When I was a little girl, my father often went away to sanatoriums, his work was hard, and they gave him vouchers. One day when he was supposed to come back, my mother was getting ready to see him. My mother had been up all day with the cattle, and in the evening she began to cook pies and other things. It was past midnight, and of course we were awake. Suddenly we heard someone walking down the street, shouting songs at the top of their lungs, as if they were having a wedding. We couldn't make out the voices, and we didn't have time to know how many people were coming. Suddenly the gate was slammed and the whole gang headed for the hut.
To understand what was going on. The gate was closed, the halls, and the entrance to the house - everything was closed. My mother looked out the window, but did not see anyone. And voices were coming towards the hut, and she could hear stomping on the wooden planking. Then our mother was so scared, she grabbed a knife, gave us all anything she could get her hands on and went to the door. Immediately voices were already in the hallway and stomping loudly, as if taking off their shoes and having fun. Mom turned on the light for them, blessing the light was turned on from the house. So they yelled and ran that all that could be heard was the stomping and rattling of the gate. We did not understand who it was. Mom never went to bed, waiting for Dad.
As time passed, more terrible things began to happen, and the house began to shake. In the chicken coop at night, chickens were almost flying on the ceiling. There was pounding and banging on the roof. It was so scary that our father, a stocky, old-school man, was afraid to stay home alone even during the day. We had nowhere to move, and being in the house was scary, we had to sleep in the hay in the barn. But it wasn't safe there either. The house eventually burned down.
But there was another story that I remember for the rest of my life. When the house was still intact. I was about 17 years old. I was walking home from the disco late at night, and a boy was seeing me off. So he walked me to the beginning of my street and we said goodbye. As I walk, it's night, the moon is shining, and the street is long. I hear a horse clattering its hoofs behind me. I turn around, and there's a horse made of white smoke, like a ghost. It's head and crawling, but its hind hooves and tail are gone. And standing there, looking at me. My heart almost stopped, I ran to the house, and it followed me. I run up to the house, and I can't hear the hoofstomping behind me. I pulled the gate, but it was closed. I do not remember how I jumped over them from fear, and I looked - there was this horse in our garden. I screamed and banged on the door of the house. My father jumped out. I told all this at home, and of course my father beat me up. And my mother said that the neighbor, who could do magic, saw me walking late, so she decided to teach me a lesson. And I remember this neighbor - she could not die for a long time, and when she died, all the men took apart her roof. That's when I believed she could do such a thing.
And how wolves came to us, or maybe not wolves. At night, I don't remember what time of year it was. I remember that there was a wild howl, and it gave me goosebumps. My father looked out of the window to see what was happening, but there were wolves on their hind legs and on the fence. They surrounded the front garden and were howling through the windows. My father grabbed his gun, opened the window, and started shooting. They ran away, of course. But my father told my mother later that they didn't look like Wolves. I don't know what they looked like.
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