Five minutes, not here

October 25, 2011 11:06

If you long to look into the abyss, the abyss will stare at you. The rule to remember anyone who is interested in paranormal phenomena. Sooner or later, but a lover of the unusual will find information on a topic of his curiosity, even where not expected.

One day, at two o'clock in the night, I went out to smoke on the landing standard 9-storey building on Mayakovsky Street, in the city of Yekaterinburg. Area below the smoked cigarette neighbor, I recognized him by his clothes — camouflage tunic, although his face is not seen. He shouted, "Hey, Max!". He looked up at me and somehow cautiously. Neighbor so long studied my face, that I even began to worry: maybe something wrong with me right? Max's face was as white as paper. At the same time, it is a good command: not shaking hands, the eyes do not run.

He works as an electrician at an electrical substation on duty "South" in Yekaterinburg and communicate with each shift voltage of 500 kV. For this work and train specialists, check them as astronauts. Some mental problems, alcohol abuse or the slightest bearing on them to drugs excluded.

-Here went out for cigarettes, Georgich — Maxim laughed nervously. — I almost turned gray, damn it!
— Where is the "almost"? Will you come home — look in the mirror.
— So what? — Alert Maxim.
— And the fact that you have a white whiskey. And you say — "nearly turned gray."

Max mechanically rubbed cropped temple, and then told me an extraordinary story. He settled down at home to look at the video series "Cop Wars". And then found out that he ran out of cigarettes. He pressed the "pause", put on shoes and as he was, in sweat pants and a T-shirt, moved to the shop on the corner of Omsk and Sulimova where every sufferer into the night can buy beer and cigarettes. On the fourth floor to the first, he drove safely, opened the access door security lock button, went outside and walked toward his goal. And little by little began to worry.

-You see, Georgich that does not happen. Maybe you is not obvious to the eye, but I do very much! It can not be that all the gas lamps, all ads are smooth, without a blink, with the same color. You see, among them many varieties, some mercury vapor work, in others — sodium, in the third — some other, it is only the common people walking definition that all gas-discharge lamp — is, he says, "neon tube"! How many types of filler gas, so many colors. And the reliability of these gizmos are not particularly high. Yes, you've seen — always crackling, flash. And then suddenly — well, everything burns extremely smoothly and somehow the same gray light.

Maxim is long and convoluted swore that for him was quite peculiar. From him no ill words for ever heard. From that moment I began to take his story seriously.

On the street there was no wind, no sound, and Max swore that he was so ill at ease, as if he was somewhere else in the world. But cigarettes … Stand looked like usual, and Maxim knocked on the window, prudently clutching his right hand between the two denominations of 10 rubles: a pack of "Balkan Star" is 19. Window moved aside, but instead of the usual "What is it?" Wafted from inside the cold and stench, with whom Max breath. "Rat died — helpfully called a mind that is always trying to keep us on this side of reality. — Yes, of course, the rat died "- Maxim happily agreed.

-A pack of "Balkan", little blue. — Max gave money through the window.
— Please. — In the window penetrated something from what Max was, like, whiskey and white. Narrow thin tentacle. And while it held a pack of blue "Balkan Star". Maxim is not panicked and ran to look eye with heart-rending cries. He took the cigarette and surrender. Opened the pack and took out a cigarette and lit it. Felt the taste of tobacco — like a real one. And only after that went home.

Way from the kiosk to the entrance — 200 meters. But half-way stop … Max newspaper. The street was not vetrinki. Yet the street slowly wandered Omsk newspaper, zigzagged closer to Maxim. Leading him while in incredible fear.

-If my key did not open the door lock door, — told me Max, smoking is probably the tenth cigarette — I would be there with fear and skopytilsya!
— And then what?
— And even worse.

Maxim returned to the porch of his home. Our house is always a little littered, slightly unkempt, was clean and sterile lit pale violet fire unblinking gas lamps. Enter the elevator, he did not dare. Having walked up to the 4th floor, he stood at the door with a key and could not bring himself to open the door.

-Georgich, can laugh in my face, but I just started shaking with fear that here I am now the key will open the door — and there's not my apartment! And anyway, I do not "here," and God knows where.

Having stood at the door of his own about 15 minutes, max distance to the landing, threw the keys on the concrete, and lit a cigarette. And then I popped the top. Further, according to Max, changed all at once: the lamp at the entrance immediately lit cozy, home-like, and the silence suddenly split usual sounds normal entrance of an apartment building. And all he told me was ready to immediately put a pint for deliverance from a nightmare.

-Shuruy home, neighbor. Navoobrazhal himself with three boxes, scare myself — I podnachil Maxim. — Come on, I'll open your door! Tooth to give, there are no monsters, only your wife, daughter and dog.
— No, Georgich, do not. All right. Look — light blink?

I had noticed, one of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling entryway pomargivala.

-You see, we're home. — Max got hard, he staggered. — All right, I do not need help!
"I wonder," — I thought the computer and printed a story by Stephen King, "Crouch End". Here's a piece of it, "when there was silence, and is late at night, as now, I tell myself that our whole world, all the things we think — a pleasant, ordinary and reasonable — it all looks like a big leather ball filled with air. Only in some places, the skin rubbed it almost through. Where … where the boundaries are very thin. "

And he brought him to Max — the good, just something to go down to the floor below. I should not have done it. Max gave me a printout with the words: "It seems," and with a face as white as in that strange night.

You have it. This happened just next to me.

Sergey Dunayev

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