Miracles

**“”**

These “miracles” happened to me last autumn. If I had heard this from anyone else, I wouldn’t have believed it — but now, beneath the layer of hair dye, I’m probably gray.

It all began when I, like a grown-up girl, moved out from my parents: first into a rented apartment, then into a dormitory. Later I was offered to move into my great-grandmother’s place, since my grandmother had taken her in (she’s elderly and bedridden). And so, one fine day, my son and I moved in. The building is old, and the apartment is dim. Imagine being in an apartment where the lights are on, but they don’t actually illuminate anything. We changed the bulbs, the wiring, the chandeliers — useless. It was still dark.

The first night, we didn’t sleep at all — there was a constant feeling of someone else’s presence. On the second and the following nights, my sister stayed over with me. Once she woke me up, saying she had heard someone swearing near my son’s bed. I didn’t really believe her, but just in case, I left some milk and sausage for the house spirit. For several days, I stayed overnight at my parents’ place, and there my grandmother advised me to bless the apartment. I wish I hadn’t done that…

Those who know how this is done will understand what I mean. Everything started with the first circle. I would step forward, and something pulled me back. This continued until I reached the kitchen. When I got there, I completely forgot why I had come, stood there confused. About five minutes passed while I tried to remember. Eventually, I somehow recalled and went on. The second circle was easier, the third even easier.

Then I went outside to smoke and came back — and there were four figures standing in the apartment: one large black one, with no face and no discernible gender, and with it a man, a woman, and a child. They were all staring at one spot — more precisely, at the window. I barely pulled myself together, talking to a friend on the phone, and ran away from there. While I was running to my parents’ place, it felt as if something was trying to lure me back — voices in my head saying, “Go back, you forgot to turn off the gas, the water!” and the like. Even though I personally checked everything at least five times before leaving.

And that wasn’t the end of the “miracles.” The second time, my friend and I went back to the apartment. We took down the mirrors and began blessing it again, reached the kitchen — and then saw another “miracle.” My friend was standing behind me — and her double was standing in the living room. On trembling legs, we finished everything that needed to be done and fled.

Now I don’t go to that apartment at all — I have to live with my parents.