Why can't you live near a cemetery. Horror stories

If you live near a cemetery

From a letter: “When my husband went missing, I waited for him for almost three years. All this time I lived with his mother, who had ruffled my nerves before, and after we were left alone with her, as if she had broken the chain. Just imagine, on every corner this woman was shouting that it was my “hahals” who had killed her son, and the body was buried in the forest. In general, I could not stand it and began to exchange apartments. Then she told me:

- I won't let you nice apartment move in, and don’t dream, gas chamber.

She said and did. If the option is suitable, she does not agree to any: either high, then low, then far, then close. She brought me to the point that I was ready to go into the doghouse, if only the children would no longer listen to scandals. As a result, I settled in a house next to the cemetery. Of course, my mother-in-law and I parted as enemies, as if we had not lived together for twenty years. She didn’t even think about her grandchildren - how will they live in such a hole? She did everything to hurt me harder for the last time.

But there is nothing to do. The children and I began to listen to how funeral marches were played in the cemetery for half a day, how hearses drove up and how grief-stricken relatives sobbed out loud. I had neither the strength nor the desire to look at the monuments, crosses and people in black, so as soon as we moved in, we curtained the windows with thick curtains and began to live like in a crypt.

Three weeks have passed since I settled in a new place. I was doing household chores when I heard something rattle on the stairs. I looked out - I see a neighbor fell. The products that she was carrying in her bags scattered down the stairs, milk spilled. Apparently, she stumbled on a step and fell to the floor, but unsuccessfully: she twisted her leg and now she can’t get up. Of course, I helped her up and took her to the apartment. And then she went to the stairs and collected the fallen products.

When I returned to the apartment, the neighbor was sitting on the bed and crying.

- Does it hurt so much? I sympathized. - Maybe call a doctor?

But the neighbor refused, saying that she was crying not from pain. I am very sociable by nature and quickly got her talking.

“This place is cursed,” she complained. Rarely does a day go by without incident. Although it happens to everyone who lives near the cemetery.

I began to calm her down, said that she must be exaggerating.

“I have been living here for a month now, but so far everything is fine,” I added. “Of course, it’s unpleasant to hear a funeral march every morning, but you can get used to everything.

The neighbor then looked at me somehow strangely and said:

“I won’t tell you anything, you’ll soon see and understand everything yourself.

And indeed, from that very day, troubles rained down on us as if from a cornucopia. First, the son was scalded with boiling water, then the daughter was diagnosed with diabetes.

And one night I woke up strange sound. As I remember now, it was three o'clock. I don’t know why, I went to the window, as if someone was pulling me there. Curtains, as always, were tightly closed. I slowly pushed the curtain aside and recoiled in horror. Directly in front of me was a woman about my age. Her bluish face in the light of a street lamp seemed like some kind of terrible mask: the corners of her lips were lowered down, as if she was about to cry, but changed her mind and froze. On the head of the woman was a white, not very clean handkerchief, from under which a strand was knocked out. blonde hair. On her forehead she had a whisk, which is usually placed on the forehead of the dead! Terrified, I could neither move nor scream, and just stood there, clinging to the curtain. Silently, unhurriedly, the woman turned her back to me and slowly walked towards the cemetery gates.

After the nightmare I experienced, I managed to fall asleep only in the morning, and of course I overslept.

I tried to come up with explanations for what had happened, and although they were one more ridiculous than the other, I clung to them like a drowning man at straws. At first, I convinced myself that someone, at the request of my mother-in-law, played this terrible performance. Then she told herself that anyone could joke like that, only for such jokes you need to be completely crazy, and that woman did not look like a crazy woman. But then I thought that I was not such an expert to distinguish crazy from normal people, and that woman could very well be crazy, which I just had not seen before.

But then misfortunes began to happen to me with enviable regularity, and they could no longer be explained by a mere coincidence. First, I was warned about layoffs at work. Secondly, they cut open my bag on the bus and pulled out all the money along with prescriptions for medicines for children. I cried, but I had no choice but to take my only value - my husband and I wedding rings and take them to the pawnshop. I think it is not necessary to say that they offered me mere pennies for them. Then I went to the guys who were standing next to the pawnshop and buying up gold. After haggling, I still managed to raise the price a little. When I had already removed the money and turned to go home, a guy ran past me and dropped my wallet on the go. I called out to him, but he had already turned the corner. Picking up my wallet, I opened it, and then a fat woman came up to me and said:

- Wow! Yes, you found the money.

Unceremoniously taking the purse from my hands, she said:

God said to share. We will not take this to the police,” she winked at me, “the cops will take it anyway, we will divide the money.

Without counting, she pulled out about half of the money from the pack, and put the rest, along with her wallet, into my hands and quickly left. No matter how ashamed I was, I have to admit that in my heart I rejoiced: I desperately needed the money. But I didn’t move even five steps away from the scene, when a guy who had lost his wallet immediately jumped up to me, only this time he was not alone, but with some healthy man.

“I was told that you, lady, picked up my wallet,” his voice sounded menacing.

I handed him his wallet, he opened it and said that it did not contain all the money, accused me of being a thief and had already transferred part of the money to his accomplices. I was indignant, but it turned out as if I was making excuses. In general, they took away not only my wallet, but also all the money that I received for the rings. I was so upset that I barely made it home.

Having roared, I began to think and came to the conclusion that the neighbor was right - this house brings continuous misfortunes. In fact, I've never felt so bad before.

That same night, I woke up to a sound that sounded like fingernails scratching glass. My legs themselves carried me to the window, and I opened the curtain. That woman was standing outside the window again! If I hadn't been afraid to frighten the children, I would have yelled with all my might, and so we stood and silently looked into each other's eyes. For a second, I even thought that her face came to life. I watched the ghost until it disappeared through the cemetery gates, and then, exhausted, I sank to the floor right by the window. I didn't believe that all this was happening to me.

The next day, a neighbor knocked on my door. I opened the door for her, and she gave me a warning from the housing department. I have a rent arrears. Twisting the leaflet, I said that there was still no money, since I was fired. I could no longer contain the tension and burst into tears right in front of my neighbor. I remembered my whole life: quarrels with my mother-in-law, children's illnesses, my unfortunate husband, with whom we lived very well, my dismissal and poverty. All this time, the neighbor silently looked at me, and then suddenly came up and hugged me tightly. Roaring, I told her about everything that happened to us after we moved into this house. I told her about the night guest.

“Wash up,” the neighbor pushed me to the bathroom door. - Wash your face and let's go, I'll show you something.

A little later we were already walking towards the cemetery. She led me to one grave, and I saw a photograph on the monument, and on it - my night guest.

- She? the neighbor asked.

I nodded my head, unable to speak out of fear.

Taking my hand, the neighbor led me back home. From the horror that seized me, I was shaking all over so that my teeth didn’t fall on my teeth. When we entered the room, the neighbor told how, after the appearance of the ghost of this woman, her son, who was serving in the army at that time, died, and she herself fell ill with asthma. After that, many more misfortunes happened in her life. Then I remembered all the circumstances of our acquaintance with her.

After I received the notification, the ghost did not appear again. You will not believe it, but, still unable to stand it, I myself went to her cemetery. There was no fear at that moment, perhaps because it was daytime and the sun was shining brightly. Finding the right grave, I stopped at a shabby fence. The grave was overgrown with grass and looked abandoned. Apparently, no one visited the deceased. Trying not to look at the photograph, I began to tidy up the grave, pulling out the dry grass and raking up the leaves. Having managed, I nevertheless decided and began to carefully examine the photograph of the deceased. In the light of the sun, she did not seem either scary or dangerous, rather, she was beautiful. Neat, slightly raised eyebrows, as if the woman in the photograph is surprised at something, a graceful neck, delicate facial features. The dress, fitting a lush chest, is decorated with amazing lace. For some reason I really wanted to talk to this woman.

- Lyuba (I read the name on the monument), tell me, what do you want? Am I somehow to blame? Do you think I'm happy?

And then it kind of broke through me. Now I don’t even remember what I said then, but, apparently, I told the deceased about all my troubles and fears. I must have looked terribly stupid. If someone had been watching me at that moment, they would definitely have decided that I was not myself. But as I told her my story, it became easier and easier for me. When I left, I said goodbye to Lyuba as to an old friend, with whom we were united by misfortune.

Only her misfortune was that her life was taken away, and with it her happiness. My trouble was that, continuing to live, I forgot about what joy is. And at night I had a dream: Lyuba entered my room, but not in the form of a terrible ghost that frightened me at night. She was like that beautiful woman, which I saw in the photo in the light of the sun. She sat down on my bed and spoke:

- Listen and remember. Your husband is paying off his debts, you can say he was sold into slavery. They were taken away in a car in which products are transported. They knocked out his eye and beat off his kidneys. He is still alive and working. He is guarded and, in order not to escape, is drugged. The same unfortunate people work with him, like himself. From drugs, they gradually go crazy and soon they will no longer remember themselves. You won’t see your husband again, he will die with those people. You should sell your apartment to a funeral home and buy a new one yourself, away from here. You will never have a husband again, but your children will be with you to the end. Goodbye.

So saying, she disappeared as if melted away. I woke up from my own sobs. I saw my dream (or not a dream?) so clearly and clearly that I remember absolutely everything, even the smell of smoldering clothes, rotten leaves and earth, which appeared after Lyuba's visit. He still hovered in the room for a long time, as if the ghost was still around ...

Two days passed, and a man and a woman came to me from the funeral home. They began to persuade me to sell them an apartment for an office. They said that they wanted to rebuild the entire first floor into a shop for ritual supplies. According to them, I realized that all the residents happily agreed. Then I was still surprised how quickly the words of my night guest came true. Later I moved to another area. The real estate agency found us an inexpensive but good apartment, and now I remember with horror that house near the cemetery.”

People living near the cemetery need a special amulet. Even under my grandmother, I happened to hear many terrible stories that happened to such people.

First of all, those who live near the cemetery need to hang a crucifix over the front door. The amulet is read, going around the rooms in a circle and crossing windows and doors with fingers. You have to walk backwards.

Save, Lord, my soul

And keep me safe

From the wandering soul of a restless soul in the night,

Rising before her time from her swaddling clothes,

Having no place of rest,

Which does not hold any cover of the earth,

Not a cross at the feet

Not an icon in their heads

Not a nail in the coffin

But only your word forbidden

She will be the law.

I trust in You, Lord

Like a holy and indestructible fortress.

Now and ever, forever and ever. Amen.

An old cemetery was spread out on a high hill, even the sloping slopes kept someone's remains in themselves. As soon as a good downpour passed, yellowish skulls and other parts of mortal bodies, buried one on one, began to peep out from under the bare roots. The cemetery had not been buried for a long time (probably they thought that “six floors” would be enough), and it towered majestically in the middle of the village. Houses were built around it, and sometimes only a small path or fence separated the city of the dead from the village of the living. A young family lived in such a house, which was engaged in raising pigs and subsequently selling meat. The family grew up two twin girls seven years old.
It happened somehow in the village of grief: a son of one family died at the age of five, but the way this death happened is still remembered with a shudder ...
His father’s brother died, and the whole family went to see him off on his last journey, naturally they took the little one. He went up to the coffin to look at the uncle, and grabbed the edge with his hands, stood up on his toes and ... a chair leg broke off under the coffin (apparently she was on good kept a word), and he collapsed right on the boy. The numb uncle who flew out of the coffin covered the child, spewing streams of smelly liquid from himself ... Uncle was a core since childhood, was registered, so the corpse was not opened and was not taken to the morgue. Respectively " inner world' remained untouched. The boy screamed wildly and died of a broken heart...
The parents decided not to bury the child far, and despite the ban on burials, they dug a grave for him in the old cemetery, right between the grave of his great-grandmother and the pig breeder's fence ...
The season for the transition of pigs to lard and meat was open, they were slaughtered for three days, then they were handed over or sold on the market themselves. The rest was prepared for the winter in the form of stew, sausages and saltisons. The weather was hot, a lot of blood disappeared, and what they didn’t sell and didn’t let into their own sausage, they gave to the dogs. The enterprising father of the family would stick a bowl of intestines and blood through the hole in the fence right into the cemetery and go about his business, and the dogs, smelling the smell of fresh flesh, put up a terrible fight. The cup overflowed onto the ground, everything else stretched into different sides and all this happened at the grave of a long-suffering boy crushed by a dead uncle. All the evidence was naturally eaten at once, the remnants of the blood were absorbed into the ground, and the parents who came could only complain about the revelry of the dogs that trampled the child's grave.
And after a while, the twins began to complain that someone scares them at night. Complaints became more and more frequent and the father decided to spend the night in the nursery.
Midnight came, the moon was shining brightly in the dark sky, somewhere nearby a bittern was crying. Suddenly, the man heard a pop Entrance door. He walked carefully to the nursery door and froze. Someone's squelching steps were heard from the corridor, as if someone was walking through puddles. The footsteps approached, the handle on the door turned and it slowly opened. The man felt his hair moving on his head .. A dead boy stood in front of him, in his hands he held a wit from the fence, and his whole body was covered in blood.
“Oh my God!” the man exclaimed, and at the same time, the boy drove a spire into his leg and, turning around, disappeared into the corridor. The wife rushed to the wild cries of the husband, the frightened children burst into tears, and even the workers helping him at that time woke up in the summer kitchen.
In the morning with a bandaged leg, the man went to the cemetery. He did not find anything suspicious there, the grave was in place, the monument too. The nighttime incident looked like a dream, if not for the pierced leg ...
But he was not going to give up, the next night he put the children in his bedroom with his wife, and again lay down in the nursery. But midnight passed, and it was quiet in the house, the roosters already sang, but the visitor did not appear. Delighted by this circumstance, the father returned to his bedroom and almost went crazy ... His whole family was butchered in the same way as he butchered pigs and lay in a heap on the bed. The man was imprisoned for the murder of his family, but he did not stay long, hanged himself in the cell ...
The house fell into disrepair and soon the whole yard was overgrown with grass, the fence collapsed and the boundaries of the cemetery moved closer. Dogs sit on the boy’s grave out of habit, but for some reason every day there is one torn to pieces ...

A cemetery is a special piece of land used for the burial of the dead. This is a centuries-old and most common method of neutralizing the dead with the help of earth. Cemetery: This word is associated with something creepy.

After all, a cemetery means death, death means loss, and losing loved ones has always been, is and will be scary for a person.

Living next to a cemetery is a kind of neighborhood with the otherworldly life. What does the church think about living near a cemetery? The priests in the church say that according to the church, there are no prohibitions! It is not allowed to live directly in the cemetery, and there are no known restrictions regarding living near. It is a mistake to believe that the cemetery is a negative, rather it is a place where all the negativity disappears.

The cemetery is a sad, mournful side of human existence: sometimes people are in grief at the cemetery only at the time of the funeral of loved ones, and after going to the grave it comes down to a sense of peace.

As for the energy of the house located next to the cemetery, everything here depends on the mood of the household members themselves, on what they invest in it.

The cemetery next to the house is a place of power, the energy from which each person decides for himself how to use it. The main thing is not that it is near, but how a person relates to it. If a person wants peace, the cemetery will give him peace, if he wants to harm someone around him, then the cemetery will not stand aside.

Enough important place in the life of every person is a cemetery, whether he wants it or not. A person may never visit the cinema, the library, the circus, the museum, abroad and somewhere else, but he will definitely visit the cemetery more than once. There is a cemetery in Russia near almost every village. The villages are so small that he left the house - here is the cemetery. And those who live at the end of the village, in general, as a rule, live near the cemetery. People live there permanently and, as a rule, are not going to move. In addition, rural cemeteries are much smaller than urban cemeteries. There are no high-rise buildings in the villages and the windows usually face the road, which is why the cemetery does not loom before the eyes of the residents. But in cities, there are mostly high-rise buildings and city cemeteries are very clearly visible from the windows.

For most people, the very sight of a cemetery brings bad thoughts. That is why such people, living near the cemetery, will experience a feeling of constant depression. Although there are those who can easily walk through the cemetery even at night. It is for them that there is nothing terrible in the vicinity of the cemetery. A significant inconvenience for such people would be construction next door, incessant noise - that's terrible. Sometimes living people pose a greater danger than the dead. Or maybe the house is located near a non-functioning cemetery, where it is always quiet and peaceful. And if a person likes an apartment, it will be hard for him to refuse it. Just after a while, a person gets used to living near a cemetery and stops paying attention to what is happening.

Why are people afraid not only of the sight, but of the very word "cemetery"? There is only one explanation for this - beyond the gates of the cemetery, the unknown begins, that is, something that a person cannot recognize. After all, having learned that there on the other side no one will ever come back and tell others about what is happening somewhere there ...

What worries people living near the cemetery in the first place. This is a violation of the sanitary zone. After burial, the corpses decompose in the ground. In the spring, when the snow melts, there is a danger that decomposition products will enter the groundwater that feeds the wells. You can get used to the location of the cemetery, but it is unlikely to be a health hazard. Neighborhood with a cemetery negatively affects the psyche of people. It is not pleasant enough to look out the window and think that everyone will be there sooner or later.

You can often hear that people with mental disabilities or suspicious personalities are often drawn to the cemetery. There is only one conclusion: everyone decides to live near the cemetery or not.