Read scary stories from real life about a cemetery. Scary stories about the cemetery and the dead

This story is more psychological than mystical.
In one village two families lived next door. In both families, by that time the children had already grown up and moved away. The men, who were previously friends, did not share something, quarreled and stopped communicating with each other. The women supported the attitude.
In the fall, Ivan (one of the neighbors) suddenly died of a heart attack.
The coffin with the deceased was placed in the living room. As expected, they curtained the mirrors, removed sharp objects, and sent telegrams to relatives. And then the wife of the deceased needed to go to a neighboring village. She comes to her neighbor and with tears in her eyes asks for help: to feed the cattle and look after the house - they say, she will be back tomorrow for lunch. There is nowhere to go - we need to help.
Evening came, the neighbor was getting ready to go fulfill what she had promised, and her husband started to protest (he had managed to get drunk by this time) - like “if you don’t go, I forbid you.” But the woman went anyway, answering her husband that it would not be humane.
She has arrived. She put a pot of feed on the stove to cook, but she didn’t, and she looked at the coffin with the dead man - it’s creepy to be alone with the dead man. But the deceased lies still.
Well, the pigs are fed, you can go home. She locked the door. That's it, it's not scary anymore, but that wasn't the case.
I came home, and my husband locked all the bolts and fell into bed drunk. She walked around the house, knocked on the windows, but did not get through. If it were summer, then it would be possible to sit out the night on the rubble, but the puddles outside were frozen. It’s already quite late, and I don’t want to go home and wake up the neighbors. Here it is already Street lights turned off. It's completely dark.
I remembered the saying that you should be afraid of the living, not the dead, and decided to return to the house with the dead man. So I did. She came, turned on the lights in the rooms, looked at the late Ivan (lying quietly), moved the chairs in the kitchen and lay down on them. And then, according to the law of meanness, the electricity was turned off...
As she later said, she had never been so scared in her life. It’s dark even if you see it, someone else’s house (where the candles or a flashlight is is unknown) and a pleasant neighborhood in looking dead person...
And then she hears the gate opening and someone entering the yard. Some screams, laughter, flickering light in the window, someone knocking on the glass. The woman happily rushed out of the house (the relatives of the deceased had arrived!), but the yard was empty, no one.
She doesn’t remember how she waited until morning. Soon she left her husband and was never able to forgive him for this nightmare.

My mother and I live with my grandmother, but we are building a house completely on the other side of the city. I'm 12 and have been living with my grandmother since birth. Her house is very close to the cemetery and school. When I bring my classmates to visit, they are horrified when they realize that our house is located opposite the cemetery. But I answer them with mockery. Like, what's so scary about that? I spent my whole life here and nothing happened... Looking at the cemetery I have no feeling of fear. I don’t look at a cemetery with the conclusion that the ground there is saturated with corpses. For me, this is just a place with crosses.. But for a long time, my grandmother told me that when passing by a cemetery you need to say hello to *spirits* Like, they look at you and wait, will you say hello to them? But I completely forgot about it..
One fine day.. My best friend Tanya and I agreed to go to the cinema in the evening, to the cartoon *Shrek 2* We are Shrek fans and didn’t refuse this) It was winter then.. The days were short and already at 8 pm it was getting terribly dark. It's like 12 o'clock at night. The movie ended, as we feared at 8. We lived nearby. But on different streets. There was not a large forest near the school. And behind this forest there was a street *Lesnaya* and my friend lived there.
When we got to school we split up. *we were separated by the damn forest* She’s going home, and I’m going home... On my own way. I walked quickly. Strangely, the lamp standing on our street did not turn on. But I didn’t attach any importance to this.
I was about 70-80 meters from the house when I heard slow footsteps behind me. I quickened my pace until I was almost running. Soon I heard the voice of an elderly grandmother. The voice was trembling, but in some places it was angry. Grandmother said that she could not find her mother’s grave. Buried in this very cemetery. I have already seen the burning light of a chandelier in the windows of my house. But my grandmother suddenly grabbed me by the hand and dragged me to the cemetery. I wanted to scream, but my voice seemed to have disappeared... Grandma was weak, so in the cemetery gates I grabbed the fence and didn’t let go. Grandma has disappeared...
I wiped the sweat of fear from my forehead and went home. Having reached very close to my house, I saw the silhouette of my grandmother at the gate. And she was waving her cane at the gate. Knocked. I felt terrified. I called my mother and told her to kick this grandmother out. Grandma either heard what I said and immediately disappeared.
Mom came out, there was no one there, only I stood scared at the gate. Mom asked what happened. Out of fear, not understanding what I was saying, I said that there was a grandmother there... Mom answered me that it seemed to me and did not believe me.
In the morning, it turned out that a grandmother came to everyone on our street and asked if they would help her find her mother’s grave. And upon hearing the answer, she disappeared, one might say evaporated into thin air.
A month later we moved to new house. At the end of the city. A year later, they started burying people there and made another cemetery. Right opposite our house. It's a shame and disgusting. Now I'm afraid of cemeteries, I don't advise you to go to dark time days next to the cemetery. You never know...

I continue to publish scary stories. For now, unfortunately, there will be no video stories yet. I don’t get around to reading the material I’ve already written due to the fact that I suddenly became a “early person.” And instead of night and evening vigils, I now sleep in the sleep of a righteous man. I think that soon I will again establish a flow of stories. I would like to tell my readers to share their stories. Either in the comments or sent them by email [email protected]

So, I bring to your attention two stories about the restless dead in Yakutia.

My story is connected with such a concept in the Yakut faith as “bypass” (“karitii”) - this is an analogue of aerial ordeals in Christianity. It is believed that after the death of a person, for some time his spirit does not leave the earth, but visits all the places where he visited during his life. When the spirit makes its rounds, some people may hear strange sounds and voices, and those who are especially sensitive may see it. Moreover, the very word “keritii” in the Yakut language contains an element of coercion in its meaning - the spirit does not make the rounds of its own free will, but is, as it were, forced.

My grandmother's sister often saw strange things when she was young. By the age of forty, her vision deteriorated; she underwent a couple of operations and, as a result, began to see very poorly. She herself explained this by saying that she was too vigilant, and the “others” did not want her to delve too deeply into their affairs. She told me quite scary stories from her life when I was a child. Here is a story that concerns that very detour.

That summer, a long-lived man died in our village. After the funeral, a couple of days passed, and the grandmother’s sister, along with the others, went to the field for haymaking (the deceased, naturally, also spent a lot of time in the haymaking during his lifetime, so his visit while walking around this place was quite logical). And then after lunch, in the midst of work, she suddenly heard strange sounds, like a dog howling mixed with crying sobbing. She stopped, looked around and saw that in the distance along the road some object like a racing goat was floating in the air, and someone was sitting on it. And on both sides of him, two dark silhouettes, reminiscent of human ones, hover in the air and beat him - beat him with some kind of sticks. The beaten one, in turn, emits that same pitiful inhuman howl. Grandmother's sister was scared and looked at other people, but no one except her noticed this. By that time, she was already accustomed to the fact that sometimes she sees what others cannot see, so she began to silently observe.

This whole strange procession floated past along the road and disappeared into the distance. Since my grandmother’s sister was in a field far from the road, she was never able to see these creatures up close, and she didn’t have the desire to. But at some point she simply realized - either by her voice or by her appearance - that central man on the “goats” (the one who is beaten) is the very dead person who was recently buried. This left a very painful impression on her - generally speaking, in Yakut tradition It is not believed that the rounds are accompanied by such a terrible beating, and the deceased was quite a decent person during his lifetime to be treated in this way after death.

My grandmother’s sister, telling me this, was sure that she had witnessed a detour. Then, after the funeral in the village, sometimes in the evenings she vaguely heard fuzzy voices and sounds flying as if from the sky, but saw nothing.

Story two: Walba's ghost

This happened in the 70s in Yakutia, in the Tattinsky ulus (as the regions of Yakutia are historically called). It all started from the moment our distant relative Seraphim. After drinking tea, he said that he wanted to go home to Walba, but due to the fact that there were not enough cars at that time (and there were no private ones at all), he asked us for a bicycle. Back then, almost everyone rode a bicycle - old and young, men and women, almost like in China. We had two bicycles, and his parents lent him a Ural.

Walba is located 33 kilometers north of Ytyk-Kyuel. Then there was no current federal highway, although the main trajectory now remains the same, but the race was different: we turned off a little earlier, and the road went through two fields. The first of them is called “Eney Alasa”. The road into the field enters from the eastern side, descends, goes under the hills along the northern side and leaves from the western side with an ascent past a small cemetery, then descends through a forest into another field. On each mound there is a grave - so to speak, everyone has their own mound.

Seraphim drove into this field in the evening, when the sun was just setting. He drove under the hills, got up to leave the field, and saw that on one of the graves a woman was sitting with her back to him and combing her hair. Seraphim was surprised - what kind of crazy woman found a place for a seat? When he got upstairs, he stopped and looked who she was. It was a young woman, her name was Christina, she hanged herself not long ago and was buried here.

Seraphim did not remember how he got home, which was about three kilometers. I came home feeling completely unwell with my heart. They barely pumped it out. But Christina then began to appear everywhere. That summer, I remember, Walba seemed to be in a state of siege. People were afraid to go out in the evening. A small tornado constantly came from the direction of the field where she was buried and disappeared near the house where she lived. After her death, one grandfather lived there. He, poor thing, was kicked out every night by Christina - then his grandfather couldn’t stand it and moved out. That summer I came to Walba with my grandmother, and after dinner she didn’t let us go outside to play. I remember they said that Christina met her best friend when she was tending cows. After this meeting, my friend also spent a long time in the hospital. And the most interesting thing is that the Russian drivers who brought cargo to Walba saw her, also sitting on the grave and combing her hair. They said that they asked the locals: “What kind of crazy woman is sitting on your grave scratching her hair?”

I remember how my grandmother grumbled that the woman who died a bad death was buried in a common cemetery, and even like an ordinary dead person. That is, without putting a clay pot on your head and placing it face up. They also nailed a star with flags to the gravestone.

Then winter came. And in April next year Seraphim's father Terenty, an old communist, bought several kilograms of salt and sprinkled it over the entire surface of the grave so that the salt and melted snow would be absorbed into the ground. No one has seen her since then.

From 04/06/2019, 12:08

Oh, that was a long time ago! I have just - just entered the university... The guy called me and asked if I wanted to go for a walk? Of course, I answered that I wanted to! But the question became about something else: where to go for a walk if you’re tired of all the places? We went through and listed everything we could. And then I joked: “Shall we go and wander around the cemetery?!” I laughed, and in response I heard a serious voice that agreed. It was impossible to refuse, because I did not want to show my cowardice.

Mishka picked me up at eight in the evening. We drank coffee, watched a movie and took a shower together. When it was time to get ready, Misha told me to dress in something black or dark blue. To be honest, I didn’t care what I was wearing. The main thing is to experience a “romantic walk”. It seemed to me that I would definitely not survive it!

We've gathered. We left the house. Misha got behind the wheel, even though I had a license for a long time. Fifteen minutes later we were there. I hesitated for a long time and did not leave the car. My beloved helped me! He offered his hand like a gentleman. If it weren’t for his gentlemanly gesture, I would have stayed in the salon.

.................................................................................................................................................

This story was told by Sofia Kazhdan. I present it here in the form in which it was told.

That evening I saw off the mother of my friend, who had lived in our small town for more than fifty years. I came home late in the evening and could not sleep.

Evgenia became a widow five years ago and lived literally a ten-minute walk from my house. Her daughter, Yulia, my childhood friend, begged her mother to move to live with her in another city.
- Mom, I want you to be close. I don’t want to wake up every morning with just one thought that you are there alone, a hundred kilometers from me and my grandchildren.

As luck would have it, the eyes are in literally stuck together, but there was no sleep. Several times a night I turned on the TV and picked up a book.
Then I decided to overcome myself. She turned off the TV, put down the book and, turning off the light, began to count.
“One... two... three... ten... eighty... one hundred thirty... two hundred and fifty...”

And then... Then the action unfolded according to the script of a science fiction film. Lying in bed, almost asleep, I heard a soft knock on the window in my sleep. Lazily getting up, she went to the window and, opening the curtain, was horrified.

On the road near my house there was a funeral home bus with a black stripe down the middle. From it, my acquaintances who had left this world and moved to the “OTHER” looked at me through the windows.

I felt my hands and toes getting colder, sweat forming on my forehead and nose, my legs becoming wobbly, and my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. Goosebumps began to run throughout my body.

Near my window stood the father of my childhood friend Yulka and the husband of Evgenia, who had to leave our town early in the morning, Uncle Lenya.
- Sonya, why are you looking at me so scared? - he asked and, smiling at me, continued, “I won’t do anything bad to you.” Get dressed and go outside... We need to talk...
I continued to stand and looked at the street through the window glass in horror.

People began to get off the bus. I personally saw many of them in the coffin. They were wearing the same things that their acquaintances and friends saw them in when they saw them off on their last journey.

Tamara approached Uncle Lena, former colleague my sister, who died of cancer, leaving behind a two-year-old son.
- Why don’t you come out to us? - asked Tamara, - Don’t be afraid of us... We won’t do anything bad to you... You need to be afraid of the living, not the dead...
- What are you doing here? - I asked in fear, thinking that DEATH had come for me, - I don’t want to die! Don't want! It's bad there, it's scary and it's dark...
“Look at me,” Uncle Lenya said and smiled again, “Look at me carefully... Do I look bad?”

And in fact... Uncle Lenya was very often sick for the last ten years of his life and was very overweight. In addition to asthma, he had a bunch of other side diseases. Now standing in front of me was a fit, lively man with clear eyes.

- I live in great place“,” he said, “in pine forest... This place is ideal for my health.
- What are you doing here? - I asked, slurring my tongue, - You are all dead.
“We came to visit you, earthlings,” one of my good friends, who died in a car accident, intervened in the conversation.

I don’t remember what happened next... and how many minutes or seconds I stood there open mouth. Then... Then I asked them:
- What's there? On the other side of life? Is it scary there? Badly?
“No,” said Uncle Lenya, “THE DAMMIT is not as scary as you paint him... There’s a different life there... Other concepts about life...”

- Do you want to go back... to us... to Earth?
- We want peace... We want the Earthlings not to touch us, not to offend us and to remember that we are always with you, we are watching your life...
- Are you following? - I asked in fear.
- So, I came to see how my wife would leave our house... It’s hard for her to do this... It’s hard... So I came to help her, to support her...

“Uncle Lenya,” I asked after a short silence, “Do you want to come to us?” In our lives?
- My mission on Earth is over... I did everything I could... Now I’m home.
- At home? - I asked in bewilderment, - How is it at home? I’m at home... And you’re not at home... You’re in a coffin...
“Ha-ha-ha,” the dead laughed merrily.

“Sonya,” said Tamara, “You are the guest... The earthly guest... And the coffin... So we are leaving your world...”
- Just don’t try to tell me that it’s good there... That there is an afterlife, and everyone lives happily ever after, like in a fairy tale.
- Why does everyone live happily ever after, like in a fairy tale?! No... Life there is not heavenly... There you also need to work and live... There is eternity... And here there is a stop...

I no longer remember what I asked, what they told me, I only remember that I asked several questions that to this day make me think about a lot.
— How often do you visit us, and how often do you want to see us?
“Almost none of us are drawn to Earth... But there are exceptions... Grandparents who have little grandchildren behind them want to see the kids... They come to them at night when they are fast asleep,” said Uncle Lenya.
“I want to see my son... Hold him close... I left him so small, so helpless... I left him when he needed me so much... I don’t visit him very often... I don’t have time for this,” with annoyance in his voice said Tamara.

“We have our own lives, and don’t bother us over trifles... Don’t come to the grave whenever you want... Don’t disturb us... Don’t torment us and don’t torment our souls... There’s a church for that... Go there... Pray for the repose of our souls,” Uncle Lenya said.
- Why?
- You are invading another world... A world incomprehensible to you... The time will come, and you yourself will understand everything...

- Who feels bad there, in this OTHER world?
- Who feels bad? To the one who sentenced himself and took his own LIFE?... This is scary... This is very scary... WE, our world, do not accept these people, and in yours they are already dead... They try to move in with the dead, but this is impossible... God gave man life , and only God can take it away from us.
- Uncle Lenya, don’t scare me. Are you saying that a murderer... A person who took the life of another lives better in your world than the one who decided his own destiny?
- Probably yes... These people are slaves... They accept newcomers... They work with them... They undergo adaptation with them... They teach them to live according to our laws...

The alarm clock rang in the room...

I stood in the middle of the room in my clothes and was shaking all over with fear... To this day I still cannot understand what it was: A DREAM OR...

And if OR...

Stuttering, I began to talk about the night aliens.
After the story was told, there was silence in the accounting department. An elderly woman interrupted her.
“What a miracle,” she said, “Before, those people who took their lives were buried outside the gates of the cemetery and they were not buried in the church...

A year later, my friend comes to me and says:
- I had one like this life situation... I didn’t see a way out... My mother died, my husband left for someone else... I didn’t want to live at all... I decided to cut my wrists... I filled the bathtub with water, took a knife and... At that moment I remembered your story about the night guests... I felt scared... Scary that in that incomprehensible world I will suffer even more. Two days later I met Sashka... Now we are waiting for our son... There are simply no hopeless situations... If you can’t fight, then you just need to wait out this unfortunate period.

I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT WE ARE NOT DYING FOR ALL...
THAT THE SOUL WILL LIVE AFTER OUR DEATH... BUT THAT WORLD is unknown to us... And no one gave us the right to invade it. If it exists, THAT WORLD, then people there live according to their own laws...