One day a young guy was driving from Yaroslavl to one of the villages, his name was Denis.
He had some business - whether visiting a distant relative, or he received a simple
part-time: a bath for someone to repair or build a shed.
It was an early morning, over the fields hung a fog, like a huge ghostly sea.
The radio was playing in the car-some kind of pop music, the guy tried to lead slowly
and attentively, the beauty of the dawn was fascinating, despite the fact that he spent
all his life in these places, and his eye was accustomed to a gloomy tenderness that
seemed to imbue the surrounding space . It was not the majestic dusk of the northern
mountains, not burning out the deadness of the Polar region - no, just a soft dragon,
which all who happened to be here, inhaled along with the cool moist air.
Quiet, without a taste of drama or hysteria, elven sorrow, which is soaked like a sponge
in water without being noticed.
Denis only had to drive a little when a hiss came from the speakers, it grew, overlapping
another pop tune.
The guy frustratedly twisted the receiver's handle, but apparently the city was already
too far away, the radio signal was weakening.
He already wanted to turn off the radio altogether, when it seemed to him that someone's voice
broke through the noise - a tall, feminine, melodious voice.
Maybe the layering of another wave.
And there was something in that voice that appealed - I wanted to understand what they
were talking about or singing about.
It must have been a literary program, a fairy tale or a fantastic novel.
The actress repeated in her clear, intonated voice:
- ... At the oak, a branch protruding - as for a hanging man specially grew ... The clothesline
was rope, there was no other, nothing, skinny, it would stand, come down ... On the neck
the trail was crimson, the face swelled, the jaw dropped to the side ... Called everything
beautiful, and now death with other levels - like a doll hanging ... The branch is comfortable
and low growing - the legs of the fox have swallowed ... The meat is eaten, the legs
are in tatters of skin so on the bones and hang ... The dress was white, And from it
the legs of bone stick out ... Three springs hung, no one cried for it, did not look, did
not worry ...
Shook his head Denis - well read the actress, even through the thick radio interference
was evident the power of her talent.
The voice seems to come from the other world.
And the text is some kind of sticky, like a puddle of molasses, in which you flounder
like a fly caught in captivity.
Dreary, but you can not stop listening to him, he is like a funnel, against the will
dragging inside.
- The branch is comfortable, but it grows low - the legs of the fox have swallowed ... The
meat has been eaten up, the legs in the shreds of the skin so on the bones and hang ...
Apparently, something happened in the studio - a drive stopped.
The actress repeated the same words over and over again the same words about a low branch
of an oak tree, convenient for a hanging man, and about a dead woman in a light dress, who
had been hanging on a bitch for three years without attention of all who had left her.
- The fox's feet gnawed ... The fox's feet gnawed ... The fox's feet gnawed ... - the
radio repeated.
"What a hell of a thing," said Denis aloud, and still turned off the receiver.
The mood for some reason deteriorated - neither the beauty of the fog, nor the anticipation
of the end of the road no longer pleased.
He concentrated on driving, went into himself - in some deliberately everyday problems.
Suddenly it seemed to him that ahead of him a deer came out of the forest - some bright
spot loomed in the fog, it was necessary to slow down, so as not to be knocked down.
However, approaching, Denis saw a young woman who slowly walked along the roadside.
She looked a little lost, and she did not even turn to the sound of the approaching
car.
Something was going on so early - it seems that the feeling of self-preservation was
atrophied.
Who knows who on the empty road, and she did not even turn her head!
He drove closer, hit the brakes, lowered the window - only then the woman slowly turned
around.
In appearance about thirty years.
A narrow small face, dark hair braided in a braid, disheveled from the wind and walking,
light gray, almost transparent eyes.
She was dressed somewhat old-fashioned and completely out of the weather - a long, light
dress in a small flower - his hem was smudged in dried clay.
A blue scarf around his neck.
In this dress - and go through the dirt, it was necessary to think of it!
- Are you alright?
Denis asked, shivering.
The raw cold air burst into the heated car through the open window.
The woman did not respond immediately, she must have been staring for a whole minute,
calmly, without emotion, as if trying to focus her eyes.
She looked like a man who was oppressed with sedatives.
Denis was upset and regretted that he had stopped.
This woman obviously could bring troubles into his life, how was it to drive past: apparently,
she was thrown by someone on the road, maybe for several hours she was wandering, not knowing
herself where.
And now, instead of a quiet morning, he'll have to take her back to the regional center,
to talk to the police.
Denis got out of the car, rounded it, opened the door in front of a stranger.
"Sit down ... Do not be afraid, I will not do anything to you."
At me in interior it is warm.
And even have a thermos with coffee.
The woman sat on the front seat, her head did not turn.
Denis only had to look at her profile with a stealthy sly look.
We passed a kilometer, then another, she froze beside him like a doll.
- Are you local?
- Dennis decided to speak.
"Should I pour you some coffee?"
- What?
She finally gave a voice.
- No, do not.
I do not like coffee.
I do not like anything ...
"Where should I take you?"
Are we going the right way?
Or return to the city better?
- No.
All right, "she nodded.
"It's not far."
Her voice sounded vaguely familiar.
There are such voices - you can not cut out an ax from memory.
Denis took a closer look-no, he would have remembered that face.
It has become clear, leaves.
- What happened to you?
Why are you on the road alone?
"And I'm always alone," the woman answered colorlessly.
- A long time ago.
Always all alone ...
"It's strange," the guy decided.
- Blessed.
Hurry to get rid of it.
I hope he lives somewhere nearby.
It would be better to hand her to her relatives, so that they themselves would understand what
happened.
"
Denis for some reason shook, as if from a cold, I had to add heat to the stove.
The woman was very pretty.
It would seem nice to pass some of the way in the company with an unfamiliar beauty,
but the whole atmosphere around her seemed to be saturated with heavy sadness.
About such people say - strong energy.
Denis had such a boss: her very presence made her shiver and dream of escape, and after
she left the room, she always wanted to ventilate, letting in fresh air, although it smelled
of soap and expensive floral perfumes.
- Here!
- Suddenly said the woman, and the sound of her voice in such a booming echo answered
in silence, that Denis mechanically hit the brakes.
The car stopped dead.
- Here? - he was confused.
"But there's nothing right there."
I know these places.
Hey, are you all right?
Let's go back to the city, you need a doctor.
"I do not need anything."
The woman suddenly turned her whole body toward him, and her face distorted a pained grimace.
She looked like a black-and-white icon, the work of a talented master-adopis is a beautiful
mournful face, and in her eyes anger, rage and a cold cosmic emptiness.
Denis recoiled even.
"I do not need anything," she repeated.
"It's bad for me."
No one will understand.
And before all the beautiful called.
The most beautiful was ...
"You're still ... um ... nothing," he said politely.
"So where should I go, young lady?"
There is a field and a forest, there are no villages.
- Here, in the forest, the oak grows.
Branch branch protruding, as for the hanged man especially grew ...
The guy as if a wave of ice covered, sweat flung into a sweat, he suddenly realized how
this voice knows.
A bored broadcast that he had just tried to listen to!
The woman repeated the strange, unpleasant text word for word.
The clothesline was cordless, there was nothing else, it was thin, it would stand, it would
come down ... On the neck the trail was crimson, the face swelled, the jaw dropped to one side
... Called everything beautiful, and now the death with the others equalized - how the
doll hangs ... The branch is comfortable and low grows - the legs The foxes have eaten
... The meat has been eaten, the legs are in pieces of skin so on the bones and hang
... The dress is white, the best was, the legs of the bone stick out ... Three springs
hung, no one cried for it, did not look, did not worry ...
- What are you carrying?
- Denis tried to speak evil and confidently, that from the sound of his own voice, the
inner forces should be nourished.
- I took the rope with me to the forest ... I thought who would stop.
No, they did not catch up with us, they did not find us ... Three years were still hanging.
Nobody realized ... And there was a beauty ... And now what?
Look, look ... "She lifted her skirt like a drunken walking girl, but instead of legs,
Denis saw the bones.
Bony feet, kneecaps of skin are hanging, and above only the skeleton is white.
- The fox's feet have gnawed ... See?
The fox's feet swallowed ... Look ...
- Get out of the car!
Well, you!
Get out of here!
The woman, as if she had not heard, continued to babble monotonously:
- The trace on the neck is not ugly ... And no one remembered ... Three years ...
The guy jumped out of the car, opened the door from her side, roughly pulled out his
elbow - so that she fell flat on the ground.
I thought for some reason that she would start resisting, as usually happens in horror films,
which he sometimes liked to watch beer in the evening, commenting on what was happening
on the screen in a comic key.
But the woman remained on the ground.
Mumbled under her breath terrible words, she did not try to grab him by the leg.
Denis came back behind the wheel, pressed hard on the gas and, only when her crouched
figure disappeared in the distance, finally caught his breath.
"Some devilry ... I slept a little, or ... I do not even know what," he said aloud.
To somehow distract, I decided to turn on the radio again, catch some wave with frivolous
pop songs.
But instead of this one heard interference at every frequency.
Finally screwed up to some sounds and a little bit into the ditch did not move out when he
realized that all the same dreary monotonous voice says:
- The clothesline was rope, there was no other ... The neck was crimson, the face was swollen,
the jaw dropped to one side ... And I'll find you ... The fox's feet gnawed ... Threw me
out of the car, but I'll find you now ... I smell your scent ... I smell like A dog you
can find anyone ... Meat is eaten, legs are in tattered skin, it hangs on the bones ... I'll
find you ...
Neither alive nor dead with fear, Denis got to the right village - it was already light,
the local people woke up, started their daily work.
Of course, he told all his relatives when she asked why he was pale and nervous like
that.
She, strangely enough, was not surprised at all.
Confirmed - there is such an anomaly here, many complain and try to get closer to the
night by not driving on local roads.
She lived there supposedly in one village a suicide girl.
I fell in love unaccountably, and when I realized that there was no hope, I went into the forest
and hanged myself on a bitch.
They searched for it, but found it only three years later, as if the forest itself was hidden
from the eyes of strangers.
And now she is wandering around the neighborhood, solitary travelers watch her feet, her legs
are shown, and if she is angry - she is going to find him.
And then dreams for a long time, do not get rid of it in any way - you can only accept
and get used to, with time itself will pass.
One and the same dream is repeated, as if zaevshaya endless transmission - will be about
the fate of his unhappy story.
And after all, he will not answer a single question - only one and the same will begin
to repeat: oak, rope, foxes and his former, forever lost beauty.
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