Stump

Between the ages of 9 and 11, my brother and I had a passion for climbing a mountain near the town of Korkino almost every day. Back then (eight years ago), the mountain seemed enormous. Of course, we'd heard legends about a pre-war explosion and fire nearby that claimed the lives of many people, but we paid no attention to it.

Recently, a year ago, my brother, a mutual friend, and I decided to reminisce about our youth. We set out around three in the afternoon. We took nothing with us except mineral water and gingerbread.

On the way, we stumbled upon a strange place. Among the birch trees, which were generally quite bright, we noticed a dark spot. Pine trees grew so densely over an area about 20 by 20 meters that they blocked out the sunlight, creating a gloomy atmosphere. Even stranger, we discovered unusual figures and structures there. Cubes, crosses, and stars were formed from thin pine sticks. They were tied together with bloody bandages. Some of the pine trees themselves were also out of order—bent at 90 degrees, literally.

It was six o'clock in the evening. After inspecting the area, we continued climbing. We climbed to the top, where there was nothing special—rocks, earth, boulders... we sat down to rest and drank mineral water. We sat there for two to two and a half hours, and only then realized we smelled gas. Everyone had headaches. It was getting dark, and we had to go back. We descended quickly, practically sitting down on the rocks as we slid down.

Before reaching the mountain (or vice versa), we had to cross a swamp about four meters wide. Swimming was impossible—it was a quagmire. That's when the fun began. Even though we'd been there many times and knew every bush, my brother and I were completely disoriented (my friend was there for the first time). We had no idea where we were or where we were supposed to go... it was already night, and we were still wandering along the edge of the swamp. Our feet were soaked by the damp grass, and everyone was bitten by mosquitoes. Owls began screeching. It was the first time I'd heard an owl make a sound like a little girl's scream. We walked along the swamp, looking for a crossing. I glanced back many times, strangely enough, constantly noticing a certain stump. It was smoldering—some kind of smoke was visible near it. I didn't pay it any mind at the time, because I kept turning around and catching a glimpse of it.

Suddenly, I heard someone catching up with me from behind, running. Without turning around, I continued on. Then a friend (it turned out to be him) suddenly grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me forward. We caught up with my brother and stopped.

"Why are you scaring the man like that?" I asked indignantly. "Where are you going?"

My friend's face suddenly relaxed. His face became so calm and frightening that my knees began to tremble. He looked at me for a full minute and said,

"Turn around."

My brother and I turned around.

"So what?" my brother asked.

And then it dawned on me. This whole time we were looking for the road, this "stump" had been following us. It was terrifying to think that I wasn't the only one who had found it suspicious. We slowly backed away, and it moved behind us—about 10 meters away, no more and no less. We walked forward, and it moved behind us. We walked toward it, and it moved away from us. It was the dead of night—nothing was visible except this "stump."

My friend grabbed me by the shoulder again. I turned to him and saw that his entire chin was covered in blood—his nose had started bleeding so badly that you could have filled a glass with it. But his face was still calm. He started telling me that we were going the wrong way. "Well, yes, of course," I thought ironically. "You've been here a hundred times before, unlike us, inexperienced as we are."

I was just about to move on when he squeezed my shoulder again, his eyes turning mad:

"I said no, we'll go along. That's what I want!"

Who would argue, looking at a man whose face is covered in blood, his eyes darting frantically from side to side, and yet he's as calm as stone. My brother was already in tears—no, he's a strong man, but when you're aimlessly wandering at night along the edge of a swamp twenty kilometers from the dacha, through wet grass and a cloud of mosquitoes, your nerves give out. We followed our friend. The "Stump" didn't give up even a meter. And then—miraculously!—we somehow reached the bridge.

We ran the entire 20 kilometers, without looking back or speaking. Once they arrived, they fell asleep, but nightmares tormented them all for a long time. Well, not really nightmares—you close your eyes, and there before you is a dog's skull with red eyes. All three of them had seen this vision, and all three had seen the tree stump, too.