in the world

Chapter 3

My grandfather met me in the yard - he was on his knees chopping sticks with an axe.He raised his ax as if he was about to strike at my head, then, taking off his hat, he said sarcastically, "How do you do, my lord, are you retired? Well, you can enjoy life in the future, ah, yes! Aye! , you..." "Come on, come on." Grandma said hurriedly, waving him away.Afterwards, he went into the house, and while he was burning the samovar, he said, "Your grandfather is completely pauper now. His little money is all given to his godson Nicholas to pay interest, and he probably didn't even ask him for a written receipt, I don't know." How did they do it, but the money is gone and they are poor. It's all because we don't help the poor and don't do good to the poor. God must be thinking: Why should I give the Kashilin family good luck? He thought this way, Take everything back..."

She glanced around and told me: "I still want to ask God to be merciful, don't make it too difficult for the old man-now I often use the money I earn to give to others secretly in the middle of the night, if you want, today Let's go—money, I have..."

Grandfather came in with narrowed eyes and asked, "What do you eat?" "I didn't eat yours," said grandmother. "If you want to eat, just sit down and eat with us, it's enough for you."

He sat down at the table and whispered, "Pour me a cup of tea..."

Everything in the house remained the same, except for the place where the mother had stayed, which was bleakly empty.In addition, a piece of paper was pasted on the wall next to my grandfather's bed, and it was written in bold print: Jesus, the only living Savior, may your holy name be with me every day and every hour! "Who wrote this?"

Grandfather didn't say a word, and after a while, grandmother smiled and said: "This piece of paper is worth a hundred rubles!" "It's none of your business!" cried grandfather. "I want to give away everything to outsiders!" "You have nothing to give away, and you never give away when you have something," the grandmother said quietly. "Shut up!" my grandfather snapped.

Everything in the house was in order, just as it had always been.

Kolya, who was sleeping in the basket of underwear on the lid of the big box in the corner of the room, woke up. He glanced at me, and there were faintly visible veins under his eyelids.He was much more haggard, weak, and thin than before.He didn't recognize me, turned over without making a sound, and closed his eyes again.

Bad news awaits me on the street: Viahir is dead, "windmilled" during Good Friday; Happy has gone to town looking for work; Jazz has lost both legs , can't play anymore.When the black-eyed Kostroma told me the news, he said angrily: "The children died too quickly!" "Isn't Viahir the only one who died?" People are like dead people. They just made friends and got acquainted with each other. Either they went out to work or they died. A new family called Yevseyenko moved in to Chesnokov's side of your yard; The boy's name is Nyushka, and he's all right, very clever. He has two sisters, one is still young, the other is crippled, walks with a stick, and is a pretty girl." He thought for a moment, and added: "Brother Churka and I are both in love with this girl, and we are always at odds!" "With that girl?" "What is it with her? We are at odds with each other, and we seldom have trouble with that girl!" Of course, I know Those big boys and even adults fall in love, and I know the vulgar meaning of being in love.I became unhappy, and felt sorry for Kostroma, and felt awkward looking at his clumsy body and angry black eyes.

This evening I met the lame girl.She came to the yard from the steps, and dropped the crutch by accident. With two clean hands, she climbed on the railing and stood helplessly on the stone steps, so thin and slender.I wanted to pick up the crutch and give it to her, but it was inconvenient to move because of the bandage on my hand, so I couldn't do it for a long time; she stood at a place higher than me, and asked with a soft smile: "What's wrong with your hand?" "It was scalded." "Ah, I'm lame. Are you from this yard? Have you been in the hospital for a long time? I've lived there for a long time!"

She added with a sigh, "What a long time!"

She was wearing a dress with a sky blue horseshoe pattern on a white background. Although it was old, it was very neat.His hair was brushed clean and braided into thick, short braids that fell to his chest.In the big serious eyes, a blue light was quietly burning, illuminating the thin face with a sharp nose.She smiled happily.But I don't like her.Her whole frail figure seemed to say, "Please don't touch me!"

Why should friends love her? "I've been ill for a long time," she said boastfully. "I was enchanted by a female neighbor. She quarreled with my mother, remembered her revenge, and cast a spell on me... Is the hospital scary?" "Hmm..."

Feeling awkward with her, I went back into the house.

In the middle of the night, my grandmother woke me up caressingly. "Shall we go? Do your best for others, and your hand can heal faster..."

She took my hand and walked in the dark like leading a blind man.The night was dark and humid, with the wind whistling endlessly, like the rapids in a river.The cold sand touches the feet.Grandmother approached carefully the dark window of the poor hut, crossed herself three times, put a five-copeck piece and three bagels in each window, looked up at the starless sky, crossed herself again, and said in a low voice: "Supreme Holy Mother, save all peoples, we are all sinners before you, dear Holy Mother!"

The farther we were from people's homes, the more dead still it seemed around us.The night sky was so dark that it seemed to swallow up the moon and stars forever.A dog jumped out of nowhere and barked at us, its eyes glowing in the dark, and I clung to my grandmother in fear. "Not afraid," she said. "It's just a dog. At this time, the ghost has already hidden, and the rooster has already crowed!"

She called the dog over, stroked it, and said, "Puppy, don't scare my grandson!"

The dog rubbed against my leg, and the three of us walked forward together.Twelve times, my grandmother went to other people's windows and put down the "secret alms".It was dawn, and the gray house was revealed in the gloom.The sugar-white bell tower of Napoleon Church stands.The brick walls of the cemetery were incomplete, like a broken mat. "The old lady is tired," said the grandmother. "It's time to go home. Tomorrow when the women wake up, the Virgin Mary has prepared a little food for their children. When people have nothing, a little thing is useful! Ah, Alio Sha, everyone is living in poverty, but no one cares about them!

Rich people don't want God,
nor the final judgment,
Do not treat poor people as friends and brothers.

He set his heart on gold--

This gold is the firewood of hell!

That's a good word!People should be friendly to each other, God treats everyone equally!I'm so glad you're with me again..."

I secretly liked it too, feeling vaguely united with something I could never forget.Beside me, the fox-faced brown dog trembled with kind and guilty eyes. "Does he want to live with us?" "What does that matter? Let him if he wants to, and I'll feed him bagels, and I've got two left here. Let's sit on the bench, I seem to be a little tired..."

We were sitting on the bench in front of the house, and the dog was at our feet nibbling dry rolls, and my grandmother said again: "Here lived a Jewish woman who had nine children in her family, each younger than the other. I asked her: 'How do you live, Moshevna?' she said: 'What else can I hope for, by God?'"

I leaned on my grandmother's warm body and fell asleep.

Life has passed quickly and compactly again, feeling imagining a wide river, bringing new things to my heart every day.It sometimes fascinates me, sometimes makes me sad, sometimes makes me breathless, and sometimes makes me think deeply.

Before long, I also tried everything I could to meet the crippled girl and talk to her, or to sit with her on the bench by the door in silence—just with her, even in silence. happy.She is as beautiful as the willow warbler, and she can tell the life of the Don Cossacks very movingly.Her uncle worked as a pilot in the oil factory over there, and she stayed in his house for a long time. Later, her father, who was a fitter, moved to Nigeria. "I also have a second uncle who works in front of the emperor."

Residents went "outside" at night and during holidays.The young men and the girls go to the cemetery to dance the hoop, the grown-ups go to the taverns, and only the women and children are left in the streets.The women were at the door, some sitting directly on the sand, some occupying the benches, shouting, arguing, and gossiping about others.The kids played baseball, bats, and "croquet."The mothers watched them play, praising those who did well and laughing at those who lost.The uproar almost deafened the ears, and the joy was unforgettable.Because the "adults" were watching enthusiastically, we children worked extra hard, and treated all the games with a particularly full of energy and a determination like fire.But no matter how hard we played, one of Kostroma, Churka, and I would always go to the crippled girl to boast. "See, Lyudmila? I knocked out all five columns at once!"

She smiled softly and nodded repeatedly.

In the early days, no matter what we played, the three of us were always together, but now I see that Churka and Kostroma are always enemies, competing in dexterity and strength, and often crying and fighting.Once, two people got into a fight, and the grown-ups intervened, pouring cold water on them like a dog fight.

Lyudmila was sitting on a bench, stamping on the ground with her good foot, and the fighters rolled up to her, and she drove them away with her stick, terrified, "Don't fight!"

Her face was blue, her eyes lost their luster and rolled like a madwoman.

Once Kostroma lost badly at a stick game with Churka, and crouched down behind the oatmeal ark of the grocer, weeping secretly.He gritted his teeth, his thin face with protruding cheekbones was tense, and big and big teardrops rolled out of his dark, dull eyes, which looked terrible.I ran over to comfort him, and he choked up and said in a low voice, "Wait... I'll smash his skull with a brick... Just watch!"

Chulka was proud, with his hat on one side, his hands in his pockets, and he walked about the street like a young man of marriageable age.He acquired a rascal's accent, slobbered between his teeth, and said to people: "I'm almost learning to smoke. I tried it twice, but it was very disgusting."

It made me unhappy, I saw a friend losing, and I thought it was Lyudmila's fault.

One evening, I was in the yard separating the bones, rags, and all kinds of waste that I had picked up, and Lyudmila came swaying and waving her right hand. "Hello," she said and nodded three times. "Is Kostroma with you?" "Yes." "Where's Churka?" "Churka is not nice to us, it's all your fault, they both fell in love with you, that's why they fought... "

She blushed, but replied sarcastically, "That's ridiculous! How can you blame me?" "Why did you tell them to love you?" "I didn't tell them to love me!" she said angrily and walked away. And then said: "This is so boring! I'm older than them all, I'm 14 years old, I can't fall in love with older girls..." "What do you know!" I raised my voice trying to annoy her. "That female shopkeeper, the girl from 'Horse Whip', is an old woman, and she's messing around with the young man!"

Lyudmila turned her head towards me and cut the walking stick deep into the sand of the yard: "You don't understand anything," she said hastily, with tears in her throat and a gleam in her lovely eyes. The delicate light said. "The female shopkeeper used to be unruly. Am I the same kind of person? I'm still young, and I'm not allowed to be touched or teased... You'd better read the novel "Women of Kamchatka", Go read the second part and speak again!"

She walked away whimpering, and I felt some sympathy for her.There was a truth in her words that I knew nothing of.Why is my friend teasing her?And they said they were in love with her...

The next day I bought two kopeks of malt, intending to make up for my mistake in front of her, which I knew she liked. "Do you want it?"

She pretended to be angry and said, "Go, I won't be with you!"

But immediately took the candy and scolded me: "I don't need to wrap it in paper—the hands are so dirty." "I have washed it, but I can't wash it clean."

With dry and warm hands, she took my hand and looked at it, saying: "How did you get it like this..." "Your fingers are also pricked..." "This is a needle prick, I often do it. Needlework..."

After a few minutes, she looked around and said to me, "Hey, hide somewhere and read The Woman of Kamchatka, will you?"

We have been looking for a long time, but nowhere is suitable.Then I decided to go to the dressing room in the bathroom, where it was dark but I could sit by the window.The window looked on a dirty corner, lined with barracks and the neighboring slaughterhouse, where few people looked.

She sat obliquely in front of the window, put her lame leg on the bench, and stepped on the ground with her good leg. With a crumpled and torn book covering her face, she recited a series of incomprehensible and boring sentences in a moving voice. sentence.But I was very excited, sitting on the floor, looking at her pair of serious eyes, like two blue flames, moving sequentially across the pages of the book.Sometimes the little girl, with tears in her eyes and a trill in her voice, quickly read the unfamiliar words in the difficult sentences.I try to catch the words and turn them into poetry, move the sentences up and down, and that completely prevents me from understanding the story in the book, what it's about.

The dog dozed off on my lap, and I named it "Quick Wind" because it has a long, fluffy body, runs fast, and barks like the autumn wind in a chimney Same. "Are you listening?" the girl asked.

I nodded silently.The messy sentences made me more excited, and the more anxious I was to arrange them in another way and change them into sentences like songs.Every word in the song is alive, shining like a star in the sky.When it was dark, Lyudmila put down the white hand holding the book and asked me: "Look, it's pretty good..."

From that evening onwards, we often hid in the changing room of the bathroom.I was very glad that Lyudmila stopped reading "Women of Kamchatka" soon.Because she wants to ask me what is said in this endless book, but I can't answer it.The book is really endless, because after the second we started, there was a third, and, according to her, a fourth.

What makes us especially happy is the rainy day, of course, not the rainy day when we boil water for bathing on Saturday.

It was raining outside, and no one came out, and no one came to look around our dark corner.Lyudmila is terrified of "being bumped into". "Do you know what people will think then?" she asked in a low voice.

I know, I worry about "getting caught" too.We sat for hours, talking about something.Sometimes I tell stories my grandmother told, and sometimes Lyudmila tells Bear River, the life of the Cossacks. "Oh, what a place it is!" she exclaimed. "Here—what is it? This is the beggar's den..."

I am determined to go to Xionghe when I grow up.

Soon, we stopped going to the changing room in the bathroom.Lyudmila's mother got a job at a furrier and left early in the morning, her sister went to school and her brother went to the tile factory.On rainy days, I would go to her house and help her cook, clean the house and the kitchen. She said with a smile: "We seem to be a couple, but we don't sleep together. And we live more happily than other couples—the other man Still unwilling to help his wife with work..."

When I had money, I bought sweets and drank tea together.To keep the nagging Lyudmila's mother from knowing, the burnt samovar was soaked in cold water.Sometimes my grandmother would come here too, and she would sit and weave lace or embroider and tell nice stories.When my grandfather went to town, Lyudmila would come to our house, and we all had a big meal with confidence.

Grandmother said: "Oh, what a wonderful life we ​​have, earning our own money, and getting what we want!"

She praised our friendship: "It's good for boys to be friends with girls! Just don't mess around..."

She also told us in simple and clear words what is meant by "nonsense".She spoke very beautifully and touchingly, which made me deeply understand that the flowers cannot be picked before they are open, otherwise there will be no fragrance and no fruit.

We didn't want to "fuck around", but that didn't stop me from telling Lyudmila things that people don't.Of course we only talk when necessary.Because we see so much rough sex and sex that it's so unsightly that it makes us sick!

Lyudmila's father is a handsome man in his 40s, with curly hair and a moustache, especially his two thick eyebrows, which look very majestic when they move.He was strangely silent, I don't remember him saying a word, he babbled like a mute when he teased the children, and he didn't even speak when he beat his wife.

In the evening or on holidays, he puts on a sky blue shirt, velvet trousers, well-polished leather boots, holds a grand accordion, buckles the straps of the accordion on his shoulders, walks to the gate, and follows the "sentry" same standing.Immediately, "tricks" began in front of the gate.The girls and daughters-in-law came one by one like a flock of ducks and looked at Yevseyenko.Some glanced at him furtively and sideways, while others looked at him openly with greedy eyes.And there he stood, with his lower lip protruding and his dark eyes open, staring at all the women with a selective look.There was a disgusting bestiality in this silent exchange of eyes, in the frivolity of a woman who seemed to melt in the presence of a man.It seems that every woman, as long as a man winks at her commandingly, she will lie docilely, like a dead person, on the dirty street. "The ram is out, shameless guy!" Lyudmila's mother cursed.She was a tall, thin woman with a long, dirty face, her hair cut short from typhoid, like a worn broom.

Lyudmila sat with her, trying to distract her mother from the street, asking questions all the time, but it was all in vain. "It's annoying, you disgusting thing, you poor ugly girl!" The mother blinked and muttered uncomfortably. Suddenly, her small Mongolian eyes flashed a strange light and stopped moving. Keep a close eye on it. "Mother, don't be angry, what's the use of being angry," Lyudmila said. "Look at how beautifully the proprietress of the mat shop is dressed!" "If I didn't have the three of you, I would look even more beautiful. I told you to eat it up, chew it up," the mother almost shed tears, fiercely Answered, staring at the fat widow in Xipu.

The woman was like a small house, with her breasts protruding like a porch, and her square red face peeked out from under her green kerchief, like a skylight reflecting the sunlight in the glass.

Yevseyenko clasped the accordion to his chest, played it, and played various tunes.The charming sound of the piano spread far and wide.Children gathered from all the streets, lying on the sandy ground at the feet of the performers, listening quietly and engrossed. "Wait, someone will wring your brains out," Yevseyenko's wife threatened her man.

He didn't speak, but glanced sideways at her.

The widow of the mat shop sat down on the bench in front of the "Horse Whip" shop not far away, leaned her head on her shoulder, listened, and blushed.

The sky above the wilderness behind the cemetery reflected the red sunset glow.The street is like a river, swaying tall and brightly dressed figures.The children were mixed in the middle, whirling back and forth like the wind.The warm air is intoxicating, and from the sandy soil warmed by the day, there are pungent smells, especially the sweet and greasy smell of slaughterhouses-the stench of blood.From the furriers' yards came another stinky, salty smell of leather.The voices of the women talking, the drunken ravings of the men, the screams of the children, the crooning of the accordion—all these merged into one deep tumult, the heavy sigh of the ever-creating earth.Everything is crude and explicit, and it engenders a strong, unwavering belief in this dirty and shameless animal life.This kind of life is boasting of its own strength, but at the same time it is depressed and nervous looking for a place to vent its strength.

From time to time, a very terrible voice came out of the noise, pierced the hearts of people, and was forever firmly etched in the memory. "We can't hit the same person at the same time—you have to hit each other next to each other..." "If you don't love yourself, who will love us..." "Maybe it's funny that God gave birth to a woman?... "

Night was approaching, the air was relatively fresh, the noise gradually quieted down, and the wooden house was surrounded by shadows, expanding and growing bigger.The children were led back to their rooms to sleep, and some fell asleep lying in front of the fence or at the feet and lap of their mothers.They become more honest and docile at night.Yevseyenko disappeared at some point, as if melting.The woman in the mat shop is gone.A muffled accordion blares in the distance—near the cemetery.Lyudmila's mother sat on a bench with her back arched like a cat.My grandmother went next door to drink tea at the house of a midwife who often pimped people.She was a tall, thin person with a duckbill-like nose, and on her flat, manly chest hung a gold medal for the Life Saving Award. People on the street said she was a witch, and everyone was afraid of her.It is said that once, during a fire, she rescued a colonel's three children and his sick wife from the fire.

My grandmother got along very well with her. When they met on the road, they greeted each other with smiles from a distance, as if they were very happy.

Kostroma, Lyudmila and I were sitting on the bench by the door while Chulka dragged Lyudmila's brother to the joust.The two of them twisted together, kicking up the sand on the ground. "Stop!" Lyudmila begged fearfully.

Kostroma rolled his black eyes sideways at her and told the story of the hunter Kalinin: he was a white-haired old man with a sly look, known to the whole village as a villain.He died not long ago, and he was not buried in the sand of the cemetery, but his coffin was placed on the ground not far from the other grave.The coffin was black, with high legs, and on the lid was painted in white paint a cross, a spear, a staff, and two bones.

Every night as soon as it got dark, the old man crawled out of the coffin and wandered around the cemetery, looking for something, until the first cock crowed. "Don't say scary things!" Lyudmila begged. "Let go!" Chulka shook off Brother Lyudmila's hand, mocked Kostroma and said, "What nonsense are you talking about, I saw the coffin buried with my own eyes, and there was no mark on the lid... what A dead man wanders outside, that's a rumor made by a drunk blacksmith..."

Without looking at him, Kostroma said angrily: "Well, go to the cemetery for a night and try!"

They quarreled, and Lyudmila shook her head boredly, and asked her mother, "Mother, can a dead person come out for a walk at night?" Same as echo.

The shopkeeper's son came over. His name was Valek, he was about 20 years old, and he was a fat young man with a red face.After hearing the argument, he said: "I'll give twenty kopecks and ten cigarettes to any one of you three who can spend the night on top of the coffin, and if he gets scared and comes back, let me pull his ears to the bone." ,OK?"

Everyone was silent.Lyudmila's mother said: "How stupid! Is it possible to encourage children to do such things..." "I will go for a ruble!" said Chulka listlessly.

Hearing this, Kostroma immediately asked sarcastically: "Are you afraid of giving twenty kopeks?" Then he said to Valek: "Just give him a ruble, anyway, he won't go, but Just bragging..." "Well, just a ruble!"

Chulka got up from the ground and slid slowly along the wall without making a sound.Kostroma put two fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply after his back.Lyudmila said uneasily: "Oh, my God, what a cowhide...why bother!" "You guys are all cowards!" Valek said with a sneer. "You still think of yourself as a hero on the street, kitty..."

After hearing his scolding, I felt very wronged. We all hate this fat young master.He often instigated children to do bad things, told them dirty words about girls and wives, and told them to play tricks on them.The children listened to him and suffered a lot.For some reason he hated my dog, used to stone him, and once fed the dog a sewing needle in a piece of bread.

But seeing Churka shy away shyly and walking away made me feel even worse.

I said to Valek: "Give me a ruble and I'll go..."

Laughing at me and frightening me, he handed the ruble to Yevseyenko's wife.But she said sternly, "No, I won't take it."

She walked away angrily.Lyudmila did not dare to take the note either.This aroused Valek's ridicule even more, and I planned to go without this kid's money.At this time, my grandmother came and found out about it, so she took the one-rouble note and said to me calmly: "Put on a coat and take a blanket, it will be cold before dawn..." Her words boosted my confidence that I knew there was nothing to fear.

Valek made a condition that I have to lie or sit on the coffin until dawn. No matter what happens, even if old Kalinin comes out of the coffin and the coffin starts to shake, I must never jump off. , even if you lose. "Remember," Valek prefaced. "I'll watch you all night!"

When I started to go to the cemetery, my grandmother made the sign of the sign of the sign of the sign of the cross and told me: "If you see something, don't move, just say the blessing of Our Lady..."

I walked in a hurry, wanting to start earlier and finish earlier.Valek, Kostroma and several other boys followed me.Climbing over the top of the wall, I got caught in the blankets, fell, and jumped up as if bouncing off the sand.Outside the wall laughed loudly.There was a thump in my chest, and a chill ran down my spine.

I staggered to the side of the black coffin. One end of the coffin was buried in the sand, and the other end exposed the thick and short legs.It seems that someone tried to lift the coffin and distorted it.I sat on top of the coffin at the feet of the dead, and looked around.In the undulating cemetery, gray crosses are densely lined up, and the shadows are scattered on the graves and on the hills covered with weeds.Slender birches stood here and there in the row of crosses, their branches connecting the scattered tombs.The shadows of birch leaves fall on the ground to draw a lace pattern, and some grasses are exposed in this pattern-these gray tall and fluffy grasses are the most frightening!The cathedral rose into the sky like a snow mountain, and in the motionless clouds a small moon shone like it was melting.

Yazz's father (nicknamed "The Rice Bag") was lazily ringing the clock in the watchtower. Every time he pulled the rope, the rope would rub against the lead skin of the roof and make a sound like weeping. Then, the little copper bell was indifferent. There was a sound of the earth—short and desolate. "My God, don't let people lose sleep!" I couldn't help but think of the mantra of the night watchman.

I'm scared, and I can't explain why I'm still depressed.It's a cool night and I'm sweating.If old Kalinin really came out of the grave, would I have time to run to the watchtower?

I am familiar with the cemetery.I have played dozens of times with Yaz and other companions in the cemetery. My mother's grave is near the church...

The surroundings have not yet completely calmed down, and intermittent laughter and singing came from the village.On the hills of the railway quarry, or beyond the village of Katzovka, the accordion choked.The blacksmith Myachev, who was always drunk, walked past the wall humming a song, and I knew it was him as soon as I heard the song:

our mother

Not many sins—

she loves no one

I only love dad...

It is delightful to hear the last sigh of life.But every time the bell rang, the surroundings became more silent.Silence is like a flooded river, flooding the meadow, drowning everything.The soul drifts in the boundless space, like the light of a match in the darkness, disappearing without a trace in the sea-like air.Only the distant stars in the sky are still alive and twinkling, and everything on the ground has disappeared, there is no need, and it is dead.

I was wrapped in a blanket, with my legs tucked up, facing the church, and sat on the coffin. When I moved a little, the coffin creaked and the sand beneath it rustled.

Behind me, something fell to the ground with a thud, and then another; a broken brick fell beside me, and I was terrified, but I guessed at once that it was Valek and his companions throwing it through the wall. scare me.I knew there were people nearby, so I was happy instead.

I couldn't help thinking of my mother... Once I was learning to smoke, she saw me, and she hit me.I said, "Don't touch me, I'm already very sick if you don't hit me, it's so disgusting..."

Later, she punished me to sit behind the stove, and she said to the grandmother: "This is a heartless child, no one loves..."

I was sad to hear that.Every time my mother punishes me, I always pity her and feel embarrassed for her, because her punishment is always unfair and often blames me.

In short, there are too many sad things in life, let’s just talk about those guys outside the wall. They know that I’m scared to death by myself in the cemetery, but they still want to scare me. Why?

I really want to shout at them: "Come to the devil!"

But this is dangerous.Who knows what ghosts will do to this?It must be somewhere nearby.

Many fragments of mica stones in the sand flicker dimly in the moonlight.This reminds me of another thing. Once, I was lying on the raft of the Oka River, watching the river, and suddenly a small bream jumped out of the water and almost touched my face. When it turned over , with a human-like face on the side, glanced at me with round bird-like eyes, then got in, and swam into the deep water like a maple leaf falling to the ground.

Memories became active more and more intensely, as if to resist the terrifying imagination and replay those scenes of life.

Suddenly a hedgehog rolled over with its hard paws grabbing the sand.It is so small, with thorns standing upright, it reminds people of the house god and imp.

I remembered what my grandmother said while squatting in front of the stove: "My kind god, drive the oily cockroaches away..."

In the distance, above the invisible market, it was a little brighter, the morning cold oppressed the cheeks, and the eyes gradually closed.Covering my head with a blanket, I curled up into a ball, lay down, and let it be!

Grandmother woke me up - she stood beside me, pulled the blanket and said: "Get up! It's not cold? - How, are you afraid?" "Scared, but don't tell anyone, don't tell the children Say it!" "Why didn't you say it?" She was surprised. "If it's not scary, then what's rare..."

On the way home, she said tenderly: "You have to experience everything yourself, little pigeon, you have to know everything by yourself... If you don't learn by yourself, no one can teach you..."

At night, I became a "hero" on the street, and everyone came to me and asked, "Aren't you afraid?"

When I answered, "Scared!" they shook their heads and yelled, "Aha, you see?"

But the female shopkeeper said loudly with confidence: "It can be seen that he was lying when he said that Kalinin got out. Could it be that he was frightened by the child? If he really crawled out, then he still hasn't taken the child out of the house." I fell on the coffin and I don’t know where to go.”

Lyudmila looked at me with friendly surprise.It seems that even my grandfather is very satisfied with me, he can't help smiling.Only Churka said sadly: "Of course he doesn't care, his grandmother is a witch!"

(End of this chapter)