I think the window before you start, you need to make a small explanation

. I will turn a little on weapons, as well as all sorts of survival strategies, tactical equipment, binoculars, lanterns and other things. I have a lot of such good, and the pearl of the collection is the "Remington" rifle of the 700th model (it is completely legally can be bought in Russia after five years of ownership of a smooth-tank). I have a couple of very good optical sights - one is more powerful, another and relaxing. Not that I am craying some, but, let's say, I like to feel ready for trouble in our turbulent time. Well, this, as I said, the background. And the story itself is as follows. I happened to make an apartment in one of the districts of the North-Eastern District of Moscow. I removed her due to the production need, it was not going to stay there for a long time, so I concluded a couple of months. The apartment was on the top floor of the twelve-story house - the view from the windows would be chic, if it were not for one "but". On the contrary, the meters in two hundred stored another twelve-storey house, and besides him, I have almost seen anything from my windows. My apartment was cheap, even there was no TV there. The Internet I was not going to spend there too, it's still soon to move, so it was, just say, not much. As it was called, and the works turned out to be less than I thought, so I spent the evening reading, and then, when it was dark, I was taken for the rifle and played in "Gloteks". This entertainment I came up with my day on the third stay in the apartment. I set up a sight, looking through him on the street, prevented the distances to different objects, accidentally looked into a couple of windows and somehow got carried away. Then I traded a writing table to the window, I installed his remonton with optics on him and through the gap in the curtains, the tenants began to study the tenants of the house on the contrary. Since then, I spent so almost every evening. Of course, you can condemn me, and I agree with you. In discerning people through the crossroads, let them even an uncharged rifle, there is nothing good, but the hell, once I try, I could no longer stop. The house opposite was simply the creation of colorful characters. And if a man from the sixth floor, every evening looking porn, quickly tired, then a small karate-karates with the ninth, having arranged a daily merciless training in the kitchen, and a young couple with seventh steel My pets. This couple, by the way, was very hot, in a few days, what I watched them, they did it with all the ways known to me and was clearly not going to stop. And they seem to have not known how light turns off in their bedroom. Watching them could be infinitely, I hoped a lot to learn from them. There were also alcoholics, interesting only during their drunk fights, breeding with children, more or less normal families, in general, a lot of things. But the story is not about them. Once, during the next "glades", I quickly looked at the window on the eighth floor, in which I didn't look much earlier. I saw an almost empty room illuminated by the only hanging on the ceiling with a light bulb, the door was tightly closed. The bed was in the corner, on which a man was sitting in the classic pose of Yoga. He attracted my attention to his immobility, and I decided to watch him. The man was sitting back to the window and looked into the wall. He was very thin, pale and high, absolutely bald head seemed disproportionately big, T-shirts and pants were not on it. Five minutes I looked at him, but he never stirred. I translated the sight on the wall where he looked - the wall, as far as I could see, it was empty - no paintings, no carpets, the faded wallpapers were confused by places. I lied as an eye room - also nothing interesting: a couple of chairs, a coffee table with a pile of newspapers, an old chair, a small rug on the floor in the bed. On the closed door, I noticed several incomprehensible vertical stripes and everything. I decided that the dude would simply meditate, and I should not wait for any jokes from him, after which I switched to my beloved Karate, who just warmed up before the next training. An hour later, when and the juvenile fighter, and the restless couple ended up their speeches, I once again looked into the window to yoga. He sat everything in the same pose and looked into the wall. Wheeling seconds 30, I removed the rifle and went to bed. I probably would have forgotten about all this if in a couple of days after an error did not look again in the window to this yoga. I did not see anything new, and for some reason it was angry. Acknowledge, I already considered it that every evening houses each evening I owe me to entertain me. And this type just sat and looked into the wall. Although, maybe not looking, but, for example, I slept. Or maybe he is not alive? In the sense of doll. Or maybe, really, oak gave? Meditated-meditated, and in the astral left. In general, I am interested in this. For a whole hour I watched him - he did not flour. Exactly - doll. Moreover, so thin and high, the head is huge, the skin is pale, the hands seems to be almost to the knees ... there are no such people! But what does this doll make one in the room? Is this room - the propility warehouse? Where are the other things? Why no one comes into the room? Apartment empty? And who then lit the light? I examined the neighboring windows. On the right, as far as I represent the layout, is obviously another apartment, there lives a family with two young children. And on the left - dark windows, the light does not burn. Okay. I decided to distract, but neither Karate, nor in love with the naturalists did not please me at that evening. The next day I came home from work early and immediately got down to the sight. Sits, Gadenash. In the same posture. Although, it seems, a little to the side now turned. So something is there, after all, happening. I watched the whole evening. Even in the toilet did not go away. I sit. I look at the sight. And he sits. Looks into the wall. It seems, breathing barely. Or it seems to me. When the eyes got sick, I spat and lay down. In the morning, before leaving for work, I looked again. No change. So I watched him for a whole week. A couple of minutes in the morning and a few hours in the evening. From time to time, his position changed a little, but how and when it happened, I did not see. Once I returned from work and saw that he had changed her sheets on the bed! And then I decided to arrange bastard around the clock observation. I slept all evening, but I satisfied the result. I aimed on the window on the bile on the window, and to the eyepiece of the sight with the help of the tripod, I summed up the lens of the camcorder. The video she wrote right on the hard disk of the laptop, so that you can see what happened in those few hours I will at work. In the morning I checked everything again and pressing the "recording" on the camera, left the house. On the first day I was waiting for disappointment. The camera honestly recorded everything, but Yoga all eight hours of video honestly sat on the bed, not lying. I barely gained patience to repeat the entire procedure the next day. For the second time I was lucky. In the evening, looking through the video, I saw at 14 o'clock 17 minutes the door to the room went to the yoga, and a woman entered her with a tray in her hands. At first I decided that she would feed him, but there was almost nothing on the tray. I only saw some kind of bubble and several small boxes. The woman slowly approached the yoga and put a tray in front of him on the bed. For some time she stood beside and looked at him. I thought they were talking, but, looking after, I saw that her lips would not move. Then she began to rub his left hand, and then for a few seconds tensely leaned before him. What exactly she did, it was impossible to consider it, as I prevented a thin spin of yoga, but it was like that she made him an injection. At least, I had such an impression. Then she somehow strange, sideways, went to the window, opened the window and lit up. I smoking a cigarette, she closed the window, took the tray and, the fir, got out of the room, closing the door behind him. Nothing happened anymore. Running off from the monitor, I looked into the sight - everything was in the room in the same way as on the last frames of the record. If it were not for the camera, I would never find out that someone came there. I once again revised the video. There was something strange in it. Even frightening. Although it would seem, everything is clear. A pale, skinny dude sits on the bed, probably, a down, or something else, his nurse comes to him or like that, makes the injection, smokes a cigarette, goes away. I revised the video again. And yet. So having nothing to decide, I once again checked into the sight of my ward (sits, bastard) and went to bed. Over the next week, using your surveillance system, I found that: a) a woman with a tray enters the room once every two days, about 14-15 hours, she makes the injection, smokes a cigarette and leaves; b) It seems that nothing happens more in the room! However, all this began to become an obsession. First, I did not see how the sheets change it. Secondly, I seem to understand that there was a strange in the behavior of a woman. I saw it came to the room three times and never for a second - she did not turn back to him. I watched him for several weeks, almost scored to work. During this time, he changed her sheets again, but I never saw it. I do not know how it happened, if only at night, when I slept. I also learned that a couple of times a week a woman from his apartment goes somewhere for 30-40 minutes. I saw it coming out of the entrance and returns back with a pair of packages. Several times I was able to trace her - she went to the nearest grocery store, and on the way back it was in the pharmacy. I tried to find out what she bought in a pharmacy, but she took a check with him, but I didn't dare to ask the pharmacist. Once every two days, the woman came to him into the room, did the injection, smoked a cigarette, went out. She did not turn away from him for a second. I thoroughly studied his room. I thought a lot about the stripes on the door, about the encouraged wallpaper. Stripes on the door is an encouraged paint. And it became the same as the wallpaper on the walls - nails on his hands. I had no reason to think that it was so, but I did not find other explanations. He began to scare me. I looked at him through the sight, I stared at him in the back of the head, and he just sat on his bed in the corner. It was especially terribly to see how in the next apartment, small children play and jump on the sofa, and behind the wall, in fact, in a pair of meters, this freak sits on the bed. I understood that you need to do something, but could not come up with that. Call the police? And what to say to them? Well, they will come to the door, they will not be discharged, and then what? I was all got it. I rummaged the whole Internet, but besides standard horror stories, I did not find anything (although one story, it seems to me, I still had a relationship to this). I tried to learn something among the residents of the house, but it seems that no one knew anything about him. In the end, I decided on the most idiotic act in my life. I was well prepared - I took a couple of my best knives, a traumatic revolver, a mask to keep the face, ladies, a flashlight, the fire chamber to distract attention, a smoke checker. I shatter it all on my pockets, while trying not to look suspiciously and not loud at every step, then I went outdoor, I sat down at the doorway at the entrance and waited. If at this moment, militiamen decided to get to do at this point, I would have problems above the roof. Sometimes I regret that this did not happen. The most joke was that then, sitting on a bench, I had no idea what was going to do. After 40 minutes, I saw that a woman from the apartment came out of the house and went his usual dear towards the store. It was for half an hour of time. I got up and went into the entrance, from which she came out. Rose on the eighth floor. The door to the hall was not locked, and I opened it. I found myself in the middle of a slightly lit corridor, one of the ends of which was incredibly very climbed. Along the walls stood metal backs from beds, a bicycle without wheels, skiing, sledges, some dust boxes, wreckage of wooden furniture, and there was still a wheelchair. For some reason, she attracted my attention. After catching that the door in the apartment of interest to me is just in the near-closed end of the corridor, by hopping my breath, moved there. Here it is upholstered by a brown oilcloth, apartment number 41. Door handle, keyholes, eyes - nothing special. I stopped in a pair of meters from the door, trying to collect my thoughts. What am I doing here? What is going to do? I beat a large trembling. I just stood and stupidly translated a look from the door to the wheelchair and back. At some point, I suddenly realized that in addition to his hard fee, I hear something else. I detained my breath and listened. "Schuaark ... Schwarak ...". The sound was walking due to the door of the apartment 41 and was clearly approaching. Before I realized that it was, the sounds were acknowledged. Silence has come. Thoughts in my head slowly slowly moved. I got to me that I heard his screaming steps. He approached the door and now stands behind her. Damn, yes he looks at me through my eyes! At this point, the door handle began to spin quickly, and on the door inside, it seems, they fell well, judging by how she shook. I was the spirit ran away from there. As descended from the eighth floor - I do not remember, I can say one thing - very quickly. Only running out of the entrance, was able to take himself in hand. I had enough mind not immediately to your home to run, but make a hook around the quarter, traces to confuse. At home I was in 10 minutes. Without having rushing, ran into the room, grabbed the rifle, the sight was on his window. And here I was afraid of really. He stood by the window, scraper with his hands on the glass and, if I curse, if he did not stare right on me. I saw him just a second, but what I saw would never forget. Thin elongated body, through pale skin. Cut the bones, long hands with curved fingers scrast on the glass, on a huge, almost white, hairless head tiny ugly worry face - two large Dark eyes and lips lips. His hands moved, the mouth opened and closed, leaving on the glass wet traces, and her eyes looked at me exactly. I just felt this look. You know, although at that moment my brain was paralyzed by horror, but the body knew what to do. As in a dream, I pulled out of the window and rushed to the closet, where I was lying the cartridge box. For ten seconds, I returned with the already charged remigraton. I didn't care what will happen after. Although the shutter, I threw back and quickly took the window on the sight. In the crossroad I saw only swaying, tightly dressed curtains. I moved from the apartment on the same day. I paid it with the owner, he did not ask questions, I was grateful to him for it. Focusing at work, I lived for several months, everything began to forget. Sometimes I remember him. I understood why he sat face to the wall - he was so planted. Especially so that he does not see other people. Who is he? I do not know. Is he dangerous? I think that is definitely. Sometimes I see it in a dream. He screbs into my door, and I look at him in the eye. And my rifle in these dreams once over time gives some kind of coloring. I do not like that he saw me then. Will I'm afraid? I have a weapon, and I can stand for myself, but I am lying if I say that I'm not scary. 🌹