Due to the fact that my husband and I have often talked about my and his childhood lately, I asked him about the brightest day he has ever remembered. From the first person.



The brightest memory, unfortunately, is associated with the greatest fear. I came from school, I was 9-10 years old, I go into the yard and see a terrible picture. Probably, the child’s consciousness added a little gesture to the memories, but I remember this: in the courtyard of no one, absolute silence and the whole earth filled with bloody cloths, paper with bloody traces, everywhere red loci – everything was literally poured with blood. Naturally, I was frightened, the imagination began to paint a picture of the terrible massacre of my whole family.



I slipped down the fence and, lowering my head on my knees, grabbed her with my hands. The desire to cry restrained my thoughts of my further unpredictable fate. I don’t know how long I was sitting there, but my grandmother cried out from the house. I, not believing my happiness, ran to her, hugged and shouted something like, "Grandma, Grandma, you are alive, how well, I am so happy! “And I cried.

Further, I do not remember how it was, and what my grandmother replied to me.. she was probably very surprised by my reaction)



The very “moment of truth” I do not remember, well, that is, how I was reassured and explained what happened. But in fact it was so: my father and my baptist worked in the garage, the baptist scattered his leg with something, scattered heavily, after which he ran out into the yard and began to run from side to side.

The father grabbed a bite of newspapers and clothes and tried to stop the blood by attaching them to the foot of a running baptist.

Having seen all this from the window, the mother ran to the neighbor and asked him to take them to the injury, and everyone, except the grandmother, left, and she was just going to clean everything.

Everything went well, the saint is alive and healthy to this day.



For a few days I was afraid to fall asleep, as the fantasy offered me in the dream new and new alternative versions of what happened.



Mother, by the way, insists that there was very little blood, there was no "lush" at all, there were clothes and paper, but not so much)

Nevertheless, I still remember in detail a picture that can compete with many horror films.)