The lonely house of events are real, they have occurred personally with me in about 1998

. I was then 15 years old, but I still remember the horror, which then survived. And, probably, I will remember him the rest of my life. At that time we lived in a small two-story house for 5 families, built next to a small railway gestand. In Soviet times, my parents worked for railway workers and settled them in this house so that they were closer to the duty. The house was built before the war, miraculously preserved, and our apartment on the second floor looked like a fortress: 3-trap ceilings, thick brick walls. In the early 90s, when the times were restless and on the railway, candid robbers often occurred, parents ordered and installed powerful iron doors and iron grilles on the windows. Who saved me later life. There was a late spring evening. It has long been dark, the parents went to visit relatives to the next city, I safely disappeared, referring to the lessons. I lay myself completely alone in the apartment (as it turned out, and in the whole house) and watched something neutral on TV. And then knocked on the door. Did not call, although the call was and worked, namely, they knocked. And the sound was as if they were knocked out ... a large wooden hammer or a huge fist. This sound in the middle of the night I, to put it mildly, did not please and did not foretell me anything good. Honestly, I was very frightened. Not bandits, zombies or something else specific, but just scared. The fear originated somewhere in the vertebrae of the neck, slipped on the spine to the stomach, hands did not obey, and the legs became wadd. It is difficult to describe, but I knew from somewhere that I was the end. Absolutely accurately without options. Strokes in the door stopped. Horning a little bit loose enough and I was able to find the strength to go to the door. And look in the eye. What I saw there, I can not understand and realize so far. Behind the door stood not_chelovka. It was a creature, more than any man I have ever seen. It was with the head to the head of the ukutano in some dark tarp cloak, obviously not new and dusty. As if the raincoat was ten years old in the attic, and then he was dressed, without having bothering to make dust and cobweb. On the head at the knocking was a huge hood (part of the raincoat), because of which the faces were not visible. But I was sure that the Vizier looks straight into the eyes and knows that I look at him. We stood and silently looked at the door each for their part. I was hit by a small shiver, and the creature in the tarpaulin did not give any signs of life. I did not publish a sound, I tried not to breathe. There was no thoughts in my head, there was no panic, it was just a feeling of all-absorbing horror and hopelessness. The reason was not only the appearance of my guest, but also the way he breathed: a man cannot breathe so much. Neither drunk nor breathing after running, nor molding (and he did not think to fade) a man is not physically breathing. And then, the creation of a smoothly-jerk-dangling hand behind the door and embarked in a fist in the same as a raincoat, a tarpaulin glove, on the armored door to my apartment. It moved, like a drunken robot or a monster from a cheap computer toy: unnaturally, but scary. I also hit yet. It seemed absolutely not confused by the fact that the door was not amenable to - he was ready to beat her as much as it was necessary. I stood in a half-meter from the door and listened to the rhythmic blows on the door. I was afraid. I was not afraid that the door would not stand, I was afraid of death, namely the one who knocks on the door. I was not afraid that it would kill me. I was scared that such a thing could exist. Soon I returned the ability to think. At first I thought that the neighbors would hear and come to the revenue, because These strikes were heard throughout the house. But then I remembered that the house began to settle, because He was to demolish and at the moment only 2 families lived here - our and one more on the first floor. They probably did not have at home, or they were not solved to go out. The second thought was to call, I even ran up and removed the handset, but there was no beep. I just heard about the mobile phones and I didn't have it, of course. The thought jumped into the window then did not even occur, because Probably the instinct of self-preservation blocked even the idea that you could leave a reliable shelter and meet with this hellish creature on the street. And the monster continued to knock his fist at the door. Monotonously, meaningless and silent. I also did not rub the word, quietly returned and sat on my bed. Litished these blows and fell asleep in a few hours. It seems unreal and illogical, but the body, exhausted by experienced horror, simply turned off. When I woke up, it was morning outside the window. No one no longer pounded the door, but I would not get to check out (and even look into the eyes) I did not decrease for a long time. I lay and listened, but nothing but noise of the railway outside the window was not heard. Then he still got a little courage, on tiptoe burst into the phone - he worked. I immediately called my parents and asked them to return home as soon as possible. I tried to honestly tell about what happened. They decided that it simply came a healthy drunk gangster, which in the dark it seemed too terrible. I did not argue, as I understood the mind that I say unrealing things, and I myself would never believe in my nonsense, if someone had told me. Celebrations on the door were told that I still didn't invent the story completely, and the parents did not have to write a statement to the police about the robbery attack on the apartment. That all ended. At the very least, I have been hopeful for many years that