Mystical stories of people. Mysterious stories based on real events. The most mystical stories

In this section we have collected true Mystic stories, sent by our readers and corrected by moderators before publication. This is the most popular section on the site, because... read stories about mysticism based on real events, is liked even by those people who doubt the existence of otherworldly forces and consider stories about everything strange and incomprehensible to be simply coincidences.

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My class teacher once told such a mystical story.

Ran out new year holidays, it's time to go to school, and the first lesson is literature. We read stories on New Year and Christmas themes, and Anna Ivanovna invited us to tell various stories related to miracles. Gradually, the stories began to move away from the chosen topic, some told about a little drum, others about a mystically missing thing. When the stories of our classmates ran out, we asked to tell interesting story and the teacher herself. This is what she told us.

When I was young and in my third year of university, my classmates and I often went hiking. This time was no exception. We were planning to go boating on the river next weekend. There was a large group of people, about 15 people, and we had fun packing our things and making plans. My mother knew all the guys and was favorable towards our trips. But, literally two days before departure, my mother urgently asked me not to go, justifying this. Of course, I rebelled, we had been discussing this trip for a month, I was so happy and looking forward to it, and then there was some kind of premonition. I am a Komsomol member, an atheist, and my mother speaks nonsense that is not due to a Soviet citizen. She oohed and aahed and waved her hand.

My uncle lived in the village when he was a child. His mother, father and grandfather lived with him. It seems that at that time his brother and sister were not born yet. They lived modestly and not easily, like most people living in villages at that time. The house they lived in seemed to be made of turf. Well, at that time such houses were not uncommon, due to the weak financial situation. In that house there was a large room in which the uncle slept, and next to it, across the passage, there was another room without a door, where the grandfather slept, and his couch was visible from his uncle’s bed. My uncle was then less than 10 years old.

I was again faced with the inexplicable. And can anyone help me figure it out? As I have told in other stories, I am married to a Dutchman. We live in Belgium. Married for almost 8 years. Before we got married, he lived in Holland and worked for the same employer for 20 years. He has a lot of experience operating a forklift. Forklift is a type of special warehouse floor transport designed for lifting, moving, unloading, loading, storing (stacking) pallets, pallets and other various cargo using forks or other working devices (attachments).

Next I arrived. Since the laws are different in Holland, and I did not have the right to live there, we moved to Belgium. His mother was against it and made scandals. She demanded that we draw up a marriage contract. We gave up on everything and legalized ourselves in Belgium and stayed there. Now she already knows how to behave, but I hate sitting at the same table with her. Next, I will say that when we moved to Belgium, he started having problems finding work. I don’t understand how this is possible. He is a perfectionist by nature. Faithful, loyal, honest, responsible, smart. And he has a decent amount of experience. My husband never stayed at any job for long. He was fired for no reason, they couldn’t even explain why. Then problems arose with registering the car, since in Belgium it is very difficult to register a Dutch one, and in new money there was none, and no one gave a loan, since there was no work. But his car didn’t cost anything, he got it from his uncle, an old one made in 1991.

This story happened to me when I was about 20. I was living abroad at the time and dating a guy. My boyfriend held a very good position and rented an apartment, where I periodically visited him, sometimes staying overnight. The apartment was renovated in a European style, done in dark colors. It looked stylish. Between the bedroom and the hall there was an opening in the wall in the form of an arch, where a stone statue stood. Golfer statue. I really didn’t like her, but she complemented the interior of the apartment. The statue was very heavy and too heavy for me to lift, that is, I could not remove it myself. I didn’t notice anything strange in the apartment until I started staying there alone.

It so happened that I am already writing the second one, which did not happen to me. I myself have never encountered this phenomenon, and to be honest, I have no desire to. After reading the story of my sister “” on this site, my husband told me his story, which happened to him when he was still a student returning home with friends late in the evening.

I'll tell you the story of my family, which affected three generations. I don't know, but the fact remains a fact.

My grandmother on my mother’s side died at the age of 35 (war, famine, illness), my mother was raised by my aunt. Mom got married, gave birth to three daughters, the middle daughter was born disabled. A terrible accident and mom and dad die, mom was 35 years old. We are raised by our paternal grandmother.

The date of May 9th for many of us is associated with Victory Day. But there are people, or rather, for whom this day has twice taken on a gloomy, mournful color. Why this happened on May 9 is still unknown. This is a sad story of people I have known since childhood.

Uncle Kolya and Aunt Raya have been friends with my parents for as long as I can remember. And I was friends with their daughter Klava, she was the same age as me. We played together, then went to the same school, but after graduation we went our separate ways to study different cities and after that I completely lost contact with her.

Uncle Kolya, Aunt Raya and their family were my parents’ neighbors on the landing, so Aunt Raya often dropped by to drink tea with my mother in her free time, talk about this and that, and when I was present at this, I really loved listening to her . Her calm, measured voice always calmed me down, I liked it, and how Aunt Raya talked about something, so I always asked her not to leave, but to stay with us a little.

A man and a cat are sitting under a plane tree, the cat will leave first, then the man, and then it will be the plane tree’s turn. An ancient parable, once again reminding us that nothing is eternal in this world, and everything will end someday. Elementary particles that live for fractions of seconds and stars that shine for billions of years will still die, and both believers and atheists agree with this statement.

If you believe all the terrible prophecies, then our Earth and all of humanity should have disappeared several tens of thousands of years ago. For many years, scientists, astrologers, and pseudo-scientific experts have been frightening us with the imminent death of all life on the planet. The list of such predictions is endless, and every year another prophet tells us about last days, but fortunately, we continue to live. Although, in the history of the Earth there were several periods when biological life hung by a thread. They are called "mass extinctions" and are actually very close to "".

Mystical stories from real life are loved by everyone who is interested in esotericism and tries to explain such cases from a scientific point of view, using an entire arsenal of tools consisting of school and university knowledge. However, that’s why mystical stories are called that - they have no reasonable explanation.

Our website contains the most terrible stories. These are mostly scary real-life stories told by people on social networks.

For apples. Village mystical story.

I once went to the village to visit my aunt. None of them have everything agriculture she was holding on, but it was hard for her and she asked me to help. Collect vegetables, fix things, clean up beds. No mysticism - just hard collective farm work.

After another round of digging in the ground, I decided to rest and eat an apple. Nearby there was an overgrown field, bordered by a forest, and stunted wild apple trees grew on it. My aunt also had Antonovka apple trees, but I didn’t like sour apples, so I went there.

While wandering across the field, I didn’t notice and climbed over the thatched arch. It turned out to be in vain. While I was picking apples, some branch almost gouged out my eye and scratched my cheek until it bled. But the work was not in vain. The apples are small, clean, not wormy and strong. I turn around, and it turns out that I was a little far from home. He was barely visible through the grass.

Let me push through the grass. But the grass grabbed me and didn’t want to let me go, and it seemed like I was going in the wrong direction. I turned around - the forest was not moving away! In addition, I felt that something was moving under my foot, I looked and went crazy - a snake!!! And it’s not a snake, I’ve seen snakes, I can’t confuse the yellow “ears” with anything. Frightened, I rushed through the thickets. 5 minutes later I stood at the porch of the house. My aunt saw me, came up and asked what was taking me so long and why I was disheveled.

It turns out I was gone for about an hour. I told my mystical story. She said, well, were the apples worth it? I answered that yes - I picked some wonderful apples. She looked at me so suspiciously and walked away. And I dumped the remaining apples on the grass (I lost most of them when I ran from there) and went crazy - they were all rotten and wormy. Then I asked my aunt what the hell this was, and she said that she puts up arches like that devilry who lives in the field and fools people. She said that the purpose of the arches is to prevent a person from reaching the house. And then I found the snake on the Internet - it turned out to be a copperhead.

Emergency in a military unit. Real military mystical story

My father served in a missile defense unit located deep in the steppe. The part was not easy, with secret equipment, secret itself, and so on. To the point that it was surrounded by mesh and a concrete fence with heavy, blank metal gates with electronic latches. Near the gate there were towers on which sentries were on duty around the clock. And all around is the steppe. For 60 kilometers there is not a single intelligent creature except the political officer. The “grandfathers” often told various mystical stories that took place on the territory of the unit - either a soldier disappeared without a trace, or an ensign went crazy... my dad didn’t believe it. But one day a misfortune befell him.

He was on guard - there were four people on duty in total. The task is to walk in circles around the military unit for half the night in search of obvious or hidden opponents. They had a good time (there were no wolves, lizards - that's all the enemies). On the last lap of honor, we stopped to relieve ourselves at the fence of our home base - twenty meters from the spotlight installed on the tower. The tide began to pour, and then the soldier who stood farthest began to yell. And he didn’t just scream, but with obvious signs that he was being dragged away from the others - the voice moved away. They pulled out the flashlights, they were shining - there was no person. No footprints in the sand, nothing. The machine gun is lying around. It’s clear that they screwed up. The charter did not say what to do in this case.

They rushed to the gate in horror, they shouted to the sentry, turn, searchlight, look what’s going on there. He turned and said that there was nothing. Clean perimeter. By this time, the lock was clicked, the gate was opened, and they ran into the territory in horror. It was absolutely necessary to close the gate. They closed like a simple “English” latch lock - by slamming. Dad pulls the door towards himself, but it doesn’t close. It’s not like someone is holding it, it’s just as if a stone had rolled under the sash or something was pushing against it. That's when my father went completely crazy.

Dad saw that at the level of his head, a paw was holding onto the edge of the sash. I asked him to describe it in more detail, but what he said was what he said - a withered human hand, gray, the color of mouse fur, with ugly nails. She didn’t pull the door towards her, but she didn’t let it close either, she just held on and that’s it. Dad, in a panic, yelled at the sentry to open fire on everything he saw outside the gate, but when he turned the searchlight, the gate easily slammed shut and there was nothing there again. They searched for the missing soldier for a week, but no trace of him was found. Such a terrible mystical story happened.

Night carousel lover.

I have wooden house in the village, and sometimes I go there to relax. The place is not easy and many mystical stories have happened. Today I will tell you one.

One day we were sitting in this village in a large group, visiting a girl, watching “Hipster.”

At about two in the morning I began to experience an incomprehensible anxiety. I remembered that I left the car on the territory of an old abandoned pioneer camp: it is located near the village, a favorite meeting place for young people. There is everything you need for happiness - silence, the absence of people over 20 years old, abandoned buildings where you can quietly smoke or drink. So, in the afternoon we opened the old rusty gate to the camp, and I drove the transport there. Why the hell? I do not remember! I grabbed a can of beer so as not to get bored on the road, I left the house and went to pick up my car from the camp.

Player in my ears, summer night, delicious beer... I reached the camp gate in about five minutes. He opened the gate and walked on - the car was parked about three hundred meters from them. As soon as I entered the territory, onto the broken asphalt path, along which crowds of schoolchildren walked just 15 years ago, I felt alarm. But this was natural, our camp is not an easy one; in the 90s, corpses were often found there, which became so not at all of their own free will. Then, in the summer of 2001, a certain satanic cult tried to organize gatherings there, but they didn’t work out, and we saw them about five times, no more. But this was enough for us - a sediment remained. Our abandoned camp is a gloomy place - strange, and at night, what can we hide, scary. But I, a supporter of rationalism, ordered my subconscious, which was begging me to leave quickly, to shut up, and continued on my way. And within a minute I got to the car, climbed inside, turned on the music and breathed a sigh of relief. I turned around on the narrow path, risking getting stuck, and drove towards the exit. Having already passed those very gates, being technically already on the territory of the village, and not the camp, I thought that it was not good to leave the gate open.

He stopped, put the handbrake on, got out and returned to the camp territory, again experiencing strange discomfort, which became twice as strong as five minutes ago. I quickly closed the gate and ran about ten meters into the camp out of necessity. Then I took out a pack of cigarettes, lit a cigarette, turned towards the gate, and... With my peripheral vision I saw that someone was riding on the old, long-rusted carousels, which were located about twenty meters from the path. At a decent speed. It was dark, but I saw a human silhouette, developing light-colored clothes, and his gaze was fixed in front of me. He didn't look at me though ordinary person they should have been interested in my manipulations with the gate. What am I saying, a normal person wouldn’t ride a carousel in an abandoned camp at two in the morning. I screamed and ran as fast as I could in the car - thank God it was started. Clutch and gas to the floor, squealing and the smell of burnt rubber, a convulsive glance in the rearview mirror...

And at this moment the low beam turns off, and I stop seeing anything. Screaming no worse than the first time, I pull, almost tearing out, the handle high beam. Thank God, it lights up and illuminates the rapidly approaching houses. I don't look back anymore. Arriving at the girl’s place where friends were sitting, he hung out in the car for a long time, smoking and listening to music. I tried to calm down.

I'll tell you what real life and without any monsters and mysticism, it couldn’t be more terrible. Therefore, I will tell you a second mystical story.

One day I was riding a bicycle outside the city, and about five or six kilometers from the district district I found an abandoned motor depot. A whole bunch of buildings - boxes, administrative buildings, barracks, substations, and a little on the outskirts there was a one-story bathhouse and shower room made of red brick, a kind of small house. What’s strange is that everything was in divine condition, although the base had been abandoned for a long time. I explained this by the fact that the approach to it begins with a completely inconspicuous turn off a major highway, and there are no populated areas nearby. In general, a quiet, deserted place. The stump was clear, I started visiting there: I built springboards for the bike, had a blast, sunbathed.

One day my partner and his friend and I were driving past the turn to the base in a car. I invited them to stop by and show me my “farm”, and my partner was looking for some building materials for the dacha, which are expensive to buy, but they were at the base. In general, we turned, we are approaching. I should add that by this time I had not been to the hacienda for a couple of weeks, but I immediately realized that someone had been here. Firstly, where the asphalt area in front of the base began, burnt sticks were stuck. It smelled like a mystical story:))) Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be burnt torches.

Well, okay, the Tolkienists were waving mops here, so be it. But nearby on the road, in brown rubbish, an entire poem was written in incomprehensible signs - they did not look like hieroglyphs or runes, I can vouch for that. This mystical story was no longer similar to the Tolkienists. Then it smelled even more mystical. The guys with me were curious, even though they were both 30 years old, they went to climb the buildings. We all looked and saw this very bathhouse on the outskirts. They come up to me and say, “I’ve got a great job, I’ve hung curtains on the windows.” I thought he was joking. It would be better to joke. All the windows (they didn’t even have frames) and the door were curtained from the inside with thick black fabric, and something was whining inside.

In general, my guys were not cowardly - one was a fireman, the other was simply an extreme person in life, but we all screwed up at the same time. Armed ourselves with sticks. The partner throws a rag from the window with a stick, and we see the following picture: the interior of the bathhouse, lined with tiles, is covered with writings from bottom to ceiling, some with a marker, part with paint, part with this brown rubbish, but the walls are COMPLETELY covered with writing. To do this, you need a whole team and at least a week of time. Keys hung from the ceiling on strings. Ordinary door keys, a lot, several hundred for sure. In the middle of the room there was a table with two black cylindrical objects. And in the next room someone was breathing hoarsely.

It’s clear that I didn’t want to go inside. There was some kind of ritual with a good dose of silliness, and it is unknown whether this ritual was completed, or whether it could not be completed without our livers and they were waiting for us to visit. I suggested throwing a brick at one of the cylinders on the table. Everyone voted yes, and I threw. It turned out to be a three-liter jar, wrapped in the same black cloth as on the windows; it broke, and a black puddle of vile scum spread across the table. Within a couple of seconds, such a terrible smell of rotten meat hit our noses from the window opening that we ran away ten meters - I’m sure it was real, pretty rotten blood, as much as six liters of blood (we didn’t break the second jar, but I I think that the contents there were not Coca-Cola either). When we got used to the stench, a firefighter friend suggested we still look at who was wheezing behind the wall. They held their noses, tore the rag from the entrance, and went in with sticks. What I saw completely finished me off.

Hanging in a corner near the ceiling are two pigs, each the size of large dog, one, obviously dead, was all cut up by something thin - the skin on her was simply turned into noodles, there were no eyes, the floor was covered in her blood, and the rope on which she was hanging came straight out of her mouth - I still don’t know , whether it was a hook or not, it was clearly something brutal - the tongue and part of the intestines were sticking out. But the second pig was alive, twitching its paws and breathing hoarsely. It was hung in the same way, but there were much fewer cuts. I think that she did not make any sounds because she was either exhausted, or her vocal cords were torn out by this incomprehensible “hanger”. But it made such an impression that I was able to calm down the trembling in my jaw only late in the evening with the help of one and a half liters of whiskey for three.

In the twilight, in silence, a pig hanging by its intestines is kicking its legs, among keys hanging from the ceiling, hieroglyphs and the unbearable smell of carrion from spilled blood. I then searched the Internet for a description of such a ritual: keys, blood, a sacrificial pig - such vileness is not found anywhere, even in black magic. Another unpleasant moment: the blood was clearly not those pigs, already rotten, but whose - who knows. Obviously, these guys didn’t fill six liters of mosquitoes. Is this a mystical story or a real abomination worse than fairy tales - you decide.

New place. Stories from Uzbekistan

It's 1984, Uzbekistan, a small town two hundred kilometers from Tashkent. Angren. Death Valley. In fact, there was nothing terrible in the town, it was just not a very pleasant place: there were mountains everywhere. They seemed to hang over and want to crush. We came as a whole family: grandparents (on the maternal side), mother and father, aunt and family, and uncle. We bought several excellent apartments and dachas at once and planned to live happily ever after.

Five years of quiet and peaceful life pass - the family's wealth is much above average: the mother works in the city executive committee, the father conducts military training at a local school. I'm in sixth class. Well, fights motivated by racial hatred are commonplace. And then it started.

First, ants began to appear in the house. Thousands. And they crushed this scum, and poisoned them, whatever they did. They continued to trample their paths. After a couple of months, the ants disappeared, and cockroaches took their place. Huge and disgusting, finger-length. They appeared at night: crawled along the walls and ceiling, periodically falling on my face. It was disgusting.

Tired of the unsuccessful struggle, the whole family moved to our aunt. She lived with her husband and daughter on the other side of the city in a luxurious four-room apartment on the sixth floor of the only nine-story building in the city. At first it was very good: the whole family watched the video, played with my sister and did other fun things. At that time, my parents were engaged in chemical warfare in their old apartment using a sanitary and epidemiological station and other heavy weapons.

Several months have flown by like one day, and it’s time to return home. There were no insects. There was a strange feeling of threat. At least for me. My parents, like true communists, did not believe in all that nonsense. But the feeling did not disappear: being in the apartment, I felt that I was being watched. They look unkind like that. A little later this feeling began to haunt me outside the walls of the house. As soon as you were left alone, went out to buy bread, you felt a boring gaze on the back of your head. I always tried to be in society, even if society promised swearing and fights. Hanging around with my peers, trying to smoke.

I simply could not be in that apartment. I already slept in the same room with my parents. At one “wonderful” moment, my father went to Tashkent for several months. “To improve my qualifications,” although in reality it was a family matter. As a result, I was left alone with my mother in a three-room apartment. The feeling of danger began to disappear: it seemed that the invisible spy began to mess around, and then completely disappeared. I started sleeping in a separate room again. The calm before the storm.

I woke up with a feeling of chilling horror. For some time I could not open my eyes, no, I did not want to open them. I felt death was nearby. I still remember those minutes with a shudder. Silence, you can’t even hear the ticking of a clock, cold (in July in a southern country) and all-consuming horror.

A flash and a roar brought me out of the state of a leaf trembling in the wind. I open my eyes and see in the beam of a flashlight a figure bent over, apparently in pain. I instantly jump out of bed and run to my mother standing in the doorway with a gun in her hands. A growing feeling of horror - I see a figure slowly rising. When I find myself behind my mother, several shots and a heart-rending scream are heard. Mother screams. Then, it seems, I shit myself and passed out.

I woke up at my grandfather’s house: my mother, pale and pale, my uncle and my grandfather and grandmother were sitting at the table. And a few cops are milling around. After discussing something, my grandfather, his uncle and the cops went to my mother’s and my apartment. Look for the robber's body. A few hours after they left, shooting began. This is a good one: they beat me in long bursts. The robber's body was not found, and the cops, having collected the shell casings and counted the holes in the walls, left.

Grandfather and uncle remained to guard the apartment. And then it began. Grandfather, they say, was found on the veranda with Stechkin in his hand. Dead. Heart attack. Although my uncle remained alive, he turned gray and began to stutter. And he drank heavily. I drank myself quickly. The next day, without even saying goodbye, my mother and I went to see my father in Tashkent, and from there the three of us flew to Moscow. I tried to talk to my mother about that incident. She always said reluctantly: either it was a bandit, or her grandfather’s inheritance, who decided to take revenge through her children and grandchildren, or who knows what. One day she started talking, saying that she shot at this creature at least twice. They found only one 12-gauge hole in the wall, and my grandfather shot out 2 magazines. However, a mystical story came out...

An unexpected phenomenon. A mystical story about an old road.

Last summer I vacationed in the village. The village is more than 200 years old - a place, in a sense, historical, with its own attractions. One of them is a stone road built by convicts under Catherine II.

As a child, my uncle told me that convicts who died during construction were buried under the road, and then paved with stones on top. So, last summer, my friend and I went for a walk there at night (my friend wanted to admire the stars where there were no lanterns).

The night is quiet, dark, there is a forest around the road, there is no moon. Mysticism... Suddenly a feeling of anxiety arose - “something is wrong.” By that time we had already moved far from the village, the lanterns had disappeared behind the forest. I began to frantically look around, trying to understand what could have alerted me. I didn’t see anything, the forest stood like a black wall around me, it was impossible to distinguish the outlines of the trees, and even where they ended and the blackening sky began. No red, ominously glowing eyes were found either.

A thought flashed through my head: how, in this darkness, we managed to get so far from the village and not lose our way. I lowered my eyes to look at the road. She was glowing! More precisely, it was clearly visible! Every stone, every plant that made its way through the potholes between them. There was nothing around that resembled a light source. I remembered the stories that my uncle told, grabbed my girlfriend in my arms and chose to get out of there. I don’t know how this can be explained, maybe it can, but I was pretty scared then. This is such a mystical story.

Children from the Dark

I'm going to Smolensk to register a car. Sunny summer day, in the back seat there is food, drinks, a warm blanket. You may have to spend the night in your car. Smoke breaks, sleep for twenty minutes, sandwich. On the road again. Smooth straight road. A few hours later, customs. Decor. Boring faces. Papers, photocopier. Payment of expenses. Drivers of huge trucks. Cigarettes, queues, waiting. Long after midnight - back. There are few cars. Oncoming drivers politely switch to low beams. I'm starting to fall asleep. I know that in such cases it is impossible to go further.

After a while, I exit the highway, I drive off carefully. The asphalt road leads to a vacant lot. Along the edges there is a forest. Bumpy earthen area. I stop in the center, unfold the back seats, and spread out the blanket. Quiet. For some reason I don’t want to turn off the light. I finish my cigarette, lie down, turn off the lamp and headlights. I toss and turn for a while, then I fall asleep. The dream is dark, like the forest around the car.

I wake up to the car rocking. Laughter is heard. Children's laughter, funny and sinister at the same time. The windows are fogged up, you can’t see anything. I approach the window, trying to look at something. At this time, a child’s palm suddenly hits the glass on the other side and slides down. I scream in surprise. I move to the front seat. I'm frantically looking for the keys. Nowhere. I pat my pockets. The laughter doesn't stop. The car is rocking more and more. It smells like burning. The keys, it turns out, are in the ignition. The engine roars. I turn on the headlights automatically. Children stand in a tight line in front of the car. There are about twenty of them. They are dressed in old, Soviet-style, government-issued pajamas. There are black spots on their faces and clothes. Reverse gear. Over bumps, howling engine. The children's figures move away, one of them waves his hand. I fly onto the highway, gas to the floor, flying like crazy. Only now I notice that it is raining.

DPS post. I turn towards him, almost crash into the wall, jump out, rush to the surprised guard, and confusedly tell him what happened. He laughs and tests me for alcohol. He takes him to his place and offers to rest. Wondering where it was. I am telling. He listens carefully, then becomes gloomy and exchanges glances with his partner. Then they tell me a mystical story. There was a children's boarding school in that place, it burned down in the late eighties, almost all the pupils died. Then he assures me that I was just having a nightmare. I agree. Here, in the warmth, in the company of armed traffic cops, everything seems like a dream. After a while, I thank them, get ready and go out to the car. On the hood, almost washed away by the rain, you can see the prints of small children’s hands stained with soot.

Obsession

I've been living alone for two weeks now. My mother recently died and was buried by the whole family. I still can’t move away; I never knew my father. A cheerful life is coming - me and my cat. And it seems to me that I am slowly starting to go crazy.

Yesterday I returned home from work (I work shifts as a packer on an assembly line) at about three in the morning, had dinner with my favorite Doshirak and went to bed. The mobile phone, as usual, was placed on the nightstand at the head of the bed. And so, in the morning they called me. In my sleep I pressed the answer button and heard:

Hey son, listen, I already left for work. Take the chicken out of the freezer and I'll cook something tonight.

“Okay, mom,” I answered through my sleep and hung up.

Half a minute later I was standing over the bathroom sink, washing my face with cold water. I was shivering.

“I wonder who could make such a joke? - I thought. “But the voice was hers!” I thought about it for a long time and eventually came to a lackluster conclusion: well, they were joking, and they were joking, a few idiots, or something. With these thoughts, I went to the kitchen to make my morning coffee.

There was a chicken in the sink. If it weren’t for the morning drowsiness, I would have fallen into hysterics, but my legs just gave way. I’m sitting, shaking, but I don’t have the courage to get up and do something with this chicken. And then the doorbell rang. Opening the door, I saw the postman. He handed me a letter. The letter had no return address and no name of the addressee. I go to the kitchen, start to open the envelope - and then it hits me in the head. The sink is empty! Not a sign of the damn chicken. I put the letter aside, looked into the freezer - it was lying there, frozen, in pieces of ice, obviously it had not been taken out for a week, from the very moment I threw it in there. “I’ll see something like this,” I thought. “The psyche, crushed by the death of a loved one, still makes itself felt.” He returned to the letter, took out a folded piece of paper and began to read:

“Dear Tamara Alexandrovna (that was my mother’s name), we offer you our sincere condolences on the death of your son. "

"WHAT?!" - flashed through my head.

". in connection with the death of your son (my name and patronymic was written here) at work.”

I fell into a stupor. What happens? A letter comes from my place of work without a return address with my obituary, and they know that she died - I took money from the mutual aid fund for the funeral, and my bosses organized a vacation for a week for me!

In the end, I decided to deal with all this devilry when I arrived from work, got dressed and left. At work, I asked leading questions in the personnel department and in the supply department - given that they looked at me like an idiot, I realized: someone seriously decided to piss me off or put me in a fool. After working for a day with such gloomy thoughts, I went home.

I entered the apartment and immediately noticed a strange smell from my mother’s room. Has the cat really gone to relieve himself where he shouldn’t have again? I took a rag from the bathroom, went into my mother's room and saw a stain on the bed. I turned on the light and almost had a heart attack - I broke out in a cold sweat, my chest felt tight, all I could do was sag like a bag on the floor and convulsively gasp for air. On the mother's bed there was a red-brown stain on half the sheet. To say that I was crazy is to say nothing.

I don’t remember how I crumpled up this sheet and threw it down the garbage chute. Criminologists call this “state of passion.” I remember myself already in the kitchen, knocking over a glass of vodka. And now I’m sitting on the Internet and typing this text in order to somehow systematize what’s happening to me. To my right is a letter about my death, dated tomorrow, and to my left is a telephone that has been trilling for five minutes. Mom is calling, and her turned off phone is in the next room. I don't want to answer this call, I really don't want to. But the phone doesn’t want to calm down.

If I manage to survive this night without going crazy, then tomorrow I will have to go to work on the night shift. But I don't want to die, I don't want to.

Younger brother

Once I spent the night with my friends Sergei and Ira after a fair amount of drinking in honor of their wedding anniversary. Driving a car in my condition was fraught with an accident, but he has a large house, inherited from his grandmother, with many rooms. This is a reasonable proposal - especially for a bachelor who is not welcome at home.

Look, our lights are often turned off at night,” Serge warned me. - So be careful. My son is always throwing toys around. I almost killed myself.

I understood everything, took the bed linen and went to bed. Either I had too many impressions that evening, or the new place was taking its toll, but I slept poorly. I had some nightmares, it was stuffy (and this with the window wide open). At about two in the morning, I was overcome by a terrible dry spell. And if I somehow struggled with nightmares, then thirst forced me to wake up and go in search of water.

There was no light in the house, as Serge had promised. However, my eyes had already become accustomed to the darkness, so I didn’t experience any particular problems. When I got to the refrigerator, I took out a pack of cold juice and halved it in one fell swoop. Then I heard a quiet, barely audible child's cry. I frowned. Only Platon, Sergei’s four-year-old son, could cry. I stood in the kitchen, listening, but the crying continued, and Ira and Sergei were sleeping too soundly.

I returned the juice to the refrigerator and decided to see what was wrong with the child. On the one hand, this is not my concern, but I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t hear anything, and I couldn’t go to bed. Following the sound, I reached the door at the farthest end of the corridor and stopped. The crying was definitely coming from behind the door, so I opened it a crack and looked into the room. A typical children's room - a spread out bed on the left, a table by the window, a huge closet dark spot on the right side.

Plato? - I asked quietly. - This is Uncle Denis. Why are you crying?

Someone stirred in the corner. The crying died down.

“Aha, here comes Plato,” I thought and went into the room. Closing the door behind me, I walked up to the baby, who was sitting in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, sobbing quietly, hugging some kind of toy. “Well,” I asked as kindly as possible, “why are we crying?”

Plato remained silent, then said quietly:

There's a scarecrow here.

“He’s behind,” the child whispered very quietly. I turned around. There was no one behind.

“It’s in the closet,” Plato stood next to me. - Waiting for you to leave.

I, muttering the usual words at such moments that it was all a dream and there was nothing here, went to the closet. Plato remained standing in the corner.

Do you see? It’s empty here,” I said and opened the door. The closet was empty. I persuaded Plato to go to bed, wished him good night and promised to immediately punish any bogeyman within this house.

In the morning Sergei woke me up. We had breakfast and started getting ready to go fishing. Already near the lake, I remembered my night adventure and told it to my friend. Serge remained silent.

What? - I looked at my friend in surprise. He was pale as death.

Plato slept all night with us. And in the far room along the corridor, many years ago, my older brother slept.

He was found dead when he was four. He said he saw something coming out of the closet.

Bad purchase. True story

My girlfriend and I once decided to renovate - there was a mini-flood in the kitchen (they suddenly turned on hot water), and the linoleum became unusable. We decided to buy a new one. Let's go to the construction supermarket. There was linoleum in the department, but it was expensive. My girlfriend and I are not rich - we didn’t want to spend crazy thousands of rubles on repairs, and we asked the consultant where there were cheaper solutions. The consultant silently pointed to the discounted goods department.

In the corner of the department, on the bottom shelf, it hung - a thick beige beauty with a geometric pattern in the shape of triangles, soft to the touch. The price per meter was so ridiculous that we immediately decided to take it and asked them to cut off the required amount for us. It’s a coincidence, but that’s exactly what was on the roll.

The first strange thing awaited us in the supermarket - the barcode for this product was not in the database. They wanted to give up on the dream, but it turned out that the linoleum was delivered by a freelance truck with yoghurts hours ago and simply did not have time to bring it in. We never discovered the reason for the markdown; the consultant said something about a fire at the factory, although our roll was clearly not damaged. On the way home, the girl noted that it smelled strange - sweet and spicy. It was not the smell of burning, but rather the aroma of light oriental incense.

We noticed the second strange thing when we brought the roll home and began preparing it for replacement. Our cat, a half-yard Siamese, looked strangely at the linoleum, poked it with her paw and suddenly jumped back with a terrible hiss, pressing her ears. Apparently she didn't like his smell. We laughed at the unreasonable animal and got to work. By the end of the day, the kitchen looked great - the linoleum lay perfectly and did not even require ironing. It felt nicer on the feet than shag carpet - it was warm. This was not surprising; it was July outside the window, but it was moderately warm, as if it was adjusting to our temperature.

At night, the girl pushed me aside and said in a whisper - we have problems. At first I didn’t understand what was going on, but then I heard it: measured slaps were coming from the kitchen, like those that can be heard in a swimming pool. Rare but distinct. And another creaking of wood. We live on the first floor, we don’t close the window, so the thought of a night thief arose.

I gathered my strength, took a flashlight and decisively ran into the kitchen. No one, just the wind blowing and drunkards screaming outside the window. Empty. I climbed into the chest of drawers, took out vodka and drank a glass, the girl drank the second. We returned to bed and fell asleep safely.

The next morning, a third strange thing was discovered - our cat had disappeared somewhere. They searched the whole apartment, even the entrance (you never know, she could have gotten out), walked around the area and called her for a long time - the result was zero. It was very pitiful, but mixed with the pity was the feeling of something alien and dangerous, something that sent a chill down the back and goosebumps on the skin.

At night, after intense lovemaking, I turned to the wall, but my girlfriend couldn’t sleep. She said something (calmly, not alarmed), and I listened to her with half an ear and fell asleep. The last thing I remember is that she got off the bed and went to drink water.

I dreamed that I was walking along the corridor and saw a door, from under which a rumble was heard and a pale pink light broke through. I reach out to it and it suddenly swings open. What was behind it turned out to be so terrible that I woke up in a cold sweat.

It was already morning, birds were singing outside the window and the sun was shining. I turned over to my other side to hug my beloved. The bed was empty.

All the girl’s things were in place, the clothes were hanging on hangers. My friends were silent and said that only I could have it. We filed a report with the police, but the search was unsuccessful. It was terrible. Every night I dreamed about this door, I stopped eating normally and going to work.

A week after the girl disappeared, the kitchen began to smell strange. It was the already familiar, but intensified smell of linoleum with an admixture of something nauseating. I thought about the trash heap, but that wasn't the issue. Something reddish-brown could be seen from under the edge of the linoleum. I tore off the linoleum with trembling hands and vomited.

The linoleum floor was covered in a rotting, bloody mess. The worst thing awaited me back side linoleum - there were faded prints of four cat paws and two women's feet.

Reasoning on the topic of mystical stories from the editor of ScaryStory

Why do we all love mystical stories so much? Some people (like me ;)) associate scary stories with childhood, when we all loved to sit around the fire on dark nights, tell mystical stories to each other, eat baked potatoes with salt and bread and get incredible pleasure from it.

The sensations and experiences associated with some special feeling of comfort that settled in the soul have remained with us forever. And it’s unlikely that anyone will disagree with me that there is quite a lot of inexplicable mystical and mysterious things in our lives. Despite the fact that we have all grown up a long time ago, received an education, work in a solid job, communicate with different people, events still happen in our lives that we cannot always explain from the point of view of rationality.

For some this is an interesting coincidence, for others it is truly mystical cases. Some of my friends even claim that they have personally seen a UFO, aliens or a ghost. And you know, being a skeptic by nature, I believe many.

The mystical experience inherent in every person has been embedded in him since the time of our distant hairy ancestors. Just as then, people sitting by the fire and eating mammoth believed that the Dark World around them was filled with spirits and various unusual creatures, so today in our scientific world there is a place for the inexplicable and mysterious. For modern man, like for the Neanderthal, mystical stories begin exactly where the light of an electric light bulb ends.

As soon as you get into the forest or onto the territory of an abandoned estate on a dark evening, the air around you is filled with demons, mermaids, goblins, brownies and other mystical evil spirits. Our brain, nourished by horror films and not forgetting old wives' tales, paints a picture in oil. Every rustle, every creaking of the floorboards of the old house seems threatening, and the shadows dancing on the walls seem to us like mystical creatures.

A mystical story is also a fairy tale, returning us to the world of childhood and mystery. If you understand what I mean and, like me, I love mysticism, Welcome to the site on which I have collected mystical and mysterious stories from different people told at different times

Happy reading, Friends!

Write in the comments if you are like me :)))))))

Nowadays, it is quite difficult to completely hide information about yourself, because all you have to do is type a few words into a search engine - and secrets are revealed and secrets come to the surface. With the development of science and the improvement of technology, the game of hide and seek becomes more and more difficult. It was, of course, easier before. And there are many examples in history when it was impossible to find out what kind of person he was and where he came from. Here are a few such mysterious cases.

15. Kaspar Hauser

May 26, Nuremberg, Germany. 1828 A teenager of about seventeen wanders aimlessly through the streets, clutching a letter addressed to Commander von Wessenig. The letter states that the boy was taken in for training in 1812, taught to read and write, but was never allowed to "take one step out of the door." It was also said that the boy should become a "cavalryman like his father" and the commander could either accept him or hang him.

After meticulous questioning, we were able to find out that his name was Kaspar Hauser and he spent his entire life in a “darkened cage” 2 meters long, 1 meter wide and 1.5 meters high, in which there were only an armful of straw and three toys carved from wood (two horses and dog). A hole was made in the floor of the cell so he could relieve himself. The foundling hardly spoke, could not eat anything except water and black bread, called all people boys, and all animals horses. The police tried to find out where he came from and who the criminal was that made a savage out of the boy, but they could not find out. Over the next few years, he was cared for by one person or another, taking him into their homes and caring for him. Until on December 14, 1833, Kaspar was found with a stab wound to the chest. A purple silk wallet was found nearby, and inside it was a note made in such a way that it could only be read in a mirror image. It read:

“Hauser will be able to describe to you exactly what I look like and where I came from. In order not to bother Hauser, I want to tell you myself where I come from _ _ I came from _ _ the Bavarian border _ _ on the river _ _ I’ll even tell you my name: M . L. O."

14. Green children of Woolpit

Imagine that you live in the 12th century in the small village of Woolpit in the English county of Suffolk. While harvesting in a field, you find two children huddled in an empty wolf's hole. The children speak an incomprehensible language, are dressed in indescribable clothes, but the most interesting thing is that their skin is green. You take them to your home where they refuse to eat anything other than green beans.

After a while, these children - brother and sister - begin to speak a little English, eat more than just beans, and their skin gradually loses its green tint. The boy gets sick and dies. The surviving girl explains that they came from the "Land of St. Martin", an underground "world of darkness", where they looked after their father's cattle, and then heard a noise and found themselves in a wolf's den. The inhabitants of the underworld are green and dark all the time. There were two versions: either it was a fairy tale, or the children escaped from the copper mines.

13. The Man from Somerton

On December 1, 1948, police discovered the body of a man on Somerton Beach in Glenelg (a suburb of Adelaide) in Australia. All the labels on his clothes were cut off, he had no documents or wallet on him, and his face was clean shaven. Even the teeth could not be identified. That is, there was not a single clue at all.
After the autopsy, the pathologist concluded that “death could not have occurred due to natural causes” and assumed poisoning, although no traces of toxic substances were found in the body. Apart from this hypothesis, the doctor could not guess anything more about the cause of death. Perhaps the most mysterious thing in this whole story was that with the deceased they found a piece of paper torn from a very rare edition of Omar Khayyam, on which only two words were written - Tamam Shud (“Tamam Shud”). These words are translated from Persian as “finished” or “completed”. The victim remained unidentified.

12. The Man from Taured

In 1954, in Japan, at Tokyo's Haneda Airport, thousands of passengers were rushing about their business. However, one passenger seemed to be taking no part in it. For some reason, this outwardly completely normal man in a business suit attracted the attention of airport security, they stopped him and started asking questions. The man answered in French, but was also fluent in several other languages. His passport contained stamps from many countries, including Japan. But this man claimed that he came from a country called Taured, located between France and Spain. The problem was that none of the maps offered to him showed any Taured in this place - Andorra was located there. This fact greatly saddened the man. He said that his country had existed for centuries and that he even had its stamps in his passport.

Discouraged, airport officials left the man in a hotel room with two armed guards outside the door while they tried to find more information about the man. They didn't find anything. When they returned to the hotel for him, it turned out that the man had disappeared without a trace. The door did not open, the guards did not hear any noise or movement in the room, and he could not leave through the window - it was too high. Moreover, all of this passenger’s belongings disappeared from the airport security premises.

The man, simply put, dived into the abyss and did not return.

11. Lady Grandmother

The 1963 assassination of John F. Kennedy has given rise to many conspiracy theories, and one of the most mystical details of this event is the presence in photographs of a certain woman who was dubbed Lady Granny. This woman in a coat and sunglasses was in a bunch of pictures, moreover, they show that she had a camera and was filming what was happening.

The FBI tried to find her and establish her identity, but to no avail. The FBI later called on her to turn over her videotape as evidence, but no one ever came. Just think: this woman, in daylight, in full view of at least 32 witnesses (photographed and videoed by her), witnessed and videotaped a murder, and yet no one, not even the FBI, could identify her. It remained a secret.

10. D.B. Cooper

It happened on November 24, 1971 at Portland International Airport, where a man who had bought a ticket using documents in the name of Dan Cooper boarded a plane bound for Seattle, clutching a black briefcase in his hands. After takeoff, Cooper gave the flight attendant a note saying that he had a bomb in his briefcase and his demands were $200,000 and four parachutes. The flight attendant notified the pilot, who contacted authorities.

After landing at Seattle Airport, all passengers were released, Cooper's demands were met and the exchange was made, after which the plane took off again. As he flew over Reno, Nevada, the calm Cooper ordered all personnel on board to remain seated as he opened the passenger door and jumped into the night sky. Despite the large number of witnesses who could identify him, “Cooper” was never found. Only a small portion of the money was found in a river in Vancouver, Washington.

9. 21-faced monster

In May 1984, a Japanese food corporation called Ezaki Glico faced a problem. Its president, Katsuhiza Yezaki, was kidnapped for ransom from his home and held for some time in an abandoned warehouse, but then managed to escape. A little later, the company received a letter stating that the products were poisoned with potassium cyanide and there would be casualties if all products were not immediately recalled from food warehouses and stores. The company's losses amounted to $21 million, 450 people lost their jobs. The Unknowns - a group of people who took the name "21-faced monster" - sent mocking letters to the police, who could not find them, and even gave hints. The next message said that they had “forgiven” Glico, and the persecution had stopped.

Not content with playing with one large corporation, the Monster organization has its eyes on others: Morinaga and several other food companies. They acted according to the same scenario - they threatened to poison the food, but this time they demanded money. During a botched money exchange operation, a police officer almost managed to capture one of the criminals, but still let him go. Superintendent Yamamoto, who was responsible for investigating this case, could not bear the shame and committed suicide by self-immolation.

Shortly after, "The Monster" sent his final message to the media, ridiculing the death of a police officer and ending with the words: "We are the bad guys. That means we have better things to do than harass companies. Being bad is fun. Monster with 21 faces." . And nothing more was heard about them.

8. The Man in the Iron Mask

The "man in the iron mask" had the number 64389000, as follows from prison archives. In 1669, the minister of Louis XIV sent a letter to the governor of the prison in French city Pignerol, in which he announced the imminent arrival of a special prisoner. The minister ordered the construction of a cell with several doors to prevent eavesdropping, to provide for this prisoner's every basic need, and finally, if the prisoner ever spoke of anything other than this, to kill him without hesitation.

This prison was known for incarcerating "black sheep" from noble families and the government. It is noteworthy that the "mask" received special treatment: his cell was well furnished, unlike the rest of the prison cells, and two soldiers were on duty at the door of his cell, who were ordered to kill the prisoner if he removed his iron mask. The imprisonment lasted until the prisoner's death in 1703. The same fate befell the things he used: the furniture and clothes were destroyed, the walls of the cell were scraped and washed, and the iron mask was melted down.

Many historians have since fiercely debated the identity of the prisoner in an attempt to find out whether he was a relative of Louis XIV and for what reasons he was destined for such an unenviable fate.

7. Jack the Ripper

Perhaps the most famous and mysterious serial killer in history, London first heard about him in 1888, when five women were killed (although it is sometimes said that there were eleven victims). All the victims were connected by the fact that they were prostitutes, and also by the fact that all of them had their throats cut (in one of the cases, the cut went right up to the spine). All victims had at least one organ cut out of their bodies, and their faces and body parts were mutilated almost beyond recognition.

What's most suspicious is that these women were clearly not killed by a novice or amateur. The killer knew exactly how and where to cut, and he knew the anatomy perfectly, so many immediately decided that the killer was a doctor. The police received hundreds of letters in which people accused the police of incompetence, and there appeared to be letters from the Ripper himself, signed “From Hell.”

None of the many suspects and none of the countless conspiracy theories have been able to shed any light on the case.

6. Agent 355

One of the first spies in US history, and a female spy, was Agent 355, who worked during American Revolution on George Washington and part of the Culper Ring spy organization. This woman provided vital information about the British army and its tactics, including plans for sabotage and ambushes, and if not for her, the outcome of the war might have been different.

Supposedly in 1780, she was arrested and sent aboard a prison ship, where she gave birth to a boy, who was named Robert Townsend Jr. She died a little later. However, historians are suspicious of this story, stating that women were not sent to floating prisons, and there is no evidence of the birth of a child.

5. The Zodiac Killer

Another serial killer who remains unknown is the Zodiac. This is practically an American Jack the Ripper. In December 1968, he shot and killed two teenagers in California - right on the side of the road - and attacked five more people the following year. Only two of them survived. One victim described the attacker as a pistol-waving man wearing a cloak with an executioner's hood and a white cross painted on his forehead.
Like Jack the Ripper, the Zodiac maniac also sent letters to the press. The difference is that these were ciphers and cryptograms along with crazy threats, and at the end of the letter there was always a crosshair symbol. The main suspect was a man named Arthur Lee Allen, but the evidence against him was only circumstantial and his guilt was never proven. And he himself died of natural causes shortly before the trial. Who was the Zodiac? No answer.

4. Unknown rebel (Tank Man)

This photograph of a protester facing a column of tanks is one of the most famous anti-war photographs and also contains a mystery: the identity of this man, called Tank Man, has never been established. An unidentified rebel single-handedly held off a column of tanks for half an hour during the Tiananmen Square riots in June 1989.

The tank was unable to avoid the protester and stopped. This prompted Tank Man to climb onto the tank and talk to the crew through the vent. After some time, the protester got down from the tank and continued his standing strike, preventing the tanks from moving forward. Well, then he was carried away by people in blue. It is unknown what happened to him - whether he was killed by the government or forced into hiding.

3. Woman from Isdalen

In 1970, the partially burned body of a naked woman was discovered in the Isdalen Valley (Norway). More than a dozen sleeping pills, a lunch box, an empty liquor bottle and plastic bottles, which smelled of gasoline. The woman suffered serious burns and carbon monoxide poisoning, 50 sleeping pills were found inside her, and she may have been hit in the neck. The tips of her fingers were cut off so that she could not be identified by her prints. And when the police found her luggage at a nearby train station, it turned out that all the labels on the clothes had also been cut off.

Upon further investigation, it turned out that the deceased had a total of nine aliases, a whole collection of different wigs and a collection of suspicious diaries. She also spoke four languages. But this information did not greatly help in identifying the woman. A little later, a witness was found who saw a woman in fashionable clothes walking along the path from the station, followed by two men in black coats - towards the place where the body was discovered 5 days later.

But this evidence was not very helpful.

2. Grinning Man

Usually paranormal events are difficult to take seriously and almost all phenomena of this kind are exposed almost immediately. However, this case seems to be of a different kind. In 1966, in New Jersey, two boys were walking along the road towards the barrier at night and one of them noticed a figure behind the fence. The towering figure was dressed in a green suit that shimmered in the lantern light. The creature had a wide grin or a grin and small prickly eyes that constantly followed the frightened boys with their gaze. The boys were then questioned separately and in great detail, and their stories matched exactly.

Some time later, reports of such a strange Grinning Man appeared again in West Virginia, in large numbers and from different people. Grinning even talked to one of them, Woodrow Dereberger. He identified himself as "Indrid Cold" and asked if there had been any reports of unidentified flying objects in the area. In general, he made an indelible impression on Woodrow. Then this paranormal entity was still encountered here and there until he disappeared completely.

1. Rasputin

Perhaps no other historical figure can compare with Grigory Rasputin in terms of the degree of mystery. And although we know who he is and where he comes from, his personality is surrounded by rumors, legends and mysticism and is still a mystery. Rasputin was born in January 1869 into a peasant family in Siberia, where he became a religious wanderer and “healer,” claiming that a certain deity gave him visions. A series of controversial and bizarre events led to Rasputin's employment as a healer in the royal family. He was invited to treat Tsarevich Alexei, who was suffering from hemophilia, in which he was even somewhat successful - and as a result acquired enormous power and influence over the royal family.

Rasputin, associated with corruption and evil, suffered countless unsuccessful assassination attempts. Either they sent a woman with a knife to him under the guise of a beggar, and she almost gutted him, or they invited him to the house of a famous politician and tried to poison him there with cyanide mixed into his drink. But that didn't work either! In the end, he was simply shot. The killers wrapped the body in sheets and threw it into the icy river. It later turned out that Rasputin died from hypothermia, and not from bullets, and was even almost able to extricate himself from his cocoon, but this time luck did not smile on him.

Whatever happens in life. Sometimes it’s pure mysticism.

Read mystical stories with a happy ending.

Taxi driver clairvoyant

I have always disliked my appearance. It seemed to me that I was the ugliest girl in the Universe. Many people told me that this was not true, but I didn’t believe it. I hated mirrors. Even in cars! I avoided any mirrors and reflective objects.

I was twenty-two, but I wasn't dating anyone. Guys and men ran away from me the way I ran away from my own appearance. I decided to go to Kyiv to take a break and unwind. I bought a train ticket and went. I looked out the window, listened to pleasant music..... I don’t know what exactly I expected from this trip. But my heart yearned for this city. This one, and not the other!

Time passed quickly on the road. I really regretted that I didn’t have time to enjoy the road as much as I should have. And I couldn’t take any photographs, since the train was moving unbearably fast. No one was waiting for me at the station. I even envied those I met.

I stood at the station for three seconds and headed to the taxi rank to get to the hotel where I had previously booked a room. I got into a taxi and heard: “Are you the girl who is not confident in her appearance and who still doesn’t have a soul mate?” I was surprised, but answered positively. Now I'm married to this man.

And how he knows all this about me is still a secret.

The most mystical stories

Pray, or stories of miraculous salvation

I was orphaned at an early age. One old woman took pity on me and taught me to read a prayer-amulet, and said:
- Do not be lazy. Get out of bed and read. The tongue will not fall off. But you will always be protected from troubles.
That's what I've always done. Now I’ll tell you about two unusual incidents from my life.

Inner voice. Story one

In my early youth I swam in the Amur. Nearby, a steamboat was pulling a barge upstream. I didn’t know that the barge, which has a curve at the base of the bottom, pulls under itself when moving, and I swam close to it. I felt like I was being pulled under the bottom of the ship. An inner voice said: “Dive.” I took a deep breath and dived. I endured it as long as I could. I surfaced - the barge was about fifteen meters away from me. If it weren't for my inner voice, I would have drowned.

Inner voice. Story two

And the second case. The area where I live is replete with rock deposits (something like limestone). From this stone, cellars have been built here for centuries. The stones were tightly fitted to each other; no cementitious mortar was used. To dismantle such a basement, you need to dig out a large layer of earth from above. And experienced masters do this. They break out the back wall from inside the basement, and then, retreating to the exit, gradually, one meter at a time, they collapse the vault. When I needed to tear down the basement, I did just that. I broke the back wall, and then someone called me:
- Grigoryich!

I crawled out of the basement - no one was there. I stood there and looked around - no one was there. Strange. I clearly heard that they called me. I stand in bewilderment, I even feel some kind of timidity. And then there was a roar. The entire vault of the basement collapsed. If I stayed inside, I would die! After this, decide whether or not to believe in otherworldly forces...

New mystical story

One Christmas the girls were telling fortunes

This story happened on the eve of the happy holiday year - Christmas! And you can’t call it anything other than a miracle. I was 19 years old and at that time I was experiencing a personal tragedy; my boyfriend left me very cruelly and went to live with my best friend.

The mood was not festive at all. I took a bottle of semi-sweet and, alone, sitting in the kitchen, began to cry about my bitter fate.

Then the doorbell rang, it was my girlfriends who came to visit me to share my grief with me, and a bottle of wine, of course.

Having gotten a little tipsy, someone offered to tell fortunes for the betrothed. Everyone laughed together, but agreed.

After writing the names of the men on pieces of paper, they took them out of the makeshift bag one by one. I came across the name “Andrey”. At that time, the only Andreev acquaintance I had was a cousin, and I was skeptical about such fortune-telling.

Suddenly one of my friends suggested continuing the fun outside and the whole crowd set off in search of adventure. As the Christmas fortune-telling continued, they began to run up to passers-by and ask for their name. And what do you think? “My” passerby’s name was Andrey. It was getting more interesting.

That same evening, in the park, I met my future husband... no, not Andrey! His name was Artem and I happily forgot about all these fortune telling.

5 years passed and on Christmas Eve, my husband and I were sitting and talking about the topic of children's baptism. Artem suggested that I give our daughter a middle name at baptism. To my silent question, he replied that he himself was given two names, the first Artem, and the second ANDREY!

When I remember the story from five years ago, I got goosebumps. And how can you not believe in the Christmas miracle?!

Mystical stories from life that are very difficult to explain from a logical point of view.

If you also have something to tell about this topic, you can absolutely free right now, and also support other authors who find themselves in similar difficult life situations with your advice.

The other day there was a quarrel with a relative. Personally, I would have long ago reduced communication with her to a minimum, but my mother stubbornly clung to her, because “there are no more relatives”, “this is not good”, “what if we need help, and besides her, there will be no one to help” .

About 20 years ago, when our family was going through difficult times, we often borrowed money from this relative. Everything was returned. She also helped resolve some organizational issues several times. She gave me expensive gifts as a child. I considered her the ideal woman and dreamed of being like her: beautiful, charming, popular with men, kind, rich. When I grew up, everything turned out to be a little different.

I have never been particularly naive, believing in dreams and miracles, but an incident that happened 2 years ago made me think and change my outlook on life.

The fact is that I have had poor eyesight for a long time, and I have already come to terms with it. But exactly 2 years ago, on the night of July 6-7 (the famous holiday of Ivan Kupala), a miracle happened. Waking up on the morning of July 7, I again saw with my own eyes 100% independently! I no longer needed glasses or contacts. By the way, medicine cannot explain such a case. And I considered this a miracle, a reward, a gift from higher powers. Of course, the next day my vision fell again and is the same now.

I’ll say right away that I am an incorrigible materialist, but the story that happened to me still causes me confusion. It is connected with mysticism quite relatively, but it actually happened, nothing was made up.

After the seventh grade in 1980, my family decided to move from the Kirov region to the Rostov region, closer to our relatives, where there was a lot of sun, warmth and abundance of fruit. My aunt and mother’s sister and her family lived three kilometers from Kamensk-Shakhtinsky on the banks of the Seversky Donets. My cousin, who was a year older than me, was an avid fisherman and spent time on the river from morning to night. I also became addicted to fishing. And so my brother and I once decided to organize night fishing.

I want to dedicate my confession to a man known by everyone, or almost everyone, by the nickname “Stranger.” I will try to tell in detail what prompted me to write my story.

More than six months ago, when quarrels began with my husband, trying to find answers to my problems on the Internet, I accidentally found the “Confession” website. Reading the comments, I saw the Stranger, not so much his mysterious avatar, but his statements, his points of view at some point came into contact with mine, touching my soul. I’m not talking about love, I love one man in my life, this is something spiritual to some extent or at the level of energy emanating from a person.

I won’t say that I consider myself one of his fans, since my attitude towards him is still twofold: I understood some of his statements, while others sometimes outraged me, but I learned from many of his views on life for myself. Has my personal life improved? It's not perfect yet, but it probably won't happen. A stranger is like a kindred spirit, without seeing his face, appearance, without knowing his age, just from his very presence on the site, even the site lives, in my opinion, a different life (women are charmed, men argue about interruptions). His comments are read by a special voice inside me. And during all the time on the site I could no longer feel what you felt when the Stranger commented.

This story happened to my father. This was several years ago. My parents have a dacha in the Krasnokutsky district of the Kharkov region. My father loves to wander through the forest and knows it well. The forest where he walks, not far from the dacha, is pine.

So, he says that he was once walking through the forest, and in a place where he had often been before. And then he sees that he is walking not through a pine forest, but through an oak forest! He also saw a pond there, which he had never seen in those places, but he knew for sure that there was no pond there. He got scared and began to look for a way out, guided, as he said, by the sun. After some time I found myself in the pine forest again.

I sometimes have prophetic dreams. Some of them are about how and who takes one of their loved ones or acquaintances to the next world.

I had a very strange and memorable dream about my mother-in-law. It’s as if my mother-in-law is lying on something, and a beautiful young woman is leaning over her and scolding her for something, pointing at me. I woke up and began to analyze. I remembered another dream related to my mother-in-law. I dreamed of some kind of hole or grave, earth, and my mother-in-law was burying my photograph. I thought maybe that young beautiful woman scolded her for this act?

This story happened literally tonight, and since then I have been looking at my cat with different eyes. In some ways it even resembles a horror film.

Actually the point is this. Last night I had a nightmare, and it involved this cat, by the way. Of course, there is nothing unusual about this; everyone has nightmares sometimes. And, in general, the nightmare, as it usually happens, reaches its climax and I woke up in the middle of the night and heard what was purring in my legs! That is, it was as if he was enjoying the fact that I was having a nightmare. In general, a cat never purrs just like that, only if you pet him or pick him up, but it never happens that he just lies there and purrs.

I have serious problem. I absolutely cannot control my thoughts, or rather, they are not even thoughts, but obsessions. Moreover, my favorite places and things can be associated with negative thoughts.

For example, I look at some place and immediately before my eyes there is some terrible picture (as if something bad is happening in this place). And it begins to seem to me that this place is now connected with what I imagined. I really don’t want this place to be associated with something bad now, but diametrically opposite sentences pop into my head, like “I really want it to be like this.”

I am 27 years old, I have two daughters, a husband, thank God, I have a place to live and what to live on, but there is one “but”.

I grew up in a large and very poor family. There are five of us parents, I am the middle one. I didn’t go to kindergarten, but I studied very well at school. Next comes college, university and family.

My paternal grandmother was kind of like a good man, but few people communicated with her, everyone was afraid of her and considered her a witch (and a black one). Even my mother and father himself somehow avoided her. When my grandmother fell ill (she was about 75 years old), my parents had to take her in, and I had to help, look after her, and I even became friends with her. She died 6 months later and that’s where it all started.