you… You need to be afraid of the living, not the dead…”
- What are you doing here? - I asked frightened, thinking that DEATH came for me, - I don't want to die! I do not want! It's bad, it's scary and it's dark there...
“Look at me,” Uncle Lenya said and smiled again, “Look at me carefully… Do I look bad?”
And in fact ... Uncle Lenya was very often sick for the last ten years of his life and was very overweight. In addition to asthma, he also had a bunch of other side diseases. Now in front of me stood a fit, lively man with clear eyes.
- I live in a beautiful place, - he said, - in a pine forest ... This place is ideal for my health.
- What are you doing here? - I asked in a slurred tongue, - You are all dead.
“They came to visit you, earthlings,” a good friend of mine, who died in a car accident, intervened in the conversation.
I don't remember what happened next ... and how many minutes or seconds I stood with my mouth open. Then ... Then I asked them:
— What is there? On the other side of life? Is it scary there? Badly?
“No,” said Uncle Lenya, “the DEVIL is not as terrible as you draw it ... There is a different life ... Other concepts about life ...
“Do you want to go back… to us… to Earth?”
“We want peace… We want the Earthlings not to touch us, not offend us, and remember that we are always there for you, we follow your life…”
— Follow? I asked scared.
“Here, I came to see how my wife will leave our house ... It’s hard for her to do this ... It’s hard ... So I came to help her, support her ...
- Uncle Lenya, - after a short silence, I asked, - Do you want to join us? In our life?
“My mission on Earth is over… I have done everything I could… Now I am at home.
- Houses? - I asked in bewilderment, - How is it at home? I am at home... But you are not at home... You are in a coffin...
“Ha-ha-ha,” the dead laughed merrily.
“Sonechka,” Tamara said, “It’s you who is the guest… An earthly guest… And the coffin… This is how we leave your world…”
“Just don’t try to tell me that it’s good there ... That there is an afterlife kingdom there, and everyone lives happily ever after, like in a fairy tale.”
- Why does everyone live happily ever after, like in a fairy tale ?! No... Life there is not heavenly either... One must also work and live there... There is eternity... And here is the stop...
I no longer remember what I asked, what they told me, I only remember one thing, that I asked a few questions that to this day make me think about a lot.
— How often do you visit us, and how often do you want to see us?
“Practically none of us is drawn to Earth… But there are exceptions… Grandparents who have little grandchildren want to see the kids… They come to them at night when they are fast asleep,” Uncle Lenya said.
“I want to see my son… Hold him close… I left him so small, so helpless… I left him when he needed me so much… I don’t visit him very often… I don’t have time for that,” with annoyance in his voice said Tamara.
“We have our own life, and don’t bother us over trifles… Don’t come to the grave when you feel like it… Don’t disturb us… Don’t torment us and don’t torment our souls… There is a church for this… Go there… Pray for the repose of our souls,” Uncle Lenya said.
- Why?
“You are invading another world… A world incomprehensible to you… The time will come when you yourself will understand everything…”
— Who feels bad there, in this OTHER world?
- Who is sick? To the one who passed sentence on himself and took his own LIFE?... It's scary... It's very scary... WE, our world, do not accept these people, and in yours they are already dead... They are trying to settle down with the dead, but this is impossible... God gave man life and only God can take it away from us.
- Uncle Lenya, don't scare me. Are you trying to say that a murderer... A person who took the life of another lives better in your world than the one who decides his own fate?
“Probably, yes… These people are slaves… They accept new arrivals… They work with them… They go through adaptation with them… They teach them to live according to our laws…”
The alarm went off in the room...
I stood in the middle of the room in clothes and was shaking with fear ... To this day I still can’t understand what it was: a DREAM OR ...
And if OR...
Stuttering, I began to talk about the night aliens.
After the story was told, there was silence in the accounting department. An older woman interrupted her.
“This is a miracle,” she said, “Formerly, those people who took their own lives were buried outside the gates of the cemetery and they were not buried in the church ...
A year later, my friend comes to me and says:
- I had such a life situation ... I didn’t see a way out ... My mother died, my husband went to another ... I didn’t want to live at all ... I decided to cut my veins ... I filled the bath with water, took a knife and ... At that moment I remembered your story about night guests… I was scared… I was scared that in that world I didn’t understand, I would suffer even more. Two days later, I met Sasha ... Now we are waiting for our son ... There are simply no hopeless situations ... If you can’t fight, then you just need to wait out this unsuccessful period.
I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT WE DO NOT DIE FOR ALL...
WHAT THE SOUL WILL LIVE AFTER OUR DEATH... BUT THAT WORLD is unknown to us... And no one gave us the right to invade it. If it exists, THAT WORLD, then people live there according to their own laws...
My mother and I live with my grandmother, but we are building a house on the other side of the city. I am 12 and have been living with my grandmother since birth. Her house is very close to the cemetery and the school. When I bring classmates to visit, they are horrified when they realize that our house is opposite the cemetery. But I answer them with a smile. Like, what's so terrible? I spent my whole life here and nothing happened... Looking at the cemetery, I have no feeling of fear. I do not look at the cemetery with the conclusion that the ground there is saturated with corpses. For me, this is just a place with crosses .. But for a long time, my grandmother told me that when passing by the cemetery you need to greet * spirits * Like, they look at you and wait for you to greet them? But I completely forgot about it ..
One fine day .. My best friend Tanya and I agreed to go to the cinema in the evening, to the cartoon *Shrek 2* We are Shrek fans and did not refuse this) It was winter then .. The days are short and already at 8 pm it was getting dark terribly. It's like 12 o'clock at night. The movie ended, as we feared at 8. We lived nearby. But on different streets. There was not a big forest near the school. And behind this forest was the street * Lesnaya * where my friend lived.
When we got to school, we split up. *we were separated by a damn forest* She is home, and I am home… On my own. I walked quickly. The lantern standing on our street strangely did not turn on. But I didn't attach any importance to it.
There were 70-80 meters left before the house, as I heard slow steps behind me. I quickened my pace, almost running. Soon I heard the voice of an elderly grandmother. The voice was trembling, but in some places and malicious. Grandma said she couldn't find her mother's grave. Buried in this very cemetery. I have already seen the burning light of the chandelier in the windows of my house. But my grandmother abruptly grabbed my hand and dragged me to the cemetery. I wanted to scream, but my voice seemed to have disappeared ... My grandmother was weak, so at the gates of the cemetery I grabbed the fence and did not let go. Grandma is gone...
I wiped the sweat of fear from my forehead and went home. Having reached very close to my house, I saw the silhouette of my grandmother at the gate. And she waved her cane at the gate. Knocked. I got scared. I called my mother and said that she would kick this grandmother out. Grandmother either heard what I said and immediately disappeared.
Mom came out, there was no one, only I stood frightened at the gate. Mom asked what happened. Out of fear, not understanding what I was saying, I said that there was a grandmother here ... Mom answered me that it seemed to me and did not believe me.
In the morning, it turned out that a grandmother came to everyone on our street, asking if they would help her find her mother's grave. And when he heard the answer, she disappeared, one might say evaporated in the air.
A month later we moved to a new house. At the end of the city. A year later, they began to bury people there and made another cemetery. Right in front of our house. It's embarrassing and gross. Now I am afraid of cemeteries, I do not advise you to walk around the cemetery at night. Is there a little…
Gravedigger's Tale
In the 90s, when the Union collapsed, a bunch of research institutes closed. Researchers dispersed in all directions. Some moved into shuttles, began to carry consumer goods from China, others simply drank themselves, others radically changed their profile of work. My friend Oleg Petrovich Dementyev joined the cemetery. Digging graves. I must say, not the worst profession for that time. It was he who told me this strange mystical story. I just processed it literary. Here is his story. For many months, the little quiet woman shuddered at every ring at the door of her apartment. Carefully asked: "Who is there?" and with bated breath she waited for a short answer: "Police!" And only then, opening the lock to the voice of a neighbor or acquaintance, she could not come to her senses for a long time. I drank valerian and corvalol. But they were of little help. It was especially difficult on sleepless nights. Memories came running, and it seemed that her terrible secret would certainly be revealed. Then they will come for her. Tamara Petrovna committed her rare crime because of him, Sergei.
If suddenly trouble came
Only now, fifteen years after her desperate act, she finally calmed down. It's too old. All that was left of him was a heavy and even a sick heart. Tamara Petrovna had a chance to lose loved ones since childhood: in 1935, right before her eyes, two younger brothers died of starvation, then her parents died, and even later, her husband. Children were the only joy in her life.
She devoted all her free time to her daughter and son, which, unfortunately, was never enough. Conductor is a traveling profession. Today is here, tomorrow is there.
When her daughter Svetlana got married and left with her husband, a young scientist, for Novosibirsk, Tamara Petrovna took it for granted: her daughter is a cut piece. Yes, and the youngest Seryozha, a merry fellow and a guitarist, remained nearby. Her favorite, her support and hope in the coming old age. But everything turned out differently ...
Sergei Volsky went to jail in his youth, out of stupidity. The Sortirovochny microdistrict, which is located right next to the railway, is a restless, noisy place, people often fight here in the evenings, drink and inject.
The guy got into a bad company, he messed up. In a brutal fight with passing truckers, the big-faced guys almost to death kicked two half-asleep drivers, taking their money and little things with them. Although Sergei did not participate in the fight, he was in the company of rioters, and so he thundered along with the “activists” for hooliganism and robbery.
The article is serious. At first he served his sentence in a prison in Nizhny Novgorod, then he was transferred to one of the colonies in the south of the region. According to Tamara Petrovna, he himself asked for it there. The mother was terribly worried. Apparently, some kind of sixth sense guessed unkind.
But after some time, Sergei sent a letter from the zone. He wrote that he was happy. He is about to be transferred for good behavior and conscientious work to the duty company. Then you can visit him often.
Tamara Petrovna calmed down and even rejoiced. Until the next letter, she counted the days. But the son remained silent. It . To disperse the melancholy, the mother pondered what kind of gifts to buy Serezha in Moscow, imagined a warm meeting with her son after a long separation.
How to bring back a dead son...
Instead of the long-awaited envelope, inscribed in native handwriting, the postman brought an urgent telegram. It reported that the prisoner Volsky died suddenly.
Blackened and lost, Tamara Petrovna rushed to her friends. Thank you, they supported me, advised me to somehow pull myself together, told the bad news to relatives. Volskaya's sister and daughter Svetlana urgently flew to Nizhny Novgorod.
Together they went to this cursed area. Then Tamara Petrovna said: “If he hangs himself, I won’t come!”
For some reason, it seemed that the son laid hands on himself, without even thinking about his mother. Sergei Volsky was killed in his sleep with two blows to the head with a stool. In the course of a short investigation, it turned out that the cellmates considered that he was a “snitch”, he got out too quickly on duty. For this he paid with his life.
At the trial, eleven witnesses did not want to give any details. Who "fell asleep", who "forgot". And the killer turned out to be a particularly dangerous criminal, a recidivist. He was sentenced to eight years for murder. But that didn't make it any easier for the mother. You won't get your son back.
Then she wanted only one thing: to bury Sergei in the cemetery in Nizhny Novgorod. The thought that her boy had been buried somewhere as a vagabond without lineage, without tribe, was unbearable.
Other orphaned mothers, albeit a little, console themselves by caring for the grave. They talk to the photo on the monument, plant flowers in the tomb, light funeral candles on religious holidays. She didn't even get that.
Instead of the long-awaited envelope, inscribed in native handwriting, the postman brought an urgent telegram. It reported that the prisoner Volsky died suddenly
But, despite all the requests, pleas, demands to give her the remains of Sergei, police officials answered: “Not allowed!”. Some languidly referred to a possible exhumation if the case went to further investigation. But they obviously didn't want to pursue him.
Desperate, Tamara Petrovna reached the highest ranks of the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the Prosecutor's Office of the Russian Federation. Then she still worked as a conductor on Moscow trains and, arriving in the capital, several times went to see big bosses. Who swore, who promised to consider the case. Meanwhile, six months have passed.
To one colonel from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Tamara Petrovna promised all her savings for decades of winding around the country in rattling cars. He said: "We will decide."
And then a friend turned up on the street. She listened to Tamara Petrovna's complaints, her story about ordeals, and advised Sergei ... to steal. Otherwise, they say, you will not wait for the resolution of your problem. Prisoners are never given a proper burial. Volskaya understood what she had to do.
Lord, give strength and patience
"Lord, give me strength!" - Asked Tamara Petrovna and on the day off she went to the caretaker of the cemetery at Sorting. He attentively listened to the woman turned gray with grief.
You can help, but it will be expensive ...
How?
He named the amount.
Two times less than what she offered to the capital's officials!
The woman took administrative leave at the Passenger Service Directorate and began to prepare for the operation. The energetic daughter, after the death of her brother, once again visited the zone. There were people who, for a certain fee, indicated the exact place of burial. The daughter visited the outskirts of the rural churchyard.
Compassionate local old women laid out a brick cross on the nameless grave. Leaving for Novosibirsk, Svetlana drew a diagram for Tamara Petrovna, on which she marked the place where her brother was lying. Now a piece of paper with a drawing is very useful.
Despite all the requests, pleas, demands to give her the remains of Sergei, the police officials answered: “Not allowed!”. Some languidly referred to a possible exhumation if the case went for further investigation.
How to reburial a person...
The cemetery caretaker turned out to be a man of his word. At the appointed hour, Tamara Petrovna and four hefty men (among whom was my friend) drove out of town in two cars.
It turned out that one of the drivers had once served in this zone, so he knew the way there well. Already after midnight they finally reached a small grove among the fields. Four of them illuminated simple fences, gaudy plastic flowers, monuments, and not far from them, a red mound with a brick cross, spread out from the rains.
Mother's heart sank painfully, she convulsively grabbed the pills. Digging up the grave took an unexpectedly long time. Sticky clay stuck to the shovels. Tamara Petrovna volunteered to help. It was fearful that they would not be in time before dawn. The men sent her to the cars, away from them: “And if you feel bad, then what do you want to do”?
Finally, the spades thumped dully against the tree. The matter now remained for the small: to transfer the coffin to and throw in the pit. But hastily put together, lain in the ground for more than six months, the domino could fall apart. It was necessary to get it by tying the boards. The ropes were prudently taken with them. Suddenly, one of the conspirators became ill.
And then it seemed to shoot through me: what if it's not Sergei? - recalls Tamara Petrovna. - After all, prisoners, they say, are often placed in mass graves. She began to ask the peasants: "I'll give you another thousand rubles, just look: is he or not."
They hesitate, they are afraid. And time is running. Then we see, at the coffin the board moved away and I immediately recognized the face of my son along the scar and dimple on the cheek, along the chin. At dawn, the hole was dug up and bricks were laid so that no one would guess what was happening.
And then an old woman appeared at the cemetery. Either she came to visit her people early in the morning, or for some other reason ... Her nerves rose again. What if he notices, guesses, informs? What then? And nothing good, because the case is something under jurisdiction. But the grandmother turned out to be weak-sighted, she did not figure out what was happening in the fog.
Sergei Volsky was reburied the same day at the Sorting cemetery. Now Tamara Petrovna herself cannot believe that she decided to take such a desperate step.
But she simply could not do otherwise. If it was not possible to live together with a living son, then even if he is dead, he will be there.
Sadness, sadness... Sergei Volsky was reburied the same day at the Sorting cemetery. Now Tamara Petrovna herself cannot believe that she decided to take such a desperate step.
Now the cemetery watchmen often see this woman near the well-groomed grave, on the bench, which is near the monument behind the iron fence. She is talking about something slowly and quietly with her son for a long time.
Some of the rare visitors, looking at her, shake their heads and twirl their fingers at their temples, but the cemetery attendants know that the woman is completely normal, sane and always gives them delicious homemade pies, sweets, and gives them money for vodka.
And most importantly, she found some kind of solace, visiting her “native mound”, where it always seems to her that the soul of her son is near, that he hears everything, that one day she will be near the closest soul in the world.
And she stopped being afraid of the police a long time ago. A mother's heart is truly omnipotent and fearless.
Supernatural: a call from the other world
On one of these visits, she was met by the same grave digger, my friend Oleg Petrovich Dementyev. This is how he remembers this meeting.
The woman was sitting on a bench near the grave, turning the key in her hands, and was very pale. You feel bad? I asked. She looked at me with a strange look, then she recognized me, smiled shyly and handed me the key.
What's this? I asked in surprise.
I see he's from your apartment?
The woman nodded.
I found it under the bench.
Call from there... And then she told how it happened:
I lost it a week ago. Searched everything in the house. There was no key. Good thing there was a spare. But I decided to order another one. Even though the money is small, it's still a pity. You can't buy an extra carton of milk. In the evening she went to bed. She could not sleep for a long time, she kept thinking about something, some petty worries oppressed her, then she dozed off. Woke up to a phone call. The time was after midnight. For a long time I could not figure out where I was, what kind of call, then picked up the phone. The voice was masculine and terribly familiar.
I stood and was silent, there were no thoughts in my head. There was no fear, no surprise. Then again:
Who is it?
But I already knew who. It didn't even occur to me that this could be someone's evil prank.
Can you hear me?
Listen, Seryozha...
You lost the key on my grave. It's under the bench. So don't order a new one. And yet ... He hesitated, sighed, it was heard through the receiver - thank you and goodbye.
Short beeps. I woke up when it was dawn outside the window, and the birds were already singing with might and main. The receiver was in my hand, and short beeps squeezed tediously out of it. I came here half an hour ago and...
She handed me the key again. It was old, from English locks that slam shut when you leave the apartment. Now these are no longer installed.
I picked it up, turned it around, then handed it back to her. He kissed his gray, shampoo-smelling hair, turned and went to his thirtieth precinct. By 12.00 it was necessary to dig another grave.
Now the cemetery watchmen often see this woman near the well-groomed grave, on the bench, which is near the monument behind the iron fence. She is talking about something for a long time slowly and quietly with her son.
VIDEO: 7 mystical phenomena at the cemetery caught on camera
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Oh, and it was a long time ago! I have just - just entered the university .... The guy called me and asked if I would like to go for a walk? Of course, I answered that I want to! But there was a question about something else: where to take a walk if you are tired of all the places? We went through and listed everything that was possible. And then I joked: “Let’s go to the cemetery and stagger ?!”. I laughed, and in response I heard a serious voice that agreed. It was impossible to refuse, because I did not want to show my cowardice.
Mishka picked me up at eight in the evening. We drank coffee, watched a movie and took a shower together. When it was time to get ready, Misha told me to dress in something black or dark blue. I didn't care, to be honest, what I would wear. The main thing is to survive the “romantic walk”. It seemed to me that I would definitely not survive it!
We have gathered. They left the house. Misha got behind the wheel, even though I had a license for a long time. We were there in fifteen minutes. I hesitated for a long time, did not get out of the car. My love helped me! He held out his hand like a gentleman. If not for his gentlemanly gesture, then I would have stayed in the cabin.
