Natalya Kalinina is a thin thread of purpose. Thin thread of purpose

The cold of the September night hugged his shoulders with ghostly hands, a gusty wind, like some joker sneaking up on tiptoe from behind, blew into the back of his head, or even tried to get under his windbreaker, which was pulled up to the collar, and chill him from the inside. And yet, despite the cold, a strange mist dissipated my attention, enveloping me in half-asleep, which was completely inappropriate in this situation. The man moved his shoulders, as if throwing off invisible palms, and again focused on observation. Somewhere nearby a branch crunched, not frightening, but alerting. Did the boys really not listen and come here? If this is so, then he will give them a beating! Or is it Lika? It will happen to her too. The man listened to see if he could hear the rustle of steps of a cautiously creeping man, but his ear could not distinguish any more extraneous noises. And yet he waited a little longer, still, like a hunter, and fully alert. No, everything is quiet. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Waiting just like that is boring. Especially if you don’t really know what exactly, and without one hundred percent certainty that something will certainly happen that night. But if he wasn’t sure that something would happen, even eighty percent, he wouldn’t have exchanged a sound sleep in a paid room in a not very luxurious, but also not bad hotel for duty under the dark windows of an abandoned building.

The lighter, which had always served him well, suddenly balked. The man clicked the wheel in an unsuccessful attempt to strike a fire, but in response only idle clicks were heard, and a spark that did not bring any benefit flashed a couple of times. You would have thought that the lighter had run out of gas, but he had only refilled it a couple of days ago. Maybe this place had that effect on her? After all, during the day all their properly charged equipment, even cell phones, turned off. You can expect anything from this estate. Once again, without any hope, he clicked the wheel and finally struck out a small flame, from which he managed to light a cigarette. “Come on, don’t let me down!” – the man turned mentally to the building, white in the darkness, whose outline was similar to an iceberg that suddenly appeared in front of the bow of a cruise ship: it seemed just as cold, majestic and... deadly. But time passed and nothing happened. Midnight had long passed - the hour for which he had high hopes. Waiting in vain? The man trampled the cigarette butt with his sock rough boot into the ground, resolutely threw his backpack behind his back and adjusted the camera strap around his neck. What does he really expect? That the light would flash in the windows, revealing dark silhouettes to his gaze? If he wants to get something, then he needs to go inside. During the day, she and Lika carefully examined the room and found that the stairs were still strong and there were no trap holes in the floor. And he has a powerful flashlight with him. Unless, of course, it suddenly fails. This building of an abandoned estate actually hid many secrets. And just as he was thinking this, he suddenly noticed in one of the windows on the second floor a muffled light that flashed and immediately went out, as if someone was giving someone a prearranged signal. The man whistled in delight and hurriedly walked towards the porch, not taking his eyes off the windows. The light flared up again and this time did not go out, it only disappeared for a while and appeared in another window, as if someone was walking through the rooms with a lit candle in their hands. Maybe someone really got inside? Somebody alive, overly curious or who has found temporary shelter in an abandoned building. The man turned off the lantern just in case. And just in time, because I heard someone’s steps. Someone was walking ahead of him towards the porch. The moon, peeking out from behind the clouds, illuminated the thin, short figure of a girl who easily ran up the steps and froze indecision in front of the door.

- Hey? – he called out to the girl. But she didn’t seem to hear. She pulled the heavy door towards herself and disappeared behind it. The man rushed forward at a run, trying to overtake the stranger. Who is she? Judging by her build, Lika is clearly not tall. Live she or... The man entered, and the door behind him slammed shut by itself. A noisy knock broke the silence, spread like a wave through the empty room and responded with an unpleasant jolt in the chest. He couldn’t help but think that all routes to retreat were cut off, and for a moment he was overcome desire turn around and leave. Maybe he would have done so if not for the thought of the girl who was a minute ahead of him. The man turned on the flashlight and cast a powerful beam of light around the room. Empty. No one. But the silence seemed deceptive to him; he felt with his skin the inhabitants of this house hiding in the dark corners of the hall. Will they let him back out? And, although he was not at all the timid type, the invisible glances directed at him from all sides made him feel uneasy. There was a rustling sound somewhere upstairs, followed by a muffled sigh, which seemed to him almost louder than the sound of a door slamming shut. The man resisted the unreasonable impulse to immediately rush forward towards the noise, raised the lantern and illuminated the landing above him. And he could barely contain his scream. He had seen a lot in his lifetime, but this was the first time he had to face something like this. And it would be better not to see this! As if hearing his spontaneous wish, the lantern in his hands suddenly vibrated, the light blinked and went out. And at the same moment the silence was broken by wild screams, laughter and sobs. And someone whispered insinuatingly right next to his ear: “Welcome to hell!”

I

The photograph was so large that it was larger than the narrow window on the other wall and seemed out of place in the small room. Such a portrait belongs in a museum, and not in this village house, in a tiny guest bedroom: a young lady in a white narrow closed dress with a high collar and a rose at the corsage. The woman put one arm, covered with a sleeve, behind her back, and placed the other on the back of a nearby chair. Dark hair, parted and arranged around the head in an intricate hairstyle, revealed high forehead and small earlobes. Perhaps at one time the lady was considered attractive, but Marina found her face repulsive. Most likely because of the look: dark eyes looked into the lens warily and sternly. The girl immediately imagined that the unknown woman had once been a teacher in a pre-revolutionary gymnasium for girls.

Thin thread purpose

Natalya Dmitrievna Kalinina

Signs of fate

Olesya knew from childhood that she had to die young, just at the moment when she met her true love. She saw this fate in the house of the soothsayer and since then she lived with a feeling of tragic predetermination, especially since all the other predictions completely came true. And now the appointed time has come, but Olesya really wants to live, and how can you die when everything is just beginning?..

Natalia Kalinina

Thin thread of purpose

The lighter, which had always served him well, suddenly balked. The man clicked the wheel in an unsuccessful attempt to strike a fire, but in response only idle clicks were heard, and a spark that did not bring any benefit flashed a couple of times. You would have thought that the lighter had run out of gas, but he had only refilled it a couple of days ago. Maybe this place had that effect on her? After all, during the day all their properly charged equipment, even cell phones, turned off. You can expect anything from this estate. Once again, without any hope, he clicked the wheel and finally struck out a small flame, from which he managed to light a cigarette. “Come on, don’t let me down!” – the man turned mentally to the building, white in the darkness, whose outline was similar to an iceberg that suddenly appeared in front of the bow of a cruise ship: it seemed just as cold, majestic and... deadly. But time passed and nothing happened. Midnight had long passed - the hour for which he had high hopes. Waiting in vain? The man trampled the cigarette butt into the ground with the toe of his rough boot, resolutely threw his backpack behind his back and adjusted the camera strap around his neck. What does he really expect? That the light would flash in the windows, revealing dark silhouettes to his gaze? If he wants to get something, then he needs to go inside. During the day, she and Lika carefully examined the room and found that the stairs were still strong and there were no trap holes in the floor. And he has a powerful flashlight with him. Unless, of course, it suddenly fails. This building of an abandoned estate actually hid many secrets. And just as he was thinking this, he suddenly noticed in one of the windows on the second floor a muffled light that flashed and immediately went out, as if someone was giving someone a prearranged signal. The man whistled in delight and hurriedly walked towards the porch, not taking his eyes off the windows. The light flared up again and this time did not go out, it only disappeared for a while and appeared in another window, as if someone was walking through the rooms with a lit candle in their hands. Maybe someone really got inside? Someone alive, overly curious, or who has found temporary shelter in an abandoned building. The man turned off the lantern just in case. And just in time, because I heard someone’s steps. Someone was walking ahead of him towards the porch. The moon, peeking out from behind the clouds, illuminated the thin, short figure of a girl who easily ran up the steps and froze indecision in front of the door.

- Hey? – he called out to the girl. But she didn’t seem to hear. She pulled the heavy door towards herself and disappeared behind it. The man rushed forward at a run, trying to overtake the stranger. Who is she? Judging by her build, Lika is clearly not tall. Is she alive or... The man entered, and the door behind him slammed shut by itself. A noisy knock broke the silence, spread like a wave through the empty room and responded with an unpleasant jolt in the chest. He couldn’t help but think that all routes to retreat were cut off, and for a moment he was overcome by a strong desire to turn around and leave. Maybe he would have done so if not for the thought of the girl who was a minute ahead of him. The man turned on the flashlight and cast a powerful beam of light around the room. Empty. No one. But the silence seemed deceptive to him; he felt with his skin the inhabitants of this house hiding in the dark corners of the hall. Will they let him back out? And, although he was not at all the timid type, the invisible glances directed at him from all sides made him feel uneasy. There was a rustling sound somewhere upstairs, followed by a muffled sigh, which seemed to him almost louder than the sound of a door slamming shut. The man resisted the unreasonable impulse to immediately rush forward towards the noise, raised the lantern and illuminated the landing above him. And he could barely contain his scream. He had seen a lot in his lifetime, but this was the first time he had to face something like this. And it would be better not to see this! As if hearing his spontaneous wish, the lantern in his hands suddenly vibrated, the light blinked and went out. And at the same moment the silence was broken by wild screams, laughter and sobs. And someone whispered insinuatingly right next to his ear: “Welcome to hell!”

The photograph was so large that it was larger than the narrow window on the other wall and seemed out of place in the small room. Such a portrait belongs in a museum, and not in this village house, in a tiny guest bedroom: a young lady in a white tight closed dress with a high collar and a rose at the bodice. The woman put one arm, covered with a sleeve, behind her back, and placed the other on the back of a nearby chair. Her dark hair, parted in the middle and styled around her head in an intricate updo, revealed a high forehead and small earlobes. Perhaps at one time the lady was considered attractive, but Marina found her face repulsive. Most likely because of the look: dark eyes looked into the lens warily and sternly. The girl immediately imagined that the unknown woman had once been a teacher in a pre-revolutionary gymnasium for girls.

- Well, how do you like it here? – Alexey asked, and Marina, taking her eyes off the portrait, looked back at the voice. The young man placed a huge suitcase directly on the double bed, covered with a thick colorful blanket, and unfastened the locks with a click.

“Put it down on the floor,” the girl nodded displeasedly at the suitcase. “Aunt Natasha will see it and curse.”

Natalia

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was Alexei's grandmother younger sister, but since childhood he was accustomed to calling her aunt. The hostess was a great neat freak; she had already given the “young people” a short tour of her sterile-clean house, every now and then strictly stipulating what should and should not be done in her domain. For example, after taking a shower, you had to wipe the wet walls behind you with a special cloth and rinse the bathroom. And in the kitchen - under no circumstances use a dish towel for your hands, but take another one - a striped one. And a bunch of other small instructions, to which Alexei nodded obediently, and Marina imperceptibly winced.

“He won’t see,” the guy objected, but he still pushed the suitcase to the floor. Marina just chuckled, thereby answering both his remark and the question that had been asked earlier. It looks like they will have no peace all this week: their aunt will annoy them with nagging and comments. And, most importantly, there is nowhere to escape: the village is small, not a town, but rather a frustrated village. Of all the entertainment - a local club where they show old films, and a narrow fast-flowing river on the outskirts. Another forest. Marina only considered mushroom picking a dubious entertainment: mosquitoes, wet feet and pine needles tucked into her collar did not attract her at all. The girl glanced at the photograph once again and went to the window. From the window there was a view of the vegetable garden behind the house, and the first thing that caught Marina’s eyes were gray-yellow stems, reminiscent of balls of motionless snakes, and muted orange pumpkins between them. Behind the pumpkin patches there was a greenhouse, through the cloudy cellophane walls of which one could see tomato bushes that had grown almost to the ceiling. From such a prospect - for a whole week after waking up to look out the window at the garden bed - tears came to the girl’s eyes. What if, at the whim of Lesha’s aunt, you will have to bend your back at the harvest instead of resting. Oh no! Then it’s better to go to the forest and feed the mosquitoes. Or splash in the river with the frogs.

Things didn't work out from the very beginning. Marina was not given leave for a long time, even though she wrote an application for July. But in May one of her partners went on maternity leave, and the second broke her leg in June, and Marina not only did not manage to go on vacation, but also had to work for three. She was released in September when the employee returned from sick leave. But the dream of going to a foreign resort and capturing the last moments of the passing summer was dashed by Aleshkin’s expired passport. Oh, how Marina swore when she found out that her beloved had played such a trick on her! A week of rest for a modern person, whose every minute is filled with one thing or another, is a luxury. And to get, in this hard-won week, instead of the royal life on the all-inclusive system, to vegetate without amenities in a village forgotten by the gods is a monstrous crime. She agreed only because Alexey promised her a honeymoon trip to the Maldives as compensation. And for the sake of this, you can be patient: there is not so long to wait until the wedding.

“Okay, don’t be sour,” the man said conciliatoryly. - Better help.

Marina moved away from the window and sat down over the open suitcase. They took few things for the week: in the village, apart from summer shorts, a few T-shirts, a windbreaker and spare jeans, they wouldn’t need anything. Tall Alexey gave her the lower shelves in the closet, and he himself occupied the upper ones. All the time that Marina was laying out her clothes, she could not shake the feeling that someone was watching her. A couple of times the girl glanced outside the window: maybe her aunt had gone out into the garden and was sneaking a peek at them? Or someone else? But no, there was still not a soul in the garden. And yet, every time she turned to the closet, she felt a dangerous look on her back, like a poisonous spider, which she wanted to immediately shake off. Where did this feeling of anxiety come from? There was no one in the room except him and Alexei. It’s not the lady from the portrait looking at her!

- Why are you twitching? – Alexey asked when the girl looked back once again. Marina shrugged her shoulders: you couldn’t say that she was uncomfortable under someone’s invisible gaze. Leshka will only laugh or, even worse, get angry, deciding that she has come up with another reason why she doesn’t like it here, in addition to those already expressed earlier. Yes, he knows that she is not at all enthusiastic about the prospect of a holiday in the village! But for the sake of a loved one, he can wait a week, especially since he promised a luxurious trip later! This is what Alexey would answer her. So Marina simply shook her head and closed the closet door.

– Don’t know who it is? – She nodded as indifferently as possible at the lady in the photograph.

– Who knows... Maybe some great-grandmother or relative. If you want, I'll ask my aunt.

- No need. – Marina put her hands in her jeans pockets and spun on her heels, once again looking around the whole room. Under the portrait there was a narrow chest of drawers with three drawers, which the aunt asked not to occupy, and on the chest itself, on a crocheted white napkin, artificial roses proudly stood in a blue glass vase. Against the opposite wall, covered with a colorful carpet, there was a double bed with a high polished headboard, neatly covered with a blanket. Before the guests arrived, there was a pile of down pillows of different sizes on it, which the aunt then took away. Marina’s grandmother had the same pillows in the village, and every evening the grandmother carefully took them off and transferred them to a narrow ottoman, and in the morning she again arranged them in a pile on the made bed - in starched snow-white pillowcases without a single wrinkle, with perfectly straightened sharp corners. Every time little Marina wanted to scatter these pillows and lie in them, imagining that they were clouds. But, of course, no one allowed her to do this.

A narrow tall cabinet occupied the wall near front door, and on the opposite side, near the window, stood a bulky chair, covered with a cape made from the same fabric as the bedspread. Everything seems homely, clean, but somehow outdated and dull, despite the owner’s attempts to create comfort. The room was somehow faded and expressionless, and old things evoked vague memories of childhood, which now, through the prism of modern abundance and more successful life, Marina didn’t seem so happy. If the furnishings in the room were a little brighter and more modern, you see, and the prospect of spending a week in these places would not seem so depressing.

- Well, did you figure it out? “The door to the room swung open and the hostess entered without knocking. Marina shuddered in surprise and thought with hostility that if her aunt had such a habit of barging in without warning, she and Alexei would definitely not be able to live here. However, what can you expect from an elderly woman who has been single for decades?

- Lunch is on the table! “Go wash your hands,” the hostess announced and, without waiting for an answer, closed the door.

- I do not want to eat! – Marina protested.

- But you have to. Don't offend your aunt! - Alexei objected sternly, like a father, and, taking the girl by the hand, led her into the bright, clean kitchen, where the table was already set.

- Nothing at all? – Olesya asked confusedly and bit her lip, as in childhood, when she was ready to cry. Yaroslav remembered this feature of hers,

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and for a moment it seemed to him that there were no two decades left behind. And that now the first tear, transparent and sparkling, like a pure diamond drop, will roll down her pale cheek strewn with golden freckles. But Olesya, dispelling the cloud of memories, smiled - from the edges of her lips, sadly and at the same time incredulously, and Yaroslav, feeling guilty for her disappointment, threw up his hands.

- There is no one left from the previous staff there. An abandoned building, empty for many years, what do you want...

“You should have asked around,” she raised her eyes to him, either in some hope or in slight reproach. At the first moment Yaroslav did not find what to answer. Olesya had amazing eyes, the color of honey, with dark specks like freckles. Depending on whether she looked into the light or remained in the shadows, her eyes seemed either light transparent, like linden honey, and then the specks stood out sharply against the main background of the iris, or darkened to the color of buckwheat.

- I asked. From the locals. We need to bring up the archives. Here…

The man fussily took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and carefully smoothed it out on the plastic tabletop.

– I managed to get the telephone number of one archive, which may contain some documentation. Don't worry, I'll call you and then I'll go and find out everything.

He extended his hand across the table and covered the girl’s cool fingers. Olesya did not withdraw her hand, but tensed up like a tense string, and Yaroslav hastily removed his palm.

“We’ll go together,” the girl answered quietly but firmly after a short pause. He didn’t like this idea because of a whole bunch of reasons, which, however, converged on one point - Olesya’s state of health. You need to go to another city. And this means a long journey, a hotel, and the lack of qualified personnel if something happens. medical care. He opened his mouth to object, but Olesya was no longer looking at him. Lost in her thoughts, she thoughtfully stirred the already dissolved sugar in a glass of orange juice with a straw and seemed absent. She had such a strange feature - in the middle of a lively conversation, she would suddenly go into her thoughts, and then just as suddenly “wake up” and apologize with an embarrassed smile. The September sun, shyly peeking through the windows of the cafe, then hid in the girl’s chestnut-red hair, then emerged from its waves, and then it seemed that a golden halo was appearing above Olesya’s head. Yaroslav regretted that his camera was not with him now to capture this marvelous shot in all its autumn colors. He loved to photograph Olesya, she was his Muse, but he just had to take pictures of her unnoticed. She didn’t know how to pose - she tensed, curled her lips in an uncertain smile, hid her inner self behind seven locks, like a relic, and became some kind of stranger. Even the color of her hair was fading, and her eyes seemed to turn gray, losing not only their color, but also their speckles. What was the reason for such metamorphoses, neither Yaroslav nor Olesya knew. He became upset and angry, looking at the frames through the camera window, but she laughed loudly at her lack of photogenicity and became herself again. And Yaroslav, instantly giving up looking at the unsuccessful photographs, clicked the button, hastening to capture her real self, her true self, peeking out like the sun from behind a cloud, with a roaring laugh. Olesya covered herself with one hand, waved the other at him and became even more excited. And he, like a man possessed, clicked and clicked...

– Slav, when will you call the archive? - she asked, suddenly emerging from her reverie, as if awakened by a loud sound.

- Tomorrow morning.

- Tomorrow? Give me the phone, I’ll call you today,” she showed impatience. - I'm not as busy as you.

“I know, I know,” he smiled tenderly. – But the archive is already closed. And besides, I am pleased to do something for you.

- You do everything anyway. You live for me and my life,” she said sadly, again shaking the juice with a straw. - Just me and the photographs...

- But I don’t need more.

- It is not right! It shouldn’t be like this, you can’t be tied to my skirt all your life! You have your own dreams and desires. You are a young, healthy man, attractive and...

“Shh,” he interrupted and covered her fingers with his palm again. - Do not worry. I'll figure out my life somehow. Now other tasks come first, you know? And the last thing I want is for you to feel guilty. This deprives me of support.

- I will try.

- That's a smart girl!

“Slav...” she began and hesitated. - Just call me first thing in the morning, please. It is very important. You see, I can't wait long.

He himself understood that the matter was urgent, but something new appeared in her tone. Not simple feminine impatience, but intense anxiety.

- Something happened? – he asked directly, looking into her darkened eyes.

“No,” Olesya answered after a pause. – These are just my moods, which I don’t want to upset you with...

– You have to tell me everything! – Yaroslav exclaimed, annoyed at her delicacy. – Otherwise, if I don’t know everything, how can I help? We are one team, one family, and besides, you only have me.

A shadow passed over her face, as if his last words had displeased her. But the girl did not argue. Instead, she said in a decisive tone:

- The time has come. I recently turned twenty-seven. And, as they predicted, I won’t live to see twenty-eight.

- Do not say that! – Yaroslav suddenly shouted, and all the few visitors to the cafe looked at him. Olesya touched his hand soothingly, and he fell silent. Only his flaring nostrils and tightly compressed lips betrayed the storm of emotions rushing out in him.

“Everything that was predicted has already come true,” she reminded in a tired voice. - Everything.

“Cursed be the day it all began!”

– What would it change, Slav? Nothing. Only that we would be in the dark.

– I would prefer not to know.

– Without knowing, you deprive yourself of the opportunity to prepare.

- For what?! To the loss of loved ones?! It is impossible to prepare for this! You know.

“Oh, Slava, Slava...” Olesya smiled so brightly and kindly, as if we were talking about something joyful and exciting, for example, a long-planned trip, and not about death. The man thought angrily that the books she had read were to blame for Olesya’s failure to fully perceive the danger. Some kind of sectarian, God forgive me, you can’t call it anything else. They completely fooled her and promised her eternal life. happy life"there". But life is here! Here and now. But try to prove this to Olesya, when she talks about the time left to her so simply, as if she really lives in joyful anticipation of the final moment.

“Don’t be angry,” the girl said softly, guessing what he was thinking. The sun peeking through the window again ran through her hair with golden sparkles. And suddenly all the anger left Yaroslav at once. The man drooped, deflated like a balloon from which the air had been let out, and nodded, admitting defeat. Maybe she, reading books about the immortality of the soul, is right. I’m right in that I chose humble anticipation of the finale instead of hysteria and agony. As if on her

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Where did he behave if it were over him, and not over her, that a terrible sentence hung? And yet, since she started a search and asks him to hurry up, does this mean that she has not resigned herself and decided to fight? He glanced at the girl, but before he could speak, Olesya killed his hope with one phrase:

– What is planned will happen one way or another, Slav.

– Don’t be such a fatalist! Otherwise, why should we waste our energy? I thought you weren't going to give up! Why are you going to fight?

She sighed:

– Slav, I’ve been struggling all my life. And you are with me.

- Yes, yes, I know. Sorry.

– I want to find a man who should now be a little over twenty. Maybe I can’t change my fate, but I’ll try to change his.

- But how will you find him if you don’t know not only his name, but even his gender! And in what city should we look for her or him? Olesya, do you understand that you have conceived the impossible?

“I just believe, I believe that since our paths crossed once, it can happen again.” Since the countdown has begun and nothing can be changed, this place will call him or her.

“No,” admitted Olesya.

– You take on too much.

“That’s not the answer I’m expecting, Yaroslav,” she reproached him. “Just tell me we can handle it.”

- Necessarily! – he answered and, standing up, hugged the girl. She trustingly pressed herself against him and wrapped both arms around him. Like once upon a time, in childhood, during a strong thunderstorm... She was afraid of the thunderstorm.

Alexey had been quietly snoring for a long time, turning to the “carpeted” wall, and Marina was still spinning around without sleep. She felt uncomfortable, the mattress seemed stuffed with unevenly bunched cotton wool, and the pillow seemed too flat. Although this was not the case. It is possible that the reason for her insomnia is due to unusually heavy food. Marina almost never had a big dinner, limiting herself to yogurt or a green apple, but here, having walked in the fresh air, and not yet daring to object to the strict housewife, she ate a large portion of an omelet from country eggs, two slices of bread and washed it all down with cool, thick milk. She was also kept awake by anxiety and fear - this happened to her, but not very often, only when she and Alexei watched some “horror” movie before going to bed. But now there was no visible reason for fear. Moreover, this day, which started unpleasantly for Marina, ended well.

It was strange to think that even today, before dawn, they, nervously and quarreling, hurriedly packed a suitcase, putting forgotten things into it, then drove through traffic jams by taxi to the bus station, almost were late, but managed to run into the bus at the last moment. A tiring road with stops in provincial towns, and they, tired and exhausted, finally got off at the right station. When Marina stepped off the landing onto the cracked asphalt and looked around, it seemed to her as if they had not just traveled on a bus, but had fallen into a portal that had taken them either to another time, or to an alien dimension. The platform turned out to be so small that only half a dozen people could hardly fit on it. And in the station building, everything desperately screamed for a major overhaul - from the tiles falling off the roof, lying on the ground in small sharp-angled fragments, to the broken windows sealed with plywood and the cracks that streaked the facade. The “face” of the village where they were to spend their vacation turned out to be ugly, like that of an unkempt old woman who had lost her mind. The cars, which rarely scurried along the road without markings, were as unsafe and wretched as the bus station building: broken by unrepaired roads, with rusted bottoms, strainingly coughing from exhaust pipes, like tuberculosis patients - the old men of the Soviet automobile industry living their last days. “It will be better later,” Alexey said, noticing how Marina’s eyes widened in panic. Little consolation... Having spent many summers in these places as a child, the outback attracted him like a child - a treasure chest. IN in this case his “treasures” were memories of the delights of village life, incomprehensible to the girl, far from civilization and shops. Well, what’s so attractive about fishing – getting up before dawn? A tin can filled with squirming worms? Sitting for a long, long time on the bank of a river overgrown with reeds and reeds, waiting for a small fish, fit only for cat food, to bite the bait? No, she will never understand this!

But after they had laid out their things and had a hearty lunch with their aunt’s incredibly tasty cabbage soup with thick village sour cream and homemade berry pie, Alexey suggested taking a walk around the neighborhood. Marina felt tired, but agreed, and, as it turned out, not in vain, because the walk completely erased the remnants of her bad mood. The September sun, which seemed brighter in these places than in the smog-shrouded capital, peeked out from behind the clouds and sparkled in the gilded treetops, and in its rays the landscapes began to look much more cheerful. Of course, the village is not Europe or a seaside resort, and there are a lot of disadvantages to such a vacation, but you can also find advantages. The latter included clean, transparent air, filled with oxygen and the bitter aroma of herbs, which, out of habit, you inhaled greedily and often - to the point of slight dizziness. Another plus is a local bakery with a small shop, where they bought a large pretzel and ate it in half with such appetite, as if they had never had a hearty lunch and tea and pie before. Alexey said that you need to get up early to buy bread at the store, otherwise you won’t get it. Here it is the most delicious on earth, baked in huge loaves that can be squeezed and they will immediately return to their original shape. The crumb, again according to Alexey’s recollections, was large-pore, aromatic and did not cool down for a long time. The man talked so appetizingly about the bread he enjoyed as a child that Marina firmly decided to get up in the morning as early as possible.

Then they sat on the bank of the river, watching local men fishing nearby and children splashing in the water on the opposite bank - flat, with a tiny sandy beach. Alexey dreamily expressed a desire to also go fishing and remembered that somewhere in his aunt’s closet his fishing rods should remain. Marina shrugged her shoulders in response: putting worms on a hook and sitting motionless on the shore for hours - she is not yet ready for this.

After the river, they walked along short streets intertwined into a simple pattern, as if knitted by a novice craftswoman. The village was divided into an old part and a new one, which local residents called “village” and “urban”, respectively. The old part, where Alexei’s relative lived, was a private sector, one-story houses, garden plots, unpaved roads that chickens crossed every now and then, and water pumps left over from the times when houses were deprived of running water. In the “village” part, life seemed to be half a century behind, and this little world, so unfamiliar to a resident of the capital, simultaneously aroused hostility and fascinated. Marina, while walking, turned her head around and looked at her with greedy curiosity.

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someone else's life behind mesh or wooden fences. The new part of the village was founded back in the eighties and consisted of a couple of streets lined up, as if under a giant ruler, with five-story buildings, asphalt sidewalks (though with huge holes and not drying out even in summer heat puddles in them). Alexey said that this area was once considered prestigious; people tried their best to get an apartment in one of the five-story buildings and were ready to exchange houses with lots for a one-room apartment.

Then, after the walk, there was an early dinner, and the aunt, who at first seemed unfriendly and dry to Marina, suddenly softened in the quiet twilight, like a cracker in milk, and willingly entered into conversation. She addressed herself mainly to Alexei, almost ignoring his companion, but Marina, floating in a pleasant, well-fed half-asleep, was not at all affected. She listened, but did not listen closely to the hostess’s questions about Alexei’s relatives, many of whom she did not know, sometimes she yawned furtively, but did not even want to move, let alone get up and go to bed. “Go and get some rest!” – the aunt perked up, noticing how the guest yawned once again. It seemed to Marina that she would fall asleep as soon as her cheek touched the pillow, but, however, the dream, on the contrary, disappeared. The clock in the kitchen struck one, which means two hours have already passed in fruitless attempts to sleep. Mixed with the feeling of anxiety was a nasty feeling, like a cobweb stuck to her face, that someone was looking at her. Again, just like during the day. Cold light from full moon seeped into the room through a small gap between the loosely closed curtains and flowed along the dark floorboards like a silvery stream. Marina stood up to draw the curtains, and shivered from the intensified feeling that someone was staring at her back. A chill of fear ran along the vertebrae, the girl looked back sharply and screamed in fear when she saw that the eyes of the lady from the photograph flashed with an icy, as if moonlight, light. It seemed? Or did it really happen?

“Lesh,” Marina called quietly, not taking her eyes off the darkening rectangle of the portrait on the wall. - Lesh...

But he didn't wake up.

Marina closed her eyes tightly and opened her eyes again. Nothing strange now. So it was just my imagination. A play of moonlight, that’s all: the curtain fluttered, the light leaked into the room for a second and reflected in a bizarre glare on the portrait. The girl crept up to the portrait on tiptoe and touched it with her palm. The frame under her hand was cool, but the glass that hid the enlarged photograph was unexpectedly warm. Marina fearfully withdrew her palm and looked around, as if looking for support, at the sleeping Alexei. Where there, he will wake up! He always sleeps so soundly that even if you shoot a cannon, you won’t wake him up. Succumbing to the decision that suddenly came to her mind, Marina took the frame of the portrait with both hands and lifted it. Managed! Luckily for her, the portrait hung on screws screwed into the wall on an ordinary cord, which made it possible to turn it facing the wall without any problems, without removing it. Like this. Marina grinned triumphantly and, forgetting to close the curtains, returned to bed. Surprisingly, as if the reason for her insomnia really lay in the lady looking at her, she soon began to fall into a long-awaited slumber. But, before falling asleep, she still had time to think that in the morning she could not avoid Leshka’s surprised questions. But that didn't matter anymore. Marina smiled and finally fell asleep.

The door slammed shut with an unexpectedly loud knock, causing Olesya to flinch in fear and pull her head into her shoulders. And then there was silence, dense as a cotton blanket, cutting her off from the outside world. The silence did not last long; after a moment it was broken by the rare sound of drops, as if someone had left a tap slightly open. Olesya looked around warily in the dim, oppressive light of a single light bulb hanging under the concrete ceiling on a black cord. The room turned out to be small, square and frighteningly empty. Only along the gray damp walls were thick and thin pipes stretched, bending almost at right angles and going into the ceiling. On some of the thicker pipes, Olesya saw round taps. Water actually oozed from one of them in rare drops, and a small bloody and rusty puddle formed on the chalky white floor. Olesya involuntarily shivered. Out of fear, she breathed quickly and loudly through her mouth, as if after a fast run. And in this ominous silence, broken only by the rhythmic sound of drops breaking on the floor, her breathing sounded frighteningly loud. We need to calm down, since she came here, we need to move forward.

Opposite the door through which Olesya entered, a second one was visible, only it was no longer wooden, but metal, painted brown. Olesya didn’t know what was behind her, but, like an animal, she felt danger - sharp, like the blade of a new razor. What if it is not water that flows through these pipes, but the blood of curious girls? And the door is not painted with paint, but with brown blood? Olesya covered her mouth with her hand in fear, because along with noisy breathing, a scream escaped from her chest. The desire to turn back became so strong that she almost gave in to it. In a last impulse, convulsive, like the jerk of a person stuck in a quagmire, she threw her hand forward and touched the rusty bracket. And at that moment, pain pierced her like an electric shock. The breath caught, the mouth involuntarily opened wide in a silent scream, the body arched as if under tension, which is why the pain did not become quieter, but, on the contrary, increased, as if someone had turned the handle that supplied the current all the way. Another discharge passed through Olesya’s body from her toes to the back of her head, and with an escaping scream - high, piercing, vibrating at the top note, some of the pain finally splashed out.

“No, I just had a nightmare,” she answered in a deliberately even voice, squinting blindly and blinking frequently.

– You screamed as if in pain! – Yaroslav continued to insist, looming in the doorway of her room. Before running to the scream, he managed to tear the blanket off his bed, and now stood with his head wrapped in it, as if in a raincoat. Olesya felt for the switch with her hand and turned off the general light, and then turned on the table lamp. That's better.

“I’m not screaming in pain,” she smiled sadly and said affectionately: “Slav, go, I’m fine.”

– Don’t you need anything?

- Nothing. Is it true. Sleep.

- Thank you. Good night.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” Yaroslav said, lingering on the threshold.

- I remember. Don't worry, I'm fine.

He finally left, and Olesya, closing her eyes, took a breath, putting part of the pain into this long and careful exhalation. Sometimes meditation helped her. Olesya imagined the pain not as something abstract, but in the form of smoke scattered throughout her body, mentally collecting it into a dense black clot and exhaling it gradually and slowly. But in order to get rid of pain in this way, she needs to be alone and completely concentrate on herself. Yaroslav would only

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interfered: he would have been worried, ran for medicine, brought her water (despite the fact that the bottle with mineral water always stood next to the bed on the nightstand), I would like to call the doctor. Such fuss would drag on for a long time and take away precious time, when the pain is just beginning to emerge and can still be managed. Olesya leaned back on the pillow, stretched out her legs under the blanket, closed her eyes and slowly inhaled, trying to imagine the pain already rising from her ankles to her knees in the form of dark gray smoke. She succeeded, but the “smoke” was already flowing higher – from her knees to her hips. The pain has always been like a fire scattering across dry grass: if you don’t put it out in time, it will consume everything in its path. It seems that Olesya was late: she woke up a little later than she should have, and spent precious moments talking with Yaroslav. Her lower back was already aching, and the girl fidgeted, trying to find a comfortable position and fighting the wild desire to take a protective fetal position, reach for the box with pills and drink two capsules at once. She did this until recently, but after the pills the next day turned into a blurry gray haze. In her position, it is too expensive to spend even a day on an amorphous existence. Holding her breath, Olesya waited out another attack of pain and again tried to concentrate on meditation. Not immediately, but she managed to collect the “smoke” scattered throughout her body into the necessary “clump.” That's it, it's already good, but now push it out of the body, exhale every drop, even if it takes another hour. If only Yaroslav would not come again and disturb her, otherwise all efforts would be in vain. Olesya inhaled and exhaled as carefully as if she was walking along a narrow swaying bridge with low ropes and railings over an abyss. Inhale and exhale - one more step forward, towards the shore, where the grass is green and the sun is shining. Inhale-exhale...

How strange it is that this dream, which she has had since childhood, always ends in the same place - near the door painted brown. How many times has Olesya tried to set herself up before going to bed so that she could finally look behind that mysterious door, she even read special techniques for inducing conscious dreams, but the only thing she managed to do was find herself again in an already familiar dream and wake up from touching door handle. And she needs to see, now - more than ever - what is next! Maybe death awaits her behind this door, so her subconscious doesn’t let her in?

Inhale and exhale... The last clot of pain left her body like a splinter, and Olesya, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a palm heavy and unruly from fatigue, smiled faintly. Happened. Now the pain will not return for another day or two. The girl automatically rubbed her right palm, on which the scar in the form of a staple still slightly itched, and wiggled her toes under the blanket: how nice it was to feel that her body was obeying her, and not pain. That it generally obeys her. Olesya took her mobile phone from the bedside table and looked at the clock: almost four. And then, glancing at the closed door, as if wanting to make sure that no one was spying on her, she went online from her phone and typed in a familiar address. A slight sigh of disappointment escaped from her chest when she was convinced that there were no messages. She had been waiting for an answer for two days and, apparently, in vain. Then she entered the forum and read all the latest posts, not so much interested in their content, but wanting to find out if the person she needed to talk to had left a comment. The last time he was on the site was yesterday, which means he couldn’t help but see her message. For some reason, it seemed to her that he would immediately become interested in the topic, but, however, it turned out that he would not. Olesya sighed and left the Internet. Returning the phone to the nightstand, she quietly pulled out the drawer and took the “general” notebook lying on top of the packages of medicines, whose greasy cardboard covers she inserted into a leatherette cover for safekeeping. Once upon a time she carefully hid this notebook - her diary - but now, on the contrary, she kept it at hand, hoping to use it to restore the forgotten details.

“...Today for breakfast again there was semolina porridge with lumps. I hate it! But they gave me a bun instead of a sandwich with butter. Petrov pushed me again. Ira S. says that he likes me. What a fool!..” – Olesya read the first paragraph of the open page at random. Until now, even though sixteen years had passed, she remembered Petrov and that slimy, lumpy porridge that was difficult to swallow: her throat, protesting against the hated dish, seemed to shrink, and the porridge climbed back. Olesya remembered how she held it in her mouth for a long time before swallowing it, and tears welled up in her eyes from disgust. But Petrov, on the contrary, rolled the official lumpy semolina into both cheeks, tight and rosy, like apples. In general, he loved to eat, he ate everything that was given, and also begged for more. And if he didn’t receive it, he begged other children for the uneaten food. Olesya would gladly give him her portion if the teacher did not strictly monitor this.

The girl turned the page and read the next entry, about swimming in the local river. She kept this diary throughout the month of her life in the sanatorium, recording any more or less minor events in it. Then she, an eleven-year-old girl, of course, did not know that sixteen years later this diary would become one of the opportunities for her to unravel a strange event, about which not a word was mentioned in the notebook, but which moved a stone lying on the top of the mountain. And, most importantly, understand its connection with her future.

Marina woke up unpleasant feeling as if something cold had been applied to the cheek.

“Leshk, stop it,” the girl muttered angrily without opening her eyes. But Alexey did not giggle in response and did not respond at all. Marina lightly slapped her cheek, found nothing on it, and only then opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a lady looking at her from the enlarged photograph disapprovingly and even sternly, as if she was condemning Marina for turning away the portrait at night. An unpleasant chill ran down her back from surprise, but Marina tried to calm herself down with the thought that it was Leshka, who had woken up earlier and turned the portrait the right way.

And yet, looking at the lady was somehow unpleasant and awkward, as if she knew some shameful secret about her and was reproaching her with a silent look. The girl quickly looked away and, standing up, called:

Nobody responded.

The mirror hanging over the white earthenware washbasin reflected, without any embellishment, the blue shadows under the eyes and the excessive pallor that Marina usually masked with blush. The girl categorically did not like her own appearance, she turned away from the mirror and unscrewed the tap all the way. In order for hot water to flow, it was necessary to first turn on the gas water heater, but Marina decided not to bother. Besides cold water not only cheered her up, but also “awakened” her with a light blush. The girl wiped her face dry with a towel, applied moisturizer and left it at that: she decided to spend her vacation without makeup. Let your face rest: sunbathe under the soft September sun and breathe oxygen-saturated country air. And, even this year already

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If you don’t get a beautiful sea tan, let a fresh blush play on your cheeks. Marina also didn’t style her bob-cut hair; she simply ran a brush through it. She was lucky that her hair was naturally smooth, thick and heavy, so it held its haircut perfectly. Taking a last look at herself in the mirror, the girl went out into the kitchen, from which came the delicious smell of something fried. The hostess was already busy at the stove, to whom Marina greeted. Aunt Natasha greeted her without stopping the matter. She probably got up at dawn and spent the time before the guests got up at work. On the cutting table, next to the antediluvian stove, there was a deep bowl full of soil-stained cucumbers with droplets of moisture on their pimpled sides. Nearby lay a bunch of dill with large umbrella heads and thick yellowish stems.

“I’ll salt the cucumbers for you,” the aunt explained, catching her gaze.

Alexey, who was already sitting at the table, muttered something approvingly and with a smile patted the bench next to him with his palm, inviting Marina to sit down.

“Here you have it for breakfast,” said Aunt Natalya and took it from the bowl put on the table. linen napkin, under which there was a pile of lush golden pancakes. “I’ll gain ten kilos in a week!” – Marina groaned mentally, but put four pancakes on her plate at once.

- And take sour cream! Local, rural, you definitely don’t have one like this in the capital! They sell some kind of diluted sour product there, not sour cream. And even cut this one with a knife and put it on bread.

Marina helped herself to three good spoons of sour cream from the bowl that was pushed towards her. If you have already begun to “sin,” then sin until the end, with taste and without remorse.

- Aunt Natasha, whose portrait is that hanging in your bedroom? – she asked a little later, when the first portion of pancakes was finished. – Your grandmother?

- No, what a grandma! – the hostess waved her hand. - Not even a relative. Yes, I bought it.

“I wouldn’t hang a portrait of an unknown person in my house,” Marina noted cautiously and involuntarily shuddered, remembering the “adventure” she had experienced that night.

– Well, I wouldn’t say that this is such an unknown person. Well-known in our area,” the hostess noted and finally sat down at the table. But she didn’t have breakfast, she just poured herself a glass of water from a clay jug and took two greedy sips.

– This is a photograph of Daria Sedova, who organized a hospital for the poor. She married General Sedov and soon became a widow. She inherited a house in the capital and a country estate. She did not have time to give birth to children and did not remarry. She consoled herself by helping the poor. Look, the estate was given over to a hospital. We regard her as a saint. Even in the church there is a prayer service for her.

– Is there a hospital in the estate now? – Marina asked.

- No. It's been empty for a long time. There was a sanatorium for children there. But not for long. Then it was closed too. And I bought the portrait at the market. They said that he was still hanging in the hospital. Then, after the revolution, the Bolsheviks appropriated the estate for themselves and plundered a lot, and destroyed the photographs and portraits that were there. They taught history, you understand what times were like. Only this portrait somehow miraculously survived.

- So he’s a real relic in that case! – Marina gasped. - He should go to a museum...

“What kind of thing is it - to the museum,” the aunt winced. “That estate over there is like a museum.” And what? It rots and collapses, and no one cares. Now, if suddenly someone smart and sensible takes care of it, I’ll give this portrait back. Even for free, even though I paid a lot of money for it. I saved everything for a new TV. Well, it’s not a pity! But there is a relic hanging on the wall! Still better than someone collecting dust in someone's attic.

- How far is this estate from here? – Alexey asked.

The aunt replied that it was a forty-minute walk.

“I see,” the man nodded happily, took out his smartphone and loaded Google Maps. - Well, let's see...

-Are you going to go there? – Marina frowned.

- And what? You bored?

“Well, I don’t know...” the girl said hesitantly. However, there is nothing to do in the village; they had already taken all the roads the day before. – Actually, I was going to buy bread.

“It’s already late,” said the aunt, glancing quickly at the cuckoo clock. “Here, in order to get everything done, it’s customary to get up early and finish some things by breakfast.”

- Do you have to get up at five in the morning to get bread? – Marina asked displeasedly. The clock showed only the beginning of nine.

- Not at five, but get ready quickly. I got up and, without breakfast, went straight to the store. Bread is quickly snapped up here.

- So today we are without him.

- Of course! – the hostess grinned and opened the lid of the wooden bread box. “Here he is, my dear, fresh and still hot.” I went myself. Butter for tea?

“Hey, it won’t fit in us anymore,” Alexey groaned. “I ate at least fifteen of your pancakes.” It's better to take sandwiches with you.

- And this is of course! I won't let you go without food. But come back for lunch anyway: I’ll make some chicken soup and make some roast meat.

“We don’t promise, aunt,” Alexei shook his head. – If we go to the estate, it’s forty minutes there, forty minutes back, and even take a walk there... What if we decide to go somewhere else? You better not wait for us at lunchtime.

“But I’ll still make the soup; it’ll go for dinner, if anything.” What should you make sandwiches with? With cheese and cold boiled pork?

- Both with this and that! - Alexey answered cheerfully and asked Marina: - How much do you need to get ready?

- Not at all. I'll just take my jacket.

- Great! Grab a backpack with a camera in the room. In the meantime, I’ll help my aunt here.

There were two roads leading to the old estate. One is from the railway station through a huge forest along a two-kilometer alley, laid out during the time of the first owners of the estate. But the station was located in one of the neighboring villages, to which you had to go by bus. Neither Alexey nor Marina wanted to wait for transport and settled on the second option - to go along the narrow paths along the river and through the field. The man set up a navigator in his smartphone, and they hit the road. They reached the estate only an hour later, even though the navigator initially promised a forty-minute journey: once they lost their way, taking the wrong turn at a fork, and once they sat down in the shade to rest and quench their thirst with cool water from a bottle.

“It wasn’t easy for us,” Marina grumbled the last third of the way, annoyed both at herself and at Alexei. Why couldn't they sit still? We would go to the river and return home. Of course, there’s still nothing to do. But you could just lie on an old cot in the garden and read a book.

Alexey, surprisingly, did not begin to argue with her, although he usually began to argue and prove the opposite. Now he was simply silent and smiling at his thoughts, looking at the cleared sky and squinting at the rays of the sun peeking through the clouds. He looked completely happy, like a child anticipating an unforgettable adventure. Marina looked at the man - at first with gloomy dissatisfaction, because she did not share his joy. And then - having already admired him, because

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New, unfamiliar features appeared in his face. She had not admired Alexei like this for a long time, furtively, as if stealing short moments of happiness: their relationship lasted five years, and the severity of the first discoveries gave way to habit. Marina already thought that in the face of her companion there were no undiscovered secrets left for her; she often glanced at him absent-mindedly, not fixating on the details, like a passerby walking day after day along a beaten route and not noticing the surrounding situation. But now she was surprised to discover that her companion’s face was not just cute, but beautiful. Alexei seemed so stunningly handsome to her in an already forgotten period, a secret, and this made her fall in love with him in a particularly intense way, when they were not yet a couple. They knew each other from college. Marina entered the first year, and Alexey was already writing his thesis. They met on one of the first days of school: Marina was late for class and got lost in the huge university building, and Alexey took the confused first-year student to the right classroom. Her savior seemed so handsome to her then that Marina dreamed about him throughout the lecture and then secretly looked out during breaks, wanting to meet again and dying from the thought that he would not remember her when they met. I remembered. But the relationship began towards the end school year, when Alexey finally made a choice in favor of Marina and broke up with his regular girlfriend. Over these five years, they have experienced the entire scale of weather conditions - from warm sunny days with a promising light breeze to storm warnings, from hurricane, all-destroying gusts to complete calmness in which relationships are devoid of fresh air, froze. Marina was impulsive and touchy. Alexey is stubborn and impatient. He quickly grew tired of her capricious nature. She quickly got tired of being without him and called first, forgetting about pride. Sometimes it seemed to her that he did not love her at all. Sometimes - what she doesn’t like. But most often - that they are created for each other, like two gears in a clock mechanism. Alexey agreed with her, but joked that it was from different hours. So these two gears from two different mechanisms grind in, erasing the sharp teeth, or even breaking them altogether. And when Marina had already decided that their relationship had really reached a dead end and would never get the development she wanted, Alexey suddenly proposed to her. Marina remembered now unusual day, which began quite normally, smiled and again stole a glance at her companion. The wrinkle between the eyebrows, which appeared during hours of intense work or during arguments, smoothed out, Blue eyes seemed brighter than the sky divided into segments by the sun's rays and clouds. Gold-rimmed glasses slid down the tip of his thin nose, his hair was disheveled, and there was a slight smile on his lips... He now looked like an absent-minded, charming scientist on a team of adventurers.

- Are you okay? – the man suddenly asked.

- Yes. And what? – the girl was surprised.

– You fell silent. Before this she was muttering all the way and suddenly went quiet.

- So when I grumble, it means I’m fine, but if I’m silent, then I’m not? – she said sarcastically.

Alexey, as if wanting to tease her, shrugged his shoulders:

- Well, grumbling is your normal state.

- Oh, that's how... - From the glimpses Have a good mood not a trace remained. The soul was again covered in thunderclouds with lightning flashing menacingly through them. And Alexey suddenly raised his camera like a gun and took several pictures of the girl.

- Stop doing that!

- Look, look! “He turned the camera window towards her.

- I won’t!

- And, in my opinion, you turned out great!

- Angry and disheveled!

– When you’re angry, you’re also beautiful. Although when you smile, you are more beautiful.

- Leave me alone! – Marina muttered, but still, unable to contain her curiosity, she looked out the window. So what did Alexey see as beautiful in her? Disheveled! However, it turns out that her hair, tousled by the wind, suited her very well. Only all the attractiveness was spoiled by frowning eyebrows and displeasedly pursed lips. Marina touched the space between her eyebrows with her finger, as if fearing that an ugly wrinkle would settle there forever.

- Eat by yourself, I don’t want to.

– But won’t you refuse some tea?

- I won’t refuse.

Aunt Natalya’s tea is like an elixir, giving not only strength, but also charging you with a special autumn mood. Not dreary, like the gray sky swollen with rain, but different: with a note of nostalgia, dissolved in the joy that has not yet faded with the passing of summer, with a slight bitterness of fire smoke, with the sweetness and aroma of linden honey. After a short rest, they set off again and soon came to a large area overgrown with wild grass, at the end of which could be seen a two-story building resembling a butterfly - two wings and a majestic rotunda between them.

– This is not the front entrance, but a view from the back. There used to be a park here,” explained Alexey, who had already read a little about the estate on the Internet while he was looking for the way. – An alley leading from the railway station leads to the main entrance.

– Will it be possible to go inside? – Marina became interested and clicked on the estate from a distance on her mobile phone.

“I don’t know,” Alexey scratched the back of his head. – Maybe yes, maybe not. While you were going to get your things, Aunt Natalya said that the estate used to be guarded. They protected it from vandals and those who wanted to tear it apart into bricks. You could ask the guards to go inside, and they would allow it. I don’t know how things are now. We'll find our bearings on the spot.

The young man took several pictures with his camera - just a view of the estate and Marina against the background of a white building.

- Yes you are right. Somehow we spontaneously decided to take a walk here, without preparing.

They walked through a former park overgrown with wild grass, in which it was no longer possible to distinguish any flower beds, lawns, or paths. We stopped a couple of times to take pictures of the stone pavilions left over from the time of the first owners, and to look from the observation deck at the river winding like a silver ribbon below. Marina noticed that there was a missing figure on one of the posts of the fence, looked down and saw fragments of a bust whitening on a stone ledge. What a pity! After all, these sculptures were probably created by some famous sculptor, and the owners proudly showed them to their guests. Imagination depicted a similar autumn day, but only from a different era: elegant gentlemen and ladies with lace umbrellas crowd on this platform, looking at the river through monocles and discussing the latest social gossip. Bird singing mixes with the rustling of hemlines fashionable dresses, the crystalline laughter of sophisticated ladies and the clinking of glasses of champagne. And now more than a hundred years have passed. Those ladies and gentlemen have long been dead, and the holiday atmosphere died with them too. And now standing on this once elegant platform is the ordinary girl Marina in faded jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt, and is sad about something incomprehensible that has sunk into the past, as if she herself was once one of those society young ladies, and now she has returned later

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century no longer to his home, but to its ruins.

- Go ahead? – Alexey touched her elbow. The girl nodded and looked at the stone “terraces” and the river for the last time. The sudden feeling that this view was already familiar to her made her suddenly dizzy. She grabbed the railing with her hand and closed her eyes.

- Are you okay? – the man was alarmed.

- My head started spinning.

- From the height. Don't look down anymore. Do you want to sit down and wait until the dizziness passes?

From a distance, the dilapidation of the building was not so noticeable, but as soon as you got closer to it, all the flaws caused by lack of maintenance were mercilessly exposed. It became clear that the white paint was coming off the stone in layers and resembled scales, and in some places it had completely flown off, exposing the stone. And these dark spots on white they looked like caries to Marina. The elongated narrow windows of the “wings” were missing glass in some places, and ordinary plywood was inserted into the frames. The paint had long since peeled off the thin fence built in front of the rotunda with a domed roof, and one section of it had been broken off. The high arched door was disfigured by two wide boards, nailed crosswise, protecting the entrance from those who wanted to get inside.

“What a pity that such a wonderful building is doomed to die without maintenance,” Marina sighed.

- Money, all money. They ran out or were not allocated from the budget - and that’s it, they doomed the estate to death. It seems to me that even the volunteers stopped caring for her. Maybe they were convinced that the money would not be allocated. Here to restore and restore! Everything from the building to the park. Moreover, there is probably not just one building, but several. There are all sorts of outbuildings, staff outbuildings and gazebos.

- Aunt Natalya said that there was once a sanatorium here...

– Yeah, for children with some problems. We need to look for information on the Internet, I think we can find something.

They walked around the building and came out to the front entrance. And again Marina experienced a strange feeling of recognition, this time when she found herself on the alley leading to the entrance. It suddenly seemed to her that she had already walked this road, enclosed in the banks of the forests. Only then the asphalt was without cracks and potholes, but smooth, as if it had recently been laid.

“Look, there’s even a fountain,” she heard Alexei’s voice, breaking the web of her obsession.

The man was already standing, legs spread wide for balance, on the cracked parapet and looking around the pool covered with garbage and dry leaves. Marina approached the fountain, and for a moment it suddenly seemed to her that in the center of the fountain there was a statue of a girl playing a harp, from which flowed water jets shimmering in the sun. And after this the thought arose that the fountain was working properly then. The picture appeared in my memory for a moment and then disappeared, as if someone had changed the slide.

“There was a girl here playing the harp,” she blurted out before she had time to comprehend what had been said. Alexey looked back at her in surprise, causing him to lose his balance and hastily jump, not over the parapet, but inside the pool.

- What a Girl? – he asked, standing in the middle of the garbage. Marina, without answering, shook her head. She felt a chill, as if a cold wind had blown from somewhere. She involuntarily shivered and put her palms under her arms, hugging herself with her arms. And only then did I realize: what was she thinking about? Who's the girl with the harp? This is her first time in these places. My imagination just ran wild, as happened on the observation deck.

“No,” she snapped, because Alexei was waiting for an answer. “I just thought there should be some kind of figure in the center.” Why not girls with harps?

“It’s acceptable,” the man agreed absentmindedly and climbed out.

“I wish I could get inside,” he whispered, looking with interest at the façade with its broken windows. Marina didn’t answer, she just followed Alexei to the front door.

- No, this estate definitely needs to be restored. Do you know what I came up with? I will post photos on the Internet and describe this place in detail, add some of the stories that I can find. And I will try to attract public attention.

His pale face was flushed, either from the sun or from excitement, and his glasses had slid down to the tip of his nose.

– Good idea“, - the girl agreed.

The man nodded, adjusted his glasses and pointed the camera at the cornice, wanting to capture the stucco, and then took a photo of the corner with the peeling paint.

“Let’s go,” he nodded towards the door. - Let's try to get in.

“This could be dangerous,” Marina doubted. - What if the stairs collapsed there?

- And we are careful. This is interesting!

– Lesh, you know... I have a feeling that it’s better not to go there.

– Are you afraid of ghosts? – he chuckled. - Yes, they are not there! Definitely not here. Especially in daylight - what ghosts?

- I'm not talking about ghosts. “I have a strange feeling that I… have already been here,” Marina admitted with a pitiful smile. - Although this is not true. It can't be like that. But for some reason this alley and observation deck are familiar to me. Just like the fountain.

- So maybe you really were here? – Alexey raised his eyebrows in surprise.

- I am not sure. You say there was a sanatorium for children with problems? So, I didn’t go to the sanatorium because I was healthy child. To a pioneer camp - yes.

– Maybe there was a pioneer camp here?

“I don’t think so,” Marina said with unexpected confidence. And hastily corrected herself: “I don’t know.” But I remember all those pioneer camps I was in well.

– Or maybe you just saw a similar landscape somewhere? Well, there’s an alley there, a playground, just in a different place, but did this estate remind you of that?

“Maybe,” the girl answered, already regretting her sudden confession.

– But to be sure, you need to look inside! Then you’ll tell me whether you were here or not,” Alexey summed up cheerfully.

However, to his great chagrin and Marina’s quiet joy, they were unable to get inside: the door was so tightly boarded up that Alexei was unable to open it. The windows on the first floor were covered with plywood; of course, they did not break it out. And there was nothing left to do but circle around the main building and take more pictures. While Alexey was pointing the camera at the next stucco molding, Marina looked with a bored look at the windows of the second floor - those in which glass was still visible. She was already tired of the estate, she wanted to go home - lie on the ottoman and read a detective story. She tried not to think about the fact that it would take an hour to walk home.

-Are you coming soon? – she asked impatiently, seeing that Alexey was again removing the terrace on the wide canopy above the main entrance.

“Now, now...” he muttered absentmindedly, trying on for a new shot.

Marina did not have time to get angry, because at that moment in the window to which she mechanically turned her gaze, someone’s face suddenly appeared - white as stucco, with distorted, as if blurred, features and with sparse hair sticking up in different directions. almost bare skull. Numb and numb with horror, the girl looked at this face, unable to take her eyes off it, and it stared at her with hollow eyes in which bottomless darkness swirled. And he didn’t just look at the girl, but as if

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peered into her soul, chilling her with his gaze and turning her hot blood into ice crystals. Marina couldn’t say how long this lasted—maybe just a split second, or maybe an eternity. The numbness left her as suddenly as it had come, and Marina screamed - from horror and unexpected pain piercing her body. The pain was as if sharp-angled ice crystals, into which her blood seemed to have turned, were ripped open from the inside of the veins and arteries.

-What are you doing?! - Alexei jumped in fear and rushed to her, pointing to the window on the second floor with a shaking hand. Unfortunately, he hesitated for only a couple of moments, not immediately understanding what they wanted from him, but this time was enough for his face to disappear into the darkness of the building. When the man looked up, there was no one in the window.

- Let's get out of here! Immediately!

Marina suddenly jumped up and, without looking back, ran away from the estate. Alexei caught up with her near a gazebo and stopped her, sharply placing his hand on her shoulder.

- What's happened?

-Have you not seen it?!

- And thank God I didn’t see it! I thought my insides would burst from fear. And they almost exploded. It hurt – for real! “Alexey didn’t understand anything from her chaotic explanations, but Marina stood in front of him with a face pale from the horror she had experienced and rubbed, as if they really hurt, first one hand and then the other.

- Would you like some tea? There’s a little left,” the man suggested, noticing that she shrugged her shoulders as if from the cold.

- Want. But not here. I told you I don’t like it here!

- So what scared you?

- Face. There was a face in the window. Someone was looking at us from the building. Or rather, at me.

– There can’t be anyone there, Marina. You saw that the building was firmly closed.

– And yet there was someone there!

Alexey only pursed his lips skeptically.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” If you had seen this face, you wouldn’t have made such a face!

- Okay, let’s say... Let’s say there was someone there, even though it’s impossible! Okay, okay, maybe... But not a ghost. It could have been some homeless person who somehow got into the estate. Maybe he lives there. And he can’t get out. Or, conversely, he knows a loophole that we haven’t found.

- And it’s good that they didn’t find it! - Marina burst out. But the assumption that a homeless man had entered the estate calmed her down a little.

Olesya woke up as usual, at half past eight. Yaroslav has already left. Yesterday at dinner he spoke enthusiastically about the filming planned for this morning outside the city in an abandoned factory. Olesya understood his passion, but she did not share his enthusiasm: she was surprised that someone liked to pose in workshops that had fallen asleep forever among bare brick walls, construction debris and rusty equipment. She didn’t like surrounding herself with “dead” things; she didn’t even like cut flowers. I never stored empty jars, bottles, boxes and immediately threw away the cup if a chip appeared on it. Yaroslav often made fun of her for this “fad” of getting rid of things that had lost their presentable appearance, and sometimes he got angry when his washed but favorite T-shirt went into the trash bag. But Olesya remained adamant: any object has a limited validity period, they accumulate the energy of the owner and exchange it with him. When cracks, holes and chips appear, it means the item has served its purpose. Yaroslav, on the contrary, had a special passion for the old and broken: a whole collection of non-working cameras, radios and watches from the last century was kept in the garage. And recently he brought from somewhere two thick, dusty albums with yellowed photographs of others and hid them in his room, justifying the purchase with the desire to do photo shoots in the old style. So is it any wonder that he went to film in an abandoned factory with such delight? However, his departure today was only to Olesya’s benefit.

It was too early to call the archive, so the morning began, as usual, with therapeutic exercises, a cool shower and a leisurely breakfast of toasted toast in butter and fragrant sweet tea. Mom once prepared croutons for breakfast, and the aroma of bread toasted in a frying pan each time brought Olesya back to those times when their apartment was full of voices, joyful, a little cramped, but very happy. Continuing the tradition, the girl always had breakfast in the kitchen, although often alone, because Yaroslav lived at his own pace and often preferred to eat right at his computer while working.

Having finished breakfast, Olesya looked at her watch and took her mobile phone. They didn't answer the phone for a long time. But finally, a dissatisfied and dry “Hello!” was heard at the other end of the line. Most likely, the employee had just arrived at work, managed to put the kettle on and throw a tea bag into the cup, but she was immediately distracted by a work call. However, despite the irritated greeting, the woman patiently answered the questions, explained how to fill out the request and to what address to send it. Olesya brought her laptop into the kitchen and, without putting things off, composed a letter. To the request for historical information and the first owners of the estate, she added questions relating to the period when a sanatorium for children with musculoskeletal problems was opened on the estate. Having sent the e-mail, the girl poured herself another cup of tea and sat down at the table again. There were no new messages; the person from whom she expected an answer did not appear on the forum. Olesya sighed and opened the search engine page. I had to compile the history myself, looking for short mentions of the desired place, “sifting”, like sand in search of golden grains, information on hundreds of pages, carefully scrutinizing the details of each photograph thrown out at the request of a search engine - this one or not that one. Unwinding this ball was not easy: the threads were most often fragmentary and short. There was too little information about the place she was interested in even on the Internet, only general information, without the details Olesya needs. We could only hope for an answer from the archives.

These days, she thought so much about what could have happened in the estate at the beginning of the last century that she involuntarily began to visualize images and faces and think through those moments that she was missing so much. She always had a vivid imagination, Olesya even began to fear that, having become carried away and believing in “her” story, she would move away from the facts and follow the wrong path. And yet I could not avoid the temptation to record in a separate file what my imagination drew. Based, of course, on the facts. And so she came out with her own story, filled with details.

1912 Solovyevo Estate

- Father, did you call?

Daria timidly crossed the threshold of the darkened room and froze, waiting for an answer. The bedroom once again seemed alien to her because of the drawn heavy curtains that did not let in sunlight, and the heavy smell of illness - potions, sweat, stale linen.

- Yes. Come in, daughter,” the patient answered her in a dry and lifeless voice, like the crackling of branches. But first, Daria heard how the springs creaked under the weight of his body, how either a groan or a wheeze escaped from his chest, which turned into a short cough. And the girl involuntarily comes to mind

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a comparison came with the old grandfather clock that once stood in the dining room: that one, too, before striking the right hour, creaked with springs, wheezed, then discharged abrupt sounds, like coughing, which were finally replaced by a fight. The watch, hopelessly broken, had long been taken away somewhere, and Daria did not know its fate. But I remembered that before it finally stopped, the clock seemed to go crazy: the hands were spinning at a frantic pace, wheezing and groaning, interspersed with striking, were heard every quarter of an hour. And then the clock shuddered several times, as if in agony, vibrated its entire body in an attempt to break out into battle, but only quietly creaked and fell silent forever.

Daria approached the bed, darkening in the twilight, reminiscent of the skeleton of a small sailing boat, only with a broken mast and a retracted sail. She would give a lot for her father to get out of bed again, walk around the house with a familiar firm step, creaking floorboards, for the rustling of a fresh newspaper in his hands during morning tea. The one who was lying on the bed did not at all resemble her strong and robust parent. The outline of the body emerging under the crumpled blanket belonged to a withered old man, but not to a man, even if he was already on the threshold of aging, but had not yet entered its active phase. Daria silently pulled the chair that stood against the wall towards the bed and sat down on the edge, humbly folding her hands on her knees. The father became so weak that he could only slightly turn his head towards her.

“Daughter, listen... I don’t have much time left...” he began and started coughing again. A white hand, as if stained with flour, darted to his throat, but halfway there it fell powerlessly back onto the bed.

“A handkerchief... Give me a handkerchief,” a hoarse sound broke through the cough. Daria hastily brought a snow-white handkerchief snatched from her pocket to her father’s lips. After the attack ended, the girl gently wiped the patient’s lips with a clean corner that was not stained with bloody spots, and then soaked a towel in a silver basin that stood on a small table by the window and placed it on her father’s burning forehead.

- Thank you, honey... Listen to me. I won’t live until the morning... I’m afraid to leave you alone. I feel like troubled times are coming.

“Don’t interrupt,” the dying man asked, and in his weak voice the familiar firm notes with which in old times he gave instructions to the servants and the coachman appeared. - I won’t leave you alone. Andrei Alekseich will take care of you... He promised me. And you promise...

The patient fell silent, as if in awkwardness, and Dasha went cold at the guessed, albeit not spoken out loud, ending of the phrase. Andrei Alekseevich Sedov was a friend of his father, although they had been friends for a relatively short time. Daria knew about him that he was a widower; his first wife, Olga Vladimirovna Pustovetskaya, died a year after the wedding. The general was not poor. He had two estates at his disposal, both located in neighboring regions. But Sedov preferred to live in St. Petersburg. “I’m not a villager, and on duty I have to be in the capital,” he once said at the table during lunch, while visiting them. IN Lately the general became a frequent visitor to the village and made sure to pay a visit on every visit. He always came with gifts and gifts: he brought flowers and sweets to Daria, books to his father. He often sent fresh game. My father didn’t respect hunting, but Sedov did. Once he even brought as a gift the skin of a bear he had killed. Dasha was not happy about the gift, but her father, so as not to offend his dear guest, ordered the skin to be laid out in his office near the small fireplace. With each visit, the general began to stay longer and longer in their house. And dad, to Dasha’s displeasure, began to behave as if he had entered into an agreement with him and on each visit, under one pretext or another, he briefly left his daughter alone with the guest. The girl was angry with herself at her father, guessing that he was planning a matchmaking, but she did not publicly show any dissatisfaction in front of Andrei Alekseevich; on the contrary, she tried to be kind to him. She was already nineteen, she was not a beauty, and she had no illusions that a handsome young man from a noble family would woo her. The general was not yet old, younger than his father, still attractive in appearance, smart and wealthy. That is, he could make a good match for her, and Daria understood this. But there was something about him that alarmed and frightened her. Some kind of wild, carefully hidden temper, bordering on cruelty. Every time Andrei Alekseich spoke to her, Dasha remembered the skin of a killed bear and involuntarily drew an unpleasant picture: here is the general, proudly showing off, standing next to the defeated animal, placing his foot in a boot on its head, or even participating in cutting up the carcass. She, who was naturally kind-hearted and compassionate towards any living creature, was horrified by such pictures. One day the general even asked Dasha if she felt ill. The girl muttered some excuse and asked the concerned guest to bring her some water.

Sedov visited his father twice during his illness. The first time he didn’t stay long so as not to tire the patient, but then he sent his doctor, even though the father was already being treated by the family doctor. The general's doctor examined the patient for a long time, shook his head disapprovingly and prescribed additional medicines.

Sedov visited the patient for the second time yesterday and this time he was delayed. She and her father talked about something for a very long time behind closed bedroom doors, so that Daria began to worry whether the patient was too tired. When her anxiety reached its climax, the door opened, but the guest only conveyed to her her father’s request to bring from the office a large box in which important papers were kept. And after Daria fulfilled her wish, the owner and guest retired for another half hour.

And today her father told her what he had talked about with the guest the day before. Dasha guessed right: it was about her and her future. General Sedov asked for her hand in marriage, and her father agreed to the marriage.

- Promise me, honey... This will make me much calmer. Your mother, may she rest in heaven, left us early, and I swore then that I would do everything possible for your happiness. Sorry, honey, maybe I did something wrong, but I tried...

- What are you talking about, daddy! – Daria exclaimed, trying not to cry. – Who else was as happy as me?

- Andrei Alekseeich promised me that with him you will not know either grief or need.

Oh, if only my father knew at that moment! If he knew what he was dooming his beloved daughter to, on his deathbed he asked her for a promise to marry General Sedov. But he died quietly at dawn, in his sleep, reassured by the fact that he had left his daughter’s fate in good hands.

After the end of mourning, Daria restrained given to father word and married Andrei Alekseevich Sedov. The wedding was modest, but as a gift, the newly-made husband transferred the estate to his wife, renaming it “Daryino”. Maybe Daria would have been happy in her new life if it weren’t for the terrible discovery made after the wedding, when she learned that her husband’s soul was stained with indelible sin.

On the way back, Marina almost ran, so that Alexei could barely keep up with her. She looked back at him

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Only once did I guess from his frowning eyebrows that he was extremely irritated. But, stubbornly biting her lips, she quickly walked forward, often not even along the path, but straight through the thick and tall grass, devoid of summer juiciness and therefore prickly and hard.

- Marina, just wait! - Alexey called out to her when she, wanting to take a shortcut, turned into the field. The girl stopped and looked back at him defiantly, preparing to repel the attacks.

- Well, why did you run away like that? We are already far from this estate, damn it. You rush as if a hundred thousand devils are chasing you! What are you?

Marina clenched her jaw even more tightly, because she didn’t know how to explain to herself why the instinct of self-preservation, which suddenly rang all the bells, forced her to rush away from this place so quickly, as if it promised her death.

“I was scared,” she finally said and shivered as if from a chill.

Alexey threw his windbreaker over her shoulders.

– I see that I was scared, but not to the same extent! We found an explanation. It was a homeless person or one of those who guard the estate.

“She’s not being guarded,” Marina answered dully, for some reason confident of this. The estate does not need human protection. No one will enter it of their own free will, and the problem is not at all with the boarded-up entrances and windows, but with something else. She thought about it so naturally, as if she knew much more about the old estate than she thought.

“Well, well,” was all Alexey said. It was clear from his eyes, hidden behind the transparent lenses of his glasses, that he did not take Marina’s words seriously. She hastily turned away so as not to meet the man’s gaze again, in which she read disbelief destructive for their relationship.

- It’s not far from the village. It makes no sense to go through the field. We'll save about fifteen minutes, no more. “Let’s follow the road as we were going,” he said conciliatoryly, and the girl reluctantly agreed.

The aunt met them in the yard. She held an empty enamel basin under her arm, holding it with one hand. She put her other palm to her eyebrows and, like a captain on the bridge examining the approaching land, looked out for the guests. The white sheets hanging on ropes and fluttering in the wind also gave it a resemblance to a sailboat.

- You returned early! – Aunt Natalya commented as soon as the gate slammed behind those entering. However, in her voice there was not annoyance, but poorly hidden notes of joy, as if she had become bored without company. From the half-open door of the house came tempting smells, which, despite the shocks they had experienced, whetted the appetite.

- The soup is almost ready.

– It’s still early for dinner, auntie! – Alexey objected, to the girl’s displeasure.

- Yes, while you are washing and changing clothes, the time will come. The soup still needs to brew.

Marina silently walked through the doorway and found herself in the cool darkness of a small hallway. And only now, as if Aunt Natalya’s wooden house was a thick-walled stone fortress, did she feel safe. She took a breath of relief, not even finding the strength to laugh at her own recent fears, and quickly, before the hostess got to her with questions, she slipped into the bathroom.

She splashed cold water on her face for a long time and rubbed her eyes, as if wanting to wash away the memories of the white face she saw in the window. The skin was already numb from the cold, but she continued to bring her folded palms to her cheeks with water seeping through her fingers. And only when Alexey, worried about her long absence, began to bang on the bathroom door, did she turn on the tap and reach for a hard waffle towel.

- Are you okay? – she heard through the door.

All right, except for the fact that in the mirror, suddenly, instead of her flushed face, for a split second there appeared that pale and terrible one that she had so carefully tried to wash away from her memories. Marina shuddered in surprise, but the vision had already disappeared, as if it had not existed. The girl hung the towel on the hook and, leaving the bathroom, cautiously glanced sideways at the mirror again. No, everything is okay. It seemed.

At dinner, the unsmiling Aunt Natalya asked about the walk, but as if she was only interested out of politeness. Alexey answered, but did not mention the strange incident. Marina ate the soup in silence, lost in her thoughts. She was no longer sure that the place where they had visited in the morning was so unfamiliar to her. Maybe ask Aunt Natalya about the estate? After all, a local resident should know a lot. By the end of lunch, this timid thought grew into a firm decision. And when Alexey, having finished his tea, said that he would go to rest, Marina did not go after him, but offered her help to the hostess.

“Well, help me,” the aunt agreed, hiding a satisfied smile.

Alexey looked around in surprise: at home, Marina never washed dishes, even just cups, so as not to ruin her manicure. And here you go!

“Go, go,” his aunt waved a towel at him, noticing his hesitation. - We can handle this ourselves. “And suddenly she became generous with the compliment: “Your girl is good.”

From these simple words Marina’s soul felt warmer, and the fear that had hitherto shackled her soul suddenly broke, like an ice cube that had slipped out of her hands, and crumbled into crumbs. The girl collected the dishes from the table, put them in the sink and turned on the water. And before her resolve left her, she immediately asked:

- Aunt Natasha, is it possible to get inside the estate?

- Eh? - woke up as if from a dream, elderly woman and straightened up, holding her palm in front of her like a “bucket”, into which she collected the crumbs from the table. – Are you asking about the former sanatorium?

- Do not know what to say. It has been empty for a long time. Fifteen years, or even more. I don't go there. You were there today, so you know better whether it’s possible to get inside.

Marina nodded silently, feeling disappointed: her aunt answered in such a way that continuation of the conversation was not implied. But, when the girl had already decided that further questions were useless, the hostess suddenly said:

– There was some incident there, after which the sanatorium was closed. Either one of the children died, or almost died. I don't know the details. They seemed to have sorted everything out quickly, but so secretly that the curious could only guess why the sanatorium was closed. And I'm not curious. Why should I know what happened there? Some things were put up for sale. They were sorted out quickly. Why can’t you make out if they are good? I might have bought something too, if I hadn’t come down with radiculitis at that time.

The aunt pursed her lips sadly, as if regretting that she had not been at the sale of things. Marina has already noticed that the hostess has a weakness for all sorts of old things. In her house there was an old gramophone, carefully covered with a snow-white knitted napkin, and a record player that had not been working for a long time, looking like a chest of drawers on high legs, and a heavy cast-iron iron, which, perhaps, had still seen the times of the Tsar Father, and they used it to steam the lace on the hem and ribbons for some fashionista from the century before last. There were many other smaller objects placed on all kinds of surfaces, from shelves to window sills: porcelain figurines, painted clay whistles in the shape of nightingales, boxes, clocks, etc. And Aunt Natalya was not too lazy to wipe all these trinkets every day

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- In general, I didn’t get to the sale. But recently I came across a portrait at the market. Those who kept it went to the city, registered the house in the name of one of the relatives, and sold the things. How could I resist! I bought it, of course. It's an ancient thing, genuine. The former owners looked after the portrait poorly and did not take care of it at all. Maybe it was collecting dust somewhere in the attic. I had to take it to a photo studio to get it in order. Still that money. But am I sorry? The main thing is that I will have it safe and sound.

The aunt grumbled for a long time about how unkempt the portrait was to her and how much money she spent on restoring it. Marina listened with half an ear, thinking about the words Natalya said about the incident after which the sanatorium was closed. I would like to find out what really happened there!

“It’s a pity that the estate is abandoned,” she sighed and turned off the tap. “Won’t anyone really take care of it?”

- The administration has no money. And sponsors are in no hurry to invest. Maybe if one of the rich people bought it? Then it would be a different matter. And even that is dangerous: they will buy it for a dacha and disfigure it, leaving no stone unturned of its former beauty.

– Lesha said that he wants to post photographs of the estate on the Internet, what if he manages to attract attention to it?

“Well, it’s a good thing,” said Aunt Natalya, but somehow without the enthusiasm Marina expected. She is still a strange woman, she lives as a recluse, she spends her whole life poking around in the soil, she is a poorly educated peasant woman, but nevertheless she loves antique things, they are like a family to her. But at the same time, she reacted without a twinkle to Alexei’s desire to prevent the estate from dying.

- All? – the hostess looked around the kitchen with a tenacious glance. - Wipe the sink dry with a rag and go. I don't need you anymore.

Marina was even a little offended: instead of gratitude, she was sent home. But she didn’t argue; she silently wiped the sink, as she was told, and carefully spread the rag over the edge to dry.

“Thank you,” the aunt was generous with her stingy gratitude. - Go have a rest. I'll call you for tea.

It seems that Aunt Natalya's main concern was that her guests would not go hungry.

When Marina entered the room, she saw Alexey lying on the bed and reading something with interest on his smartphone.

– Got along with my aunt? – he asked, without taking his eyes off the monitor. The girl sat down on the edge of the bed and, pulling her legs up, hugged her knees with her hands.

– And here I am reading about the estate. Interesting! “The young man finally looked at her and adjusted his glasses with his finger, which had slipped onto the tip of his nose. - It will surprise you!

- And what is it? “she asked in an act of indifference, although for some reason her heart began to beat and a wave of heat ran down her back.

– First, a little history. Listen! The completion of construction of the estate dates back to 1906. It was built as wedding gift the young wife of General Sedov Olga.

– How – Olga? Your aunt said that Daria was the mistress of the estate. Or I'm wrong?

“Wait,” Alexey smiled and adjusted his glasses again. - Do not interrupt. A picturesque place was chosen for the future estate on a high bank, with a view of the river. The design was entrusted to one of the capital's fashionable architects, Zarubin, and the Italians took care of the finishing. Their last name is not indicated. Everything was done in accordance with the tastes of the general’s future wife. As a result, the decoration was amazing with many paintings, sculptures, antiques, gold and bronze.

– Where did all this go then? – Marina said thoughtfully.

“Well, where, where...” Alexey made a vague gesture with his hand. - Robbed, I think. The estate had to go through more than one troubled time; after the revolution it was nationalized. But don't rush me. Listen in order... The estate was built in record time short time and, in addition to the main building, there were about forty more buildings: various services, a water pumping station, and a power station. To our time, not even half of them have survived, unfortunately. To please the future owner, a huge park and several greenhouses were laid out. After the wedding, the young couple settled in the estate.

– Did the wedding take place on this estate? – Marina clarified, thinking about the social holiday she had seen on the observation deck.

- Nothing is said about this. But, unfortunately, the estate was never destined to become the local Versailles: less than a year after the wedding, the general was widowed. The cause of Olga's death is not specified.

“That’s how it is...” Marina drawled and thought that most likely the young woman was struck down by a disease like consumption.

- So from 1907 the estate was empty until the general married again, this time to Daria, née Solovyova. And again the estate was presented as a gift, and the estate itself was renamed “Daryino”. The second wife led a secluded life, lived alone on the estate, and did not organize holidays. But this marriage did not last long: this time the general himself had already died in the First world war. Daria gave the estate to a military hospital, in which she herself worked tirelessly, for which she found people's love. After the war, a sanatorium for children with bone tuberculosis was organized on the site of the infirmary...

– So this estate was a sanatorium before? – asked Marina. Alexey nodded:

- That's what it says in Wikipedia. And during World War II it was again converted into a hospital. Then the estate was damaged during one of the bombings. Many buildings were destroyed and it was not possible to restore them, only later, after the war, the main building. Then the estate happened to be visited intermittently and health school, and a dacha where children from a nearby orphanage were taken for the summer.

- What about Daria?

“You know, for some reason it seems to me that this Daria Sedova was not such a saint as she is portrayed here,” said Marina. – I don’t like her portrait. For some reason it's scary. Maybe you can ask your aunt to take it off? Well, while we are visiting here...

“Marin, don’t start,” Alexey winced. - Since we arrived here, you always either don’t like something or are scared. Did the portrait bother you? It hangs and hangs.

- You do not understand!

- Of course, I don’t understand. How could an ordinary photograph scare you so much that you even turned it away at night? Fortunately, my aunt doesn’t know about this.

“He…” Marina began and stopped short. If she retells the events of the night, Alexey will again not believe her and laugh at her. But something came from the woman depicted on it, something bad that only Marina seemed to feel. On the one hand, it seemed to her as if this Daria from the portrait was watching her, on the other hand, she felt some kind of connection with her.

- Are you okay? – Alexey asked, looking at her over his glasses.

“Yes,” Marina answered absentmindedly. – What’s next about this estate?

– From the mid-eighties to the early nineties it was empty. In the late nineties they began its restoration and in ninety-six they opened a sanatorium for children with musculoskeletal problems. But for some reason they closed it two years later, and the building has been empty since then.

- Your aunt said that there

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Some dark story happened, a child almost died. But she doesn't know the details.

“It would be interesting to find out what happened,” Alexey said thoughtfully and, suddenly smiling, said mysteriously:

– Now comes the most interesting part. You know, you were right!

– Remember that fountain in front of the main entrance? – he spoke hastily, lowering his voice, as if he was telling her some secret. – You said that in the center of it there should be a girl with a harp.

- Should not. I just thought so.

- Not just like that! – the man raised his finger meaningfully. – She was actually there! Here look.

And Alexey handed Marina his smartphone, on the monitor of which a photograph of the fountain was open at the time when it was still working. Its central composition was indeed represented by the figure of a girl with a harp, and streams of water around her formed a kind of gazebo.

- Well, how? Do you know this fountain? – the man asked cheerfully, enjoying Marina’s confusion. – And what follows from this? And from this it follows that you really were in these places once.

“Or I saw a photograph somewhere - on the Internet or on a postcard,” Marina objected, but somehow hopelessly, as if giving up. So there was a good reason for her déjà vu. But when and under what circumstances could she visit the estate?

“No, it’s unlikely,” Alexey waved his hand. – But this is great, Marinka! This means, theoretically, we could have crossed paths in childhood. After all, I came to my aunt often.

- Yes, but I didn’t go to the estate.

- So what? You could end up either there or here, in the village. You never know. Don't you remember anything?

Marina shook her head, but again uncertainly. Maybe she was still so young that she didn’t remember the trip itself, but for some reason the fountain was imprinted in her memory?

– I’ll ask my mother, she can tell me what I forgot.

Marina refused to look at the photographs taken in the morning: she had had enough of this estate with its mysteries for today. She was suddenly overcome with such heavy fatigue that it was even difficult for her to breathe. The girl lay down on the bed and curled up. Involuntarily, her gaze met the gaze of Daria Sedova looking at her from the portrait, and a wave of chills ran down her spine. "What do you want from me?" - Marina turned mentally to the lady and, overcoming the fatigue that bound her hands and feet, stood up. Alexey looked up for a moment from the tablet into which he was loading pictures from his phone and making some notes, but said nothing. Marina grabbed a book and went out into the garden, where Aunt Natasha laid a clean blanket on an old cot especially so that the guests could relax in the fresh air.

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Natalia Kalinina

Thin thread of purpose

The lighter, which had always served him well, suddenly balked. The man clicked the wheel in an unsuccessful attempt to strike a fire, but in response only idle clicks were heard, and a spark that did not bring any benefit flashed a couple of times. You would have thought that the lighter had run out of gas, but he had only refilled it a couple of days ago. Maybe this place had that effect on her? After all, during the day all their properly charged equipment, even cell phones, turned off. You can expect anything from this estate. Once again, without any hope, he clicked the wheel and finally struck out a small flame, from which he managed to light a cigarette. “Come on, don’t let me down!” – the man turned mentally to the building, white in the darkness, whose outline was similar to an iceberg that suddenly appeared in front of the bow of a cruise ship: it seemed just as cold, majestic and... deadly. But time passed and nothing happened. Midnight had long passed - the hour for which he had high hopes. Waiting in vain? The man trampled the cigarette butt into the ground with the toe of his rough boot, resolutely threw his backpack behind his back and adjusted the camera strap around his neck. What does he really expect? That the light would flash in the windows, revealing dark silhouettes to his gaze? If he wants to get something, then he needs to go inside. During the day, she and Lika carefully examined the room and found that the stairs were still strong and there were no trap holes in the floor. And he has a powerful flashlight with him. Unless, of course, it suddenly fails. This building of an abandoned estate actually hid many secrets. And just as he was thinking this, he suddenly noticed in one of the windows on the second floor a muffled light that flashed and immediately went out, as if someone was giving someone a prearranged signal. The man whistled in delight and hurriedly walked towards the porch, not taking his eyes off the windows. The light flared up again and this time did not go out, it only disappeared for a while and appeared in another window, as if someone was walking through the rooms with a lit candle in their hands. Maybe someone really got inside? Somebody alive, overly curious or who has found temporary shelter in an abandoned building. The man turned off the lantern just in case. And just in time, because I heard someone’s steps. Someone was walking ahead of him towards the porch. The moon, peeking out from behind the clouds, illuminated the thin, short figure of a girl who easily ran up the steps and froze indecision in front of the door.

- Hey? – he called out to the girl. But she didn’t seem to hear. She pulled the heavy door towards herself and disappeared behind it. The man rushed forward at a run, trying to overtake the stranger. Who is she? Judging by her build, Lika is clearly not tall. Live she or... The man entered, and the door behind him slammed shut by itself. A noisy knock broke the silence, spread like a wave through the empty room and responded with an unpleasant jolt in the chest. He couldn’t help but think that all routes to retreat were cut off, and for a moment he was overcome by a strong desire to turn around and leave. Maybe he would have done so if not for the thought of the girl who was a minute ahead of him. The man turned on the flashlight and cast a powerful beam of light around the room. Empty. No one. But the silence seemed deceptive to him; he felt with his skin the inhabitants of this house hiding in the dark corners of the hall. Will they let him back out? And, although he was not at all the timid type, the invisible glances directed at him from all sides made him feel uneasy. There was a rustling sound somewhere upstairs, followed by a muffled sigh, which seemed to him almost louder than the sound of a door slamming shut. The man resisted the unreasonable impulse to immediately rush forward towards the noise, raised the lantern and illuminated the landing above him. And he could barely contain his scream. He had seen a lot in his lifetime, but this was the first time he had to face something like this. And it would be better not to see this! As if hearing his spontaneous wish, the lantern in his hands suddenly vibrated, the light blinked and went out. And at the same moment the silence was broken by wild screams, laughter and sobs. And someone whispered insinuatingly right next to his ear: “Welcome to hell!”

Natalia Kalinina

Thin thread of purpose

* * *

The lighter, which had always served him well, suddenly balked. The man clicked the wheel in an unsuccessful attempt to strike a fire, but in response only idle clicks were heard, and a spark that did not bring any benefit flashed a couple of times. You would have thought that the lighter had run out of gas, but he had only refilled it a couple of days ago. Maybe this place had that effect on her? After all, during the day all their properly charged equipment, even cell phones, turned off. You can expect anything from this estate. Once again, without any hope, he clicked the wheel and finally struck out a small flame, from which he managed to light a cigarette. “Come on, don’t let me down!” – the man turned mentally to the building, white in the darkness, whose outline was similar to an iceberg that suddenly appeared in front of the bow of a cruise ship: it seemed just as cold, majestic and... deadly. But time passed and nothing happened. Midnight had long passed - the hour for which he had high hopes. Waiting in vain? The man trampled the cigarette butt into the ground with the toe of his rough boot, resolutely threw his backpack behind his back and adjusted the camera strap around his neck. What does he really expect? That the light would flash in the windows, revealing dark silhouettes to his gaze? If he wants to get something, then he needs to go inside. During the day, she and Lika carefully examined the room and found that the stairs were still strong and there were no trap holes in the floor. And he has a powerful flashlight with him. Unless, of course, it suddenly fails. This building of an abandoned estate actually hid many secrets. And just as he was thinking this, he suddenly noticed in one of the windows on the second floor a muffled light that flashed and immediately went out, as if someone was giving someone a prearranged signal. The man whistled in delight and hurriedly walked towards the porch, not taking his eyes off the windows. The light flared up again and this time did not go out, it only disappeared for a while and appeared in another window, as if someone was walking through the rooms with a lit candle in their hands. Maybe someone really got inside? Somebody alive, overly curious or who has found temporary shelter in an abandoned building. The man turned off the lantern just in case. And just in time, because I heard someone’s steps. Someone was walking ahead of him towards the porch. The moon, peeking out from behind the clouds, illuminated the thin, short figure of a girl who easily ran up the steps and froze indecision in front of the door.

- Hey? – he called out to the girl. But she didn’t seem to hear. She pulled the heavy door towards herself and disappeared behind it. The man rushed forward at a run, trying to overtake the stranger. Who is she? Judging by her build, Lika is clearly not tall. Live she or... The man entered, and the door behind him slammed shut by itself. A noisy knock broke the silence, spread like a wave through the empty room and responded with an unpleasant jolt in the chest. He couldn’t help but think that all routes to retreat were cut off, and for a moment he was overcome by a strong desire to turn around and leave. Maybe he would have done so if not for the thought of the girl who was a minute ahead of him. The man turned on the flashlight and cast a powerful beam of light around the room. Empty. No one. But the silence seemed deceptive to him; he felt with his skin the inhabitants of this house hiding in the dark corners of the hall. Will they let him back out? And, although he was not at all the timid type, the invisible glances directed at him from all sides made him feel uneasy. There was a rustling sound somewhere upstairs, followed by a muffled sigh, which seemed to him almost louder than the sound of a door slamming shut. The man resisted the unreasonable impulse to immediately rush forward towards the noise, raised the lantern and illuminated the landing above him. And he could barely contain his scream. He had seen a lot in his lifetime, but this was the first time he had to face something like this. And it would be better not to see this! As if hearing his spontaneous wish, the lantern in his hands suddenly vibrated, the light blinked and went out. And at the same moment the silence was broken by wild screams, laughter and sobs. And someone whispered insinuatingly right next to his ear: “Welcome to hell!”

The photograph was so large that it was larger than the narrow window on the other wall and seemed out of place in the small room. Such a portrait belongs in a museum, and not in this village house, in a tiny guest bedroom: a young lady in a white tight closed dress with a high collar and a rose at the bodice. The woman put one arm, covered with a sleeve, behind her back, and placed the other on the back of a nearby chair. Her dark hair, parted in the middle and styled around her head in an intricate updo, revealed a high forehead and small earlobes. Perhaps at one time the lady was considered attractive, but Marina found her face repulsive. Most likely because of the look: dark eyes looked into the lens warily and sternly. The girl immediately imagined that the unknown woman had once been a teacher in a pre-revolutionary gymnasium for girls.