Bedtime Stories

Beloved aunt, thank you for saving my life!

Who am I? A die-hard atheist? A believer? No, I’m just a person who had his eyes opened. I was born in Alaska, in Anchorage. I love this city, it’s always in my heart. I spent all my childhood in the beloved city.

But after school graduation I went to Boston, which couldn’t replace my favorite city in my heart. I used to come back to my parents on holidays and spent time with them. One time on a May day I came to Anchorage, got home and immediately flopped on the sofa, old and ugly, but very warm from my childhood memories. Everything was supposed to be as usual. Mom would immediately embrace and kiss me, and then she would go to watch photos together with my dad and recall what a kind and sweet boy I was.

But I will never forget this stay, it turned out to be mystical and inexplicable, and remained in my memory forever.

During the day my parents went to my mom’s sister for tea, and I went to see a childhood friend who lived nearby. We recalled the good old days – oh, nostalgia – and in the evening I went home. I saw aunt Mary near our apartment. She had always loved me as her own son.

Natalie still feels guilty. She believes that things could have been different.

– Hey, Nick, didn’t you recognize me? Did I get that old?

– Come on, aunt Mary, you are just as beautiful and young and haven’t changed even a bit.

We chatted for some time. It was getting dark and I wanted to go home, but Aunt Mary wouldn’t let me, she literally grabbed me and forced to go to her apartment and drink tea with pastries, so I had to let myself be tempted.

I reluctantly followed her. Aunt Mary’s house had always been very cozy, warm and clean, and smelled of fresh pastries, cakes and cookies. We drank tea with a cheesecake which I remembered from my childhood and then I went into the living room and fell asleep on the couch .

I woke up in my aunt’s home and didn’t understand what had happened. My father told me that they had come home around midnight and had seen that our apartment had been on fire and firefighters had been trying to extinguish it for a long time.

He was very scared that I was home, but a fireman said that there were no people there. Then my father saw that the door of one of the apartments nearby was open. But it was impossible! Mary, who had lived in it, had recently died. He went in and saw me lying on the floor – all the furniture had been removed from the apartment by aunt Mary’s relatives.

I was confused and told him what had happened to me. My father was frightened, but he said one thing: aunt Mary loved Nicky very much and couldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

Mom told me that aunt Mary died shortly before my arrival, she must have saved me, because that night a gas cylinder exploded in our apartment.

Before that incident I had never gone to church, had never worn a cross, and had been a real atheist. Now I understand that ghosts, boggards, poltergeists are real. Good thing is that I had no experience of meeting an evil and aggressive creature from the other world. I might have been made to understand the truth: not everything you see is real, there is something that is hidden but we’ll see it when the time comes. The supernatural surrounds us at all times and in all places, the fringe between us and the other world is very thin, and can be easily broken. It’s all in God’s hands.

Now, recalling this incident, I say only one thing: “Thank you, aunt Mary, I will always remember you!” 

Our Next Story…

Putrefying Clown

“A circus has come into town, a real circus! There are elephants and camels. There is fortuneteller Jaria and her enchantresses!” reading this announcement I became interested what the circus made up for this time?

One and the same troop came to our town many times, and each time they cooked up something new. From year to year they came to our town to pay tribute to one of their artists – it seems to a clown – during performance a knife pierced him to death. The troop buried him right here, near their dome for performances. However, it was the clown’s death that heralded a harvest of death.

There was incomplete construction not far from the tent. Some day they had wanted to build a hospital here, but construction was suspended, because of scarcity of means. But the strangest began after departure of the troop. Children always played on the building site, it drawn them to it as a magnet draws iron filings, as if someone invisible invited kiddies to join him.

Time passed by – young people disappeared, well, not only young people, but everybody who turned out to be there. Kidnapping was ended up only when the troop came to the town with new program.

And then when every busybody in town was in the circus tent, I decided to see over the building site, I had heard so much about. That time I thought I would be safe as that day was circus performance. And how mistaken I had been!

When I found my way I felt like a cat on hot bricks. Shadows in the light of my flashlight seemed to me demons and ghosts. Each rustle seemed a message, and any puff was a touch that made my hair stand on end.

Having inspected all three floors of the hospital, I decided I had fiddled away time when I caught a cry, a screaming cry of a woman which passed into peals of laughter, a man laughed. He kept saying she was dead, old Jaria’s dead, and there I understood it. The circus came to town not for earning or checking his friend’s grave, but to restrain his distraught ghost.

But now no one could stop him. The clown who had died on the stage, returned on it.

I was trembling. I was on the third floor of the hospital. Three floors were on my way to saving myself. I couldn’t make a move, but knew if I’d done it, I would stay there forever. I took my flashlight and walked the corridor to the ladder when out of the corner of my eye I suddenly saw something vehement and fast. It blasted past me, but I didn’t felt a gust of wind. I began to go down, I saw it on each floor. There was one floor and I would be freeside. My heart was throbbing badly, as I hastened steps something turned me in the opposite direction off the exit. It was he who stood in front of me. In blue-and-white costume, dirty and torn, make-up smeared all over his face, thus looking like the Devil. Just below his neck a throwing knife was sticking out, a dark spot around it. I looked full in the face of the whopper, and it looked at me. It gave a smile, and bared his yellowish teeth. Looking a little close I noticed he had been decaying, little white wormlings wriggled in his cheek, his right hand lacked two fingers. He made a move toward me slowly and deliberately. He came to me and began to scalp me. I cried and squirmed, but the clown didn’t care a curse, he continued to tear me apart. And when it was all over with me, he started to laugh. He was breaking out into a laugh that only clowns may laugh with…

Now you ask me how I can tell about this if I’m dead? Well, it’s quite simple. The clown always sends me to tell stories to whom he is going to come for. 
Putrefying Clown






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