Photo from open sources
In 1590, barbarian witches from Scotland caused an unprecedented a storm at sea and sunk the ship of King Edward. Are there any any examples of effects on storms and hurricanes closer to our days? It turns out there is. Tells Anatoly Strozhkov: “In 1948 I was ten years old. Then from my Trans-Ural village called Joutla needed to deliver one prisoner to district kutuzku in the village of Shatrovo, which is twenty kilometers south of our village. The guards equipped my godfather, Strozhkov Filimon Vasilyevich, a front-line soldier, a strong and energetic man. IN those years there were no cars, carts because of the hot hay pore was found, and Philemon with a berdanka at the ready led the prisoner on foot underway. Who was this prisoner – or a deserter hiding in forest haunts, or a criminal who was waiting for time in our unported villages – I don’t know.
Halfway, near Makarov’s log, the prisoner slowed down, and Filimonov’s gun barrel buried in his back. There is no way to allow this it was impossible. Without looking back, the convict threw his palm away the trunk to the side, punching a guard in the face, knocked the guard into the grass, kicked to him in the barrel, took the gun and was such. And twenty kilometers to to the west of this place behind the spits, swamps and blockages lay the village of Antrack, surrounded by three lakes. At the largest lake on a chamomile meadow turned green on a flat bank, rye spiked at a distance. A flock of white-footed birches looked in a blue mirror of water. In the sky a white handkerchief floated a cloud. And among this peaceful picture under the evening when my godmother with a fingal under my eye, without a gun came in district police department, at this very time an escaped prisoner from Filimonov’s gun shot himself. The cuckoo in the grove was silently afraid, and the unfortunate one fell among the daisies. And the inhabitants of Anthrac had to
“… unexpectedly Bury a young shooter, Without church singing, without incense, Without all that the grave is strong. ”
Collective farm chairman wrapped in hay flow and chores pores, ordered three or four guys to take the coffin to the cemetery and dig in faster. And that was a big mistake. Summer of the 48th and so it was roast. And after this incident, the heat completely dragged on. Few Moreover, they began to notice that the rain was beginning to gather, somewhere in the distance there was thunder after Shishimore, but the clouds sidestepped the fields of Anthrac. The crops were dry without rains. Dogs, sticking out their tongues, hid in mugs, chickens walked, spreading their wings. Old people blamed collective farm leadership: you cannot bury a suicide in a cemetery, a place for him outside the fence. Because of this, God’s punishment is land intolerable. A few more days without rain, and the bread will die. A the secretary of the party organization in Anthrac was Strozhkov Kornil Abrosimovich, paratrooper, man I will always be grateful, while I am alive, for his good attitude towards me. By part-time uncle was also a hut, that is, the head reading room. And then one evening, when Uncle Coma in the hut-reading room hemmed newspapers, a deputation of local people appeared to him old people. Grandfathers came to ask permission to hold an important prayer ritual to neutralize the great sin of burial on rural graveyard of a man who laid hands on himself. Uncle was young, hot, communist, and therefore atheist. He tried to explain to the elderly that everything they conceived is darkness and superstition. So the old people left with nothing. But they didn’t go at all home. Two harnessed to the old farm’s collective farm yard in gig with a barrel and brought to the cemetery water from the smallest lakes. (This little lake was notorious. It wasn’t fish, cattle did not go here to a watering place. There was some kind of water a dark brown shade. There was a floating island on the lake with a growing on it a birch. Depending on the direction of the wind, the island nailed now to one bank, then to another.) Other grandfathers with an old ax, which a week specially for the ritual stood under a black shelf baths, cut down a thick aspen stake. With this stake, the grave of the unfortunate arrow struck to the grave. After that, having made a prayer, pulled out a plug and a stream of water aimed at the hole at grave. And interestingly, while the water flowed from the barrel, we started gather clouds. When the barrel was empty, poured and began to gain rain force, long-awaited rain. And when the conspirators broke up houses, a small rainfall fell on the village. Thundered continuously thunder and lightning flashed. The next day the village was a picture devastation. The street was full of ravines. In the gardens – onions, garlic, dill, tomatoes – everything was driven into the ground. Someone ripped off the roof, someone washed and brought down a log of wood. Closer to dinner by uncle came dumb old men with knapsacks on their backs. Have come to obey that you have done so many troubles. After all, the forty-eighth year separated from the bad memory of the thirty-seventh of a decade … Uncle was moved by the readiness of the elderly to go to the district bullpen and let them go home. The power of medieval witches is possible questioned, explain by coincidence. The same explain the saving rain in the post-war Anthrac. But there is still examples. In the Bryansk region in the twenties there was a village Atrakin. And across the river opposite was the village of Zaule. It grew expanded and outstripped Atraquin in size, and then completely swallowed up this village. Now it can not be found on the maps. And in the late twenties of the last century the extreme hut in Atrakini suddenly caught fire. Fire could be dealt with. But suddenly flew such a wind that the flame rose a roaring whirlwind and sparks blew right on the houses standing in the wind. People rushed to pull out clothes tubs, to drive cattle. Screams, lamentations, panic. And here from the nearest behind the burning house of the hut an old man came out with an ancient wooden stupa. Oh Why, it would seem, to save such good? But people knew that the old man in vain to mess with the shed with a piece of wood shashel will not. And so It happened. Grandfather said a prayer and then sent a stupa bell towards the wind. And in the sight of the whole village, the wind changed the opposite direction. And all the houses whose roofs are already began to smoke, were saved. Only the last house burned down. Reason the fire seems to have become an unattended samovar. About the case in I know Anthrake from eyewitnesses-relatives. And the third case with by turning the movement of air masses during a fire told me an extraordinary woman born in this village, Xenia Eumenovny. There lived the Mishakov family – Evmen Logvinovich and Stepanides Emelyanovna. They had eight children. Worked in the summer collective farm. And in winter, the head of the family went to the mines in the Donbass. All were full, dressed, shod, healthy and well-groomed. During the war with Germany, denounced by the partisan traitor Mishakov, Eumen was shot dead. Later, the Magyar punishers drove away all those associated with partisans, in the vegetable store, they rolled in a barrel of burning resin and brought down the entrance. Here’s a gas chamber. In this camera Stepanida Emelyanovna also died. Ksenia Evmenovna went through after the war, the Nazi concentration camp left for Sakhalin. Was growing there in his yard of pigs and gobies: just in those years the Brezhnev food program was promoted. Now she lives in Moscow and fully justifies the title of “woman-maker”, which friends awarded her: sews, knits, grows fruits and vegetables, can remove spoilage, the evil eye and even such a cruel slander, which is popularly called “stake in the chest.” War Water Time Fires Islands