Do you believe in God?

My husband went on a business trip, not far, just for a day. He's supposed to arrive at four this morning. And I don't like sitting at home alone. I spent the whole day shopping with my mom, got home around 8 PM, very tired, and decided to sleep a little and then cook something.

Around midnight, I woke up to the sound of stamping feet in the entryway, as if a rather tipsy woman in iron-toed heels was climbing the stairs, exerting great effort. It reminded me of the "Yeralash" movie where the monument to the young man on horseback was walking along the entryway.

I'm lying there, waiting for this "lady" to get to her apartment, and she suddenly stands on my landing, right next to the door, as it seemed to me (we have a small studio apartment, and the bed is opposite the front door). There are motion sensors in the entryways, and when someone approaches the floor, the light on that floor turns on, visible through the peephole.

I see that the light hasn't come on, and it's quiet, as if nothing happened. Just as I was about to close my eyes, the phone rang. My grandfather decided at midnight to ask how I was doing and said, "I wanted to come visit you, isn't it too late?"

I tell him, "Of course, I'm looking forward to it." But it's starting to dawn on me: what visitors?"

My grandfather has been in the hospital in the regional center for two weeks now. He wasn't planning on going home; my mother and I just talked about it today. They were supposed to transfer him to another hospital. So there's no way he could have come visit me today; he's not demented. I ask him, "When did you get here?"

And he says, "Well, it was just today." I stared at the phone, none of the facts I knew adding up, and his voice began to strike me as odd.

We chatted a bit more, then he wished me goodnight and hung up, but I couldn't sleep anymore. I decided to go get a smoke. I got up, quietly grabbed a cigarette and a lighter, and walked to the bathroom, which was right next to the front door. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw my cat, facing the door, in a "don't come near, or it will be worse" pose. I stood up too. He looked at the door, and I looked at him. All I could hear was the ticking of a clock, and some other sound mixed in.

It seemed like a long time had passed before I realized there was actually someone standing behind the door, breathing loudly, as if they were having trouble with their lungs. I stared at the door in utter bewilderment, and fear began to creep in. I take a step back, and at that moment something slams hard on the door, the cat scurries under the bed, and my feet start to sweat.

Literally a moment later, a pleasant female voice asks from behind the door:

"Miss, do you believe in God?"

I think, well, you've had your day, girl.

And I have two icons hanging above my door, some kind of protection from people with negative thoughts about me, I'm not sure exactly: some salesmen brought them to work, advertised them well, and I bought them. I look up at them and ask, very loudly for some reason:

"What the hell is this, my protectors? Don't you know?"

 And from behind the door came this nasty laugh, hee-hee-hee, and then:

"Well, I'll come in through the balcony then," and the same stomping noise came again, only it seemed to be heading down, toward the street, and the light in the entryway still didn't come on.

I felt sick, standing there wondering what to do? Nothing came to mind. I came to when the cat crawled toward the balcony, as if hunting something. I jumped to the door, snatched an icon, nail and all, and ran toward the balcony at breakneck speed. I placed it on the floor right next to the door, then ran to the kitchen window, but what good was it? There were no more icons.

I remembered that I should swear in a situation like this. I stood there, cursing like a cobbler, and nothing happened. No one's barging in on me, asking stupid questions. Young people are sitting outside the house across the street, chatting in a group, but I can't hear any sounds from the street; we have double-glazed windows.

I'm watching the cat. He's calmed down, came over to rub against my legs, purred something, and headed for his bowl. I figured that if the cat had calmed down, so should I. But I couldn't move. I stood there for about ten minutes, my body and brain refusing to obey.

Then I finally went out for a smoke and opened the window, but there was complete panic: young people were yelling something unintelligible, dogs were howling, the stray cats were screaming as if they were being killed, and the alarms on all the cars parked in the yard were going off one after another.

I glanced sideways at my cat and slammed the window.

This isn't my problem anymore.