Everyone was going crazy with helplessness

I went there. The small, quiet village sits on a hill, offering a beautiful view of fields and forests. As I admired the surroundings, I noticed a roadside cross—the kind erected in memory of road accident victims. At the cross, I turned onto a dirt road leading to a modest building. Mr. Tomasz and Mr. Renek were waiting for me in the yard. It was Renek I spoke with on the phone. "This farm has been in our family for generations. My grandparents, parents, and my aunt's family lived here. A tenant also lived here, but he hanged himself. My uncle, my aunt's first husband, also hanged himself. He left two children behind. My aunt later remarried—to Uncle Tomek, but the marriage was not a happy one. My uncle divorced my aunt, and shortly after, on November 11, 1991, a fire broke out in the house. My uncle's son died inside. You could hear him screaming. Everyone was frantic with helplessness, because the house was burning like a torch, and there was no way to save the boy. Since then, I've been hearing knocking, cries, and the baby's cries in the house. My mother even witnessed with her own eyes a spoon spinning in a cup of tea.