What if the wife is a witch? Road stories. If the wife is a witch My wife is a witch what should I do

I often think that roads are threads. The threads of which Great master creates a canvas of Time, full of colorful events, amazing meetings, amazing destinies.
Forks, intersections - this is a change in the pattern on the Canvas. The more often they meet on the way, the more diverse the pattern of your life.

I see this very old man almost every morning. In such early hour it smells strongly of fusel-tobacco fumes and something else. I meet him at the same place - at the crossroads, by the garbage cans. He digs into them with rapture.
At first I did not notice him and passed as if by an empty place.
I don’t know what was unusual about this man, why I paid attention to him. But after some time, I realized that the person works as a cleaner and every morning takes out slop from a nearby canteen to the trash can. And he rummages through garbage cans, because he looks for completely edible pieces of food in them and feeds stray cats.

The other day I was in the forest. What was my surprise when I saw the same person on the path. In his hands was a knife and a bag of mushrooms.
We suddenly bowed, like old friends.
-Here, I decided to go for mushrooms, hunt, - said the man. - You too?
“No, I don’t know how to pick mushrooms,” I laughed. Yes, I'm walking.
- What is there to know? he wondered. - If you want, I'll show you edible ones. If you're not afraid... of me.
“I'm not afraid,” I replied.
And we went along the path. The man introduced himself as Alexander, and while we were walking, he managed to tell the story of his life ...

It is believed that tales about witches, werewolves and evil spirits are all women's entertainment.
But the man's story surprised me. I bring it as soon as I hear it.
- My wife is a witch. Ex-wife. Don't look at me like you want to say that I'm only saying this to tarnish her name. No, she really is a real witch.
I was 24 when I saw her eyes. Black, almost bottomless, deep, like whirlpools, and inside there is a demonic flame. Flashes. Ask what she was wearing, what hair, I won’t say. But the eyes...
I lost my peace and sleep. I wanted to run without looking back, no matter where, no matter how long, just to see that girl again, to catch that viciously demonic look.
"Be mine," he whispered to her furtively.
- Won't you cry? She laughs, throwing her head back.
Could not resist, scooped up in an armful, kissed, and the head went around.
-Do you cry from this, you are my happiness! – just exhaled.
- Well, look, - threatens with a finger.

We got married quickly. Somehow I caught myself thinking that I simply don’t remember part of my life - everything is in a fog. He swam and swam. He went to work in the morning and returned in the evening. How the robot ate, how the robot went to bed. Life suddenly lost colors, smells and sounds. I felt like I was living in rubber jelly. One day is similar to another, their sequence is replaced: night-day-night-day.

I did not believe in the stories of the neighbors who said that my wife was friends with the devil himself. What the hell, when communism is about to be built and people fly into space? All this is prejudice and grandmother's fairy tales.

But in the evenings, some people came to my wife. They gave a prearranged signal, she let the newcomer into the house, locked herself in the kitchen with him.
At such moments, weakness, wild fatigue and sleep rolled over me.
I could not even once again see who came and why.

My wife explained to me that she helps people find lost things or gives advice that helps them in life. Which sometimes helps people get their enemies out of the way.

And then I saw her cards. Not playing, but others. Such strange ones, a large deck, there were a lot of them there. You know, the maps smelled of antiquity. The wife kept them wrapped in an old handkerchief, kept them at the head.

Found them by accident. Above the bed hung a small painting, a reproduction of girls dancing in a round dance. One morning, the picture fell behind the headboard. Helped to get it, found a bundle. I got angry. Shaking a deck in front of his wife's face and shouting that there is no place for this attribute of obscurantism in my house.
And she only grinned, silently took the cards from my hands and, without taking her eyes off, said:
-Do you want me to tell you?
I felt funny. What can these scraps of cardboard tell about me?
-Well, well, try, - I answered my wife.

We sat down in the kitchen. The wife lit a candle, laid out a handkerchief on the table, fanned out the cards on the handkerchief.
She laid out the cards in a pyramid. One at the top, then two, then three. And so on up to seven cards.
She turned over all the cards at once, closed her eyes, threw her head back. Then she stared at me with unblinking eyes.
The frost got me.
I did not recognize my young wife, a very old woman was sitting in front of me! Her hair is in tufts, a holey scarf is tied around her head. Only the eyes are the same.
My wife did not look at me for long, while she whispered something.
Then she put her hand to her ear, as if listening to something.
And then I saw something that I can not give an explanation to this day. I saw what the cards say! Yes, there were human figures on many of the cards, and I saw their mouths open and close. Some cards spoke sluggishly. Some were screaming, but they were all alive!

I didn't hear them, but my wife seemed to be doing great. Because she told me everything about me in such detail that no one but me could know. After fortune-telling, the wife wrapped the cards back in a handkerchief. I fell into a semi-conscious state.
I woke up - in front of me was the former young wife.
-Your cards spoke! I shouted.
“Of course they always tell the truth,” she laughed.
-Yes, but your cardboard boxes were moving! I shouted again.
She frowned and looked at me intently.
-Strange. You weren't supposed to see this.

After this incident, I waved my hand - he wants to guess, let him guess, only so that I don’t see these cards in my bed.

After a while my wife conceived.
Our son, Ivanushka, was born. For some reason, the wife was unhappy, they say, she wanted a girl. And I was happy! Son, this is a continuation of the family, surname! My son! Healthy, strong baby.
It seemed to live and be happy. It's just that the hell started again.
I wake up at night, I hear that Vanyushka began to cry in the cradle.
I stretched out my hand to wake my wife, and froze - only half of my wife lay with me. That is, up to the hips it was my Svetlana, but there were no legs! Instead, something that turns into a thick tail. Wool tail. And the fur is so rough to the touch, like the bristles of an old pig.
I wanted to scream, but my voice was gone. I look, and a black shadow has separated from the wall. The shadow swam to the cradle and began to rock it.
The baby groaned and fell asleep again. The one next to her didn't even move.

In the morning I began to demand explanations from my wife about what was happening in my house! Who shakes my son at night and where did the other half of my wife go!
-Did you see that? she furrowed her brows. - Strange. Shouldn't have seen, - she was seriously surprised. - Yes, my advice to you, do not tell anyone, otherwise I will hand you over to a psychiatric hospital.

And I shut up.
He was silent when he saw the shadow, he was silent when he saw that my wife was crawling like a snake from the bed and following the shadow into the wall.
He was silent when his wife twice a year disappeared from the house in an unknown direction. At the end of May and at the end of October. She returned quiet, strange, only there was so much fire in her eyes that it was impossible to look into them. They radiated death.

So he was silent until he saw one night that she was hovering over the bed, stretched out into a string. He said that there would be no more legs in this house. That I leave this house to her and go to my mother. And that I will take the child through the court.
She just chuckled and her eyes hardened like lightning.
- You will crawl to me in three days. You will wallow at your feet and beg for mercy. I'll think about whether to forgive you or not.

I put my hat in my hands and go.

I came to my mother, the village in which she lived was in a neighboring region.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, he almost screamed from fear and pain. I saw something black rise from the floor, a clot that looked like a voluminous drop. In this drop flashed the face of my wife. A clot with a squelching sound crawled into my ... in general, into the reproductive organ.
I passed out from the pain and collapsed in the doorway.

For two days I could not even walk - I could not relieve myself: some kind of worm crawled in the bottom of my stomach and seemed to block all the passages and exits.
On the third day, I lay at the feet of my witch and begged for mercy.
"I told you," she raised an eyebrow. She whispered something, gathered her fingers into a fist in the abdomen. A black clot slid from the stomach to the floor and with the same nasty squelching sound it dissolved on the floor.
“That’s right,” said the wife. “Leave when I let you.”

And I became the slave of my wife. Only when my daughter was born, she seemed to take pity on my cries and pleas for freedom.
"Go," she said, pursing her lips. Just remember that you will not live with anyone. You will die under the fence. Pissing, smelly, sick!

I ran faster than the wind! What was!
Life shook me with such a "program". Even managed to rewind the deadline. Yes, it’s all stupidity, of course, the wife has nothing to do with it. Even if she is a witch.

There were many women. But I could not live with any of them for more than a month. Out of the blue, scandals began, there was no life.
Then I met a good, kind, quiet woman. He immediately warned me that my character was not sugar. And she replied that she was tired of being alone, and that she was very patient.
They began to live. She had a son, a joint daughter was born. At first I was afraid, I woke up from every rustle.
Six months later, I realized that life is getting better! A large, bright apartment, a friendly family, the house has everything you need, and most importantly, there is peace in the house.

The feeling of some kind of dirty trick did not leave until he met his ex. We met by chance at the market.
“I underestimated you,” she said through clenched teeth.
-In terms of? I asked.
- Found a way to cover up. Who to cover up. Did you think of it yourself or did someone tell you?
I tried to figure out what she was talking about.
- Your current wife has the same name and date of birth as mine. Everything I do is like looking into a mirror,” she said regretfully. “But do not think that you will be able to hide behind such a shield for a long time. I'll get you. - And she repeated, - You will die on the street, pissing, smelly, sick!

And she went her own way.

And what am I ... From that meeting I started drinking again. I seem to be thirsty, unbearably thirsty. Think where I'm at past life I sinned so much that I got this “treasure” as my wife. One thing pleases me that nothing threatens my family. Let the children and wife be covered. And I... I can handle it. I can, - the man finished his story.

Strange thing, but I no longer see him in the same place.
As if the Great Master had finished the pattern he had planned, and now other people will take their place at this crossroads, at this section of the Canvas of Time.
I really want to think that the man's life has changed. For the better.
I really like to think so.

Your wife is a witch if...

Your husband is a magician if...

• If he skillfully wields your broom... and vacuum cleaner... and crowbar. Although sometimes all this confuses.
• If he knows exactly how much money you have left. And in the stash too. Nightmare!
• If you are sure that he gives you all his salary, although the calculations say otherwise.
• If, with its appearance in your life, the assortment of card decks in your house has approached the store.
• If he does not go to church at the urgent personal request of the Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church.
• If he knows how to cook poisons and food, and one is different from the other. Albeit not in action, but at least in taste ... in most cases.
• If, when someone in his presence speaks of "necrocoprophilia", he replies "I know, I know" and smiles slyly.
• If he had more rings and medallions than you.
• If the most needed furniture in the house is the altar. And you want to buy another one or two.
• If people usually go to the toilet with a newspaper, and he also with a notebook and a pen.
• If the insidious neighbor's killer cat sits on his lap and purrs like a clockwork.
• If in your hearts you send him to hell, and he says that he will not go, because she is already sleeping.
• If his mother really sleeps: at 8, 9, 10 and 11 in the morning ... at night ... and, apparently, that is why she looks younger than you.
• If the playful men around you are firmly convinced that you have a rare form of leprosy.
• If he does not know what a "rival" is. He likes the word "suicide" better.
• If, despite your best efforts, you can't slip under the covers unnoticed and finally just fall asleep.
• If your first desire after the first night was to call all the "ex" with a message about their inferiority and sincere condolences, but you did not have to do this, because you could not remember the name of any of them at all.
• If "to fall in love in a quick way" - this is to keep within two hours.
• If he weighs twice as much as you, but when you climbed into a hole in the cemetery fence together, he climbed through, but you didn’t.
• If you could write a book about any of his hobbies and beat Bram Stoker's sales record.
• If he is sure that a real man should be able to make a crossbow at home.
• If the last time he drank vodka was ten years ago and does not consider it necessary to hide this fact as compromising.
• If none of his girlfriends entered your house through the door. Although someone persistently tried to get through the window all the time. Until you put bars on the windows.
• If he rushes through the forest for a day and then does not smell. Nothing but the forest.

When your wife is a witch, make no mistake, adventure is on your doorstep. And if you are forced to look for her in the Dark Worlds, which - believe me! - not for the sake of a red word are called Dark, then you definitely will not be bored. Moreover, in such a cheerful company as ... the devil and the angel.

Andrey Belyanin
My wife is a witch

I'm tired of hiding from plates. They don't listen to me! I am a living person, what am I now, and I can’t get up from the table? It is easy for her to speak, she just takes a look - and all the saucers stand at attention.

- Darling, if you want to eat, just sit at the table. I agreed with the dishes, they will do the rest themselves ...

And they did! As soon as I sat down on a stool, a knife, a spoon and a fork whistled out of the wall box and gently slid onto the tablecloth in front of me, who turned pale. Then the polished ladle, with a familiar wink at the passing plate, effectively plopped a good portion of borscht into it. The aroma is all over the kitchen ... The plate smoothly, so as not to spill, sits down between the spoon and fork. The final touch is bread and a dessert spoon of sour cream. It reminds a little of the famous scene with dumplings from Gogol, doesn't it? The question is, what am I still not happy with? Yes, a wife who is able to train kitchen utensils in such a way should put up a monument during her lifetime and kiss her feet. I don’t argue ... On the contrary, I love her very much, but the result ... It crosses my mind that you need to wash your hands before eating. You can’t help it, I forgot who it doesn’t happen to ... And now, when I get up in order to head to the bathroom, this stupid plate, filled to the brim with steaming borscht, suddenly decides that it has been abandoned, and breaks down after me. Either she didn’t calculate the speed, or I caught my slipper on a crease on the linoleum, but the consequences ... My entire lower back was scalded and ... sorry, the one below. In the evening, my wife roared loudly and demanded to show her exactly that plate in order to break it this very minute. But the intruder, sharply wiser, immediately after my cry rushed to wash and disguised herself on a shelf with dishes among her porcelain companions for a long time. How do I recognize her? By facial expression? That's when she scalded me, I'm ready to swear - her face was the most wrecking. Now... how do you tell them apart? There is no direct evidence, bribes are smooth.

While my wife generously smeared my backside with cool ointment with gentle fingers, I plaintively persuaded her not to conjure in the house anymore. The thing is, my wife is a witch. Don't be afraid... You see, I'm talking about this quite casually and calmly. Witch... Yes, most men periodically throw such an epithet to their irritated halves, when those in curlers, washed-out bathrobes and with the remnants of yesterday's cosmetics on wrinkled faces, do not allow them to adequately celebrate the Day of the Paris Commune. I always say this word with respect. No hard feelings, no insults, nothing personal, just a witch... Not that uncommon, I must admit. Mother Rus' has long been famous for its loyalty to all kinds of evil spirits. Suffice it to recall the magnificent collection "Kyiv Witches", the prose of Zhukovsky and Bryusov, the poetry of Pushkin and Gumilyov. I’m generally silent about Gogol, and who didn’t admire Bulgakov’s marvelous novel? How many men got such a selfless woman like Margarita? Who at least once did not dream of secretly touching her knee with her lips and hearing: "The Queen is in admiration ..."

I'm lucky. I think so. I don't care what others think about this. If any individual starts to insist especially strongly, I will forget about my innate intelligence and hit him in the face. He should be very grateful to me, because if my wife takes up this ... One guy, a merchant from a nearby wine and vodka kiosk, managed to get a slap from her - they say he is still being treated. An incredibly large lichen has bloomed all over my cheek, and the doctors shrug, not knowing what to do with it ...

Our love story is simple and romantic. We met in the library. I was invited there for a performance with poetry. You see, I am a poet. In his city, he is a recognized, well-known person, a member of the Writers' Union. Thanks to this, I am often invited to speak at various organizations, sometimes even paid, but that’s not the point ... She worked in this library, met me at the entrance, escorted me to the hall, then - as usual ... Or rather, everything usual ended there. I looked into her eyes and the world changed. Trite? Alas… I myself used to be blissfully convinced that this only happens in books and movies. Her eyes are brown, unusually warm and so deep that I fell into them at first sight. Without really understanding what was happening, I read all the poems about love only to her. I answered questions from the audience so brilliantly witty that she laughed all the time, standing against the wall. I hardly looked away from her, absolutely not wanting to be aware of the complete tactlessness of such an obsessive looking at an outside woman ... Three long painful years have passed, and now we are together. The fact that she is a witch, Natasha confessed to me on the very first day of our married life.

"And don't make such a condescending face," she said sternly. “I can't stand it when you talk to me like I'm crazy or like a little girl telling her daddy a bad dream. Yes, I am a witch! Please take this into consideration and take it seriously.

- Darling, do you hope that I will come to my senses and quickly file for divorce?

- It's too late, dear! Don't even dream of divorce. Now I will never let you go. You just have the right to know the whole truth about me, and the truth is this: I am a witch.

“Very interesting,” I smiled again, placing her on my lap. It was our favorite position for intimate conversations. I put my arms around her waist and she put her hands on my shoulders. – Now tell me: when, how and, in general, why did you notice the first signs of an unclean spirit in yourself?

- I'll bite you!

– Just not behind the ear… ouch! Don't... I love you!

- I love you too. Do not be silly. Everything is far from being so fun… Have you heard anything about the transfer of the gift?

- Something very vague. It seems like every sorcerer before death must transfer his gift to someone, right?

“Almost,” Natasha nodded seriously. - How good it is that you are so well-read with me, you know everything yourself. My grandmother was a Verkhovyna Ukrainian from Transcarpathia. Everyone in the village knew that she was a witch, and when my mother and I visited her for the summer, the neighborhood children teased me that she was a witch.

- This is not good ... Children should be polite and friendly, and teasing ... oh! Ear, ear, ear...

"I won't bite you yet!" she snorted indignantly, immediately giving me a comforting kiss. “Well, please take my words seriously… So, one winter, my grandmother got sick. Dad and I stayed in the city, and my mother went to her, but did not have time: my grandmother died. The neighbors said that it was a terrible death, she rushed about, screamed, as if she was fighting with someone who was strangling her ... I don’t remember what difficulties there were with the funeral, it seems that the priest forbade her to be buried in the cemetery, but in the end everything settled. Mom sold the house with all the contents to the state farm and was very angry when I asked about my grandmother.

- A strange relationship for mother and daughter.

“They have always been tense. Grandmother did not accept dad and considered mom's choice a mistake. She didn't even write to us. She loved me madly, believing that I was very similar to my mother, and always gave gifts. Like this…

- And from your grandmother's love, witchcraft was transmitted to you?

- The fact is that while my mother was at the funeral, a package arrived at our address. Dad himself received it in the mail. Apparently, the grandmother sent her as soon as she fell ill, or a little earlier. There were jars of jam, some herbs, dried mushrooms on a string, everything seemed to be ... At least, that's how dad calmed the worried mom when she returned. He didn't know there was a present for me. Between the banks lay a box, I grabbed it and put it in my pocket. Then she closed herself in the nursery and looked there. It was a heavy silver chain with an unusual black metal cross. I immediately realized what an old and beautiful thing I had in my hands. I put it on and...

- Don't kiss, you're distracting me... Don't kiss, they tell you!

- I lost consciousness. Dad said that he was very scared when he heard a noise in my room. But when he brought me to my senses, there was no chain around my neck. And I found the chain the next morning in the same dress pocket.

“So Grandma put all the witch power into her gift and thus passed it on to you?”

- Yes. When I turned eighteen, I felt this gift.

- How exactly?

I can move objects with my eyes.

“Ordinary telekinesis,” I chuckled.

- I can fly.

– Normal levitation.

- I can conjure.

- That is, to assure a person that he sees something that is not there? Snowdrops in the middle of winter, a rabbit in a hat, underwear from France and gold coins from the ceiling… Banal hypnosis. My girl, you are in the grip of deep delusions. My duty as a husband and citizen is to take you by the hand and take you to a good psychiatrist, and only there...

Instead of answering, she raised a cup of cold tea from the table with a glance and made her slowly pour the contents down my collar. From that moment I believed her...

* * *

Then she showed me this chain, indeed, old silver with black, scratches, heavy and cold. The cross fit neatly into a regular square, the lower bar was somewhat curved to the right, the upper one to the left, but still it was undoubtedly a cross. The metal is unknown to me, black, like cast iron, but lighter than aluminum in the palm of your hand. I tried to try it on, but my wife took it away by twisting her finger at the temple.

- Could it explode? I joked sourly.

– Don't be smart… The Gift is no longer in him, but I don't want to risk it.

Are you afraid that I will become a sorcerer?

- My dear, what are you talking about? She threw up her hands and snuggled up to me. Do you have any idea what it's like to be a wizard?

- Crible, crable, boom! After that, little green men appear and fulfill my every desire ...

- Little green men appear after the second bottle without a snack. Listen, you are my smart, handsome man, in addition a wonderful poet, I love you very, very much! Please don't go where they don't ask...

She persuaded me. She generally succeeds easily, I just lose my head from her kisses. Every time I remind myself who is the boss in the house, every time I give my word to insist on my own and ... It is enough for her to come up and look me in the eye. Only that the ropes do not twist. Why am I so sure that she really loves me?

And then one winter night Natasha disappeared. This happened after about a month of our life together. It began with the fact that I woke up from an incomprehensible vague anxiety - my wife was not around. The pillow still held the scent of her hair, but the sheet on the other side of the bed was already cold. I got up, fumbled for my slippers in the dark, went into the kitchen, turned on the light - no one ... She was not in the toilet and bathroom either. I rushed into the hallway - Natasha's sheepskin coat hung on a hanger, and winter boots comfortably crouched in the corner. I don't understand, what the hell...

- What happened to you? she purred sleepily as I crawled under the covers again. - You're cold all over! Come to me, I will warm you ...

We eagerly clung to each other, and, already falling asleep, I could not understand what kind of strange smell comes from her black hair ...

The second time it happened three days later. We didn’t have a clear schedule of who gets up when, who cooks breakfast, who luxuriates in bed. This time I got up first, Natasha slept, curled up in a warm ball and pulled the blanket up to her nose. It was snowing outside the window. I quickly got into my pants, padded into the kitchen to put on the kettle, and when I returned, I sat on the edge of the bed, admiring this woman. I really liked to look at her sleeping ... So defenseless, touchingly vulnerable and insanely dear. It was then that I again felt the nostril-cutting smell. Looking around, I involuntarily leaned over my serenely snoring wife, and ... the smell intensified! It was coming from her hair... A sharp, stuffy smell of a dog! No, something very similar, but different... more wild, or something... Natasha opened her eyes so unexpectedly that I shuddered.

“Aaah… it’s you…” She stretched sweetly, sticking out her swarthy, rounded hands from under the blanket. Are you peeking again? Well, shame on you, hare ... How many times have I asked you ...

- Don't you feel anything? I interrupted.

“Hmm… no, what is it?” She fluttered her eyelashes in disbelief.

“And you smell,” I explained.

- Earring, dear, what are you talking about? Natasha smiled softly, throwing her arms around my neck. The blanket slipped over her chest, and I again felt a painfully sweet dizziness. - No, wait ... I - in the shower!

She slipped out of my arms like a wave, and after a while she was already calling me from the kitchen. The kettle boiled. Natasha took out a jar of coffee from the cabinet. She had just got out of the bath, and her wet hair smelled of green apples. For a while I forgot about the strange smell...

Natasha herself spoke to me the very next night, when we, hot and tired, tried to lie down comfortably in order to devote at least some part of that night to sleep.

- Is there anything wrong?

- Beloved, you are just a miracle for me ... Living fire! I have never met such a woman.

- Don't get out. She propped herself up on her elbow, looking into my eyes. "Well, why are you doing this to me?" I see everything...

- What do you see?

You're sniffing my hair again.

- Not at all. It’s just that your head is on my chest, I breathe in and out, and that’s how the illusion is created…

Are you sure you need to know this? Natasha interrupted.

I shrugged, we were silent.

- You are right. Of course you are right about everything. Since we are together, then you have the right to know everything about me. I... I was hoping that maybe you wouldn't notice, but... I've got some problems.

- Then tell me. As long as we are united, we are invincible! Ay! Ear...don't bite!

I have bitten and will bite! Vredina... I'm talking to him seriously, but he brushes me off with stupid slogans of the Cuban revolution. I won't speak!

- Ours?

“Naturally, for just as a husband belongs to his wife, so a wife belongs to her husband,” I concluded importantly.

Natasha got up, went to the window and pulled back the curtain. In the ultramarine sky, among the silver scattering of stars, the pinkish disk of the moon shone dully.

- Full moon...

I looked at the body of my wife bathed in a cold brilliance, almost not breathing from mute admiration. She was so unattainably beautiful, like the marble statue of Venus in the Hermitage, like the "Source" by Ingres or "Morning" by Konenkov. I could name a bunch more names and works of art, but the most marvelous creation of nature itself was now standing in front of me.

“Can you not think of me as a woman for a minute?!”

- I can ... after ninety-eight.

“Fool…just try.” - She almost burst out laughing, but again tried to take a serious note: - You see, in the sky full moon. On such nights, the Forces of Darkness take special power over us. I am a witch and I love you. So I'm going far, far away...

- I don't understand anything. What are the Forces of Darkness? What else is power? Why and why do you need to go somewhere?

Because I can't always control my feelings. Because bestial instincts take over, and I can't afford to hurt you even the slightest. I'm leaving for other worlds... And I'm coming back almost immediately. What is a whole day there takes less than a minute here. The ability to turn time is a serious plus of witchcraft. Before I was able to do it imperceptibly, now you began to notice. So the time has come...

- Beloved, come to me ... - I held out my hands in the hope that she, as always, would throw herself into my arms, and only there ... in general, together we will be able to dispel her depression.

She stepped into the center of the room, quickly threw her hands up, threw back her head, and for a moment stood still in a tense pose. Then - a movement, imperceptible to the eye, as if somersault or somersault over the back, and ... in our bedroom, a she-wolf stood up on the carpet! I was speechless, my whole body seemed to be shackled by a chilling cold of fear, and the wild beast sucked in air through its nostrils, looked at me intently with round yellow eyes, spun in place and disappeared. An incredibly long minute passed until Natasha was back in her original place.

Now you've seen, now you know.

I was silent. She narrowed her eyes in disbelief, pushed me on the shoulder, and I fell off the bed onto the floor like a plastic mannequin. The wife put on her dressing gown and rushed to the refrigerator for vodka. After half an hour of effective rubbing, my muscles returned to their former norm, but I was able to speak much earlier. True, I don’t remember what exactly I was shouting about then. It seems that he cursed ... Or prayed? ..

* * *

By the evening of the next day, at dinner, we again returned to the same topic. I couldn't stand it first, I confess...

“Darling, does it…well, doesn’t it hurt a lot?”

- No. - She immediately understood what I mean, and, putting down the cup, took my hand in hers. Her eyes were kind and sad. - Why do you ask?

- So ... usually in horror films, a person breaks, twists, his forms change, bones and muscles transform, teeth grow, hair climbs ... All this is accompanied by terrible screams, tears, convulsions. How does it happen for you?

- Probably, this is difficult to explain ... On the full moon, I feel a kind of call, as if the blood itself moves differently in the veins, the heart beats differently, even my vision changes. I see subtle worlds, I feel around me a different essence of things, smells, colors ... The skin becomes so thin that it seems like the wind passes through me. Then an instant surge of pain, sweet to the point of insanity... Everything human disappears - and I look at the world through the eyes of a she-wolf. I find myself in another place, another dimension, another world, if you like...

“These… worlds, are they always different?”

- Yes. Or rather, there are several of them, sometimes you end up in the same one. It can be a forest, a desert, an abandoned city. I remember some vague snippets of the most vivid impressions, mostly connected with running after or away from someone. Hunt, chase, fight. When the act of returning to the previous body takes place, I do not have time to remember. But it always happens only here, only in this world. I can't become a human there, although I am convinced that it is those worlds that are saturated with magic to the limit. Perhaps we are only allowed to look into them, but not allowed to live in them.

- Us? A little surprised, I asked.

- There are several of us. I sometimes remember my running in the pack. Among the real wolves were werewolves. They have a completely different, humanly meaningful look. We immediately recognize each other and try to stay away. There is a huge silver-gray wolf there, his gaze fills me with horror. I can't explain why... It seems to me that I feel the evil emanating from them. We are different… If they could catch up with me, they would definitely kill me.

- Darling, are you sure that there is no cure for this?

Andrey Belyanin

My wife is a witch

I'm tired of hiding from plates. They don't listen to me! I am a living person, what am I now, and I can’t get up from the table? It is easy for her to speak, she just takes a look - and all the saucers stand at attention.

- Darling, if you want to eat, just sit at the table. I agreed with the dishes, they will do the rest themselves ...

And they did! As soon as I sat down on a stool, a knife, a spoon and a fork whistled out of the wall box and gently slid onto the tablecloth in front of me, who turned pale. Then the polished ladle, with a familiar wink at the passing plate, effectively plopped a good portion of borscht into it. The aroma is all over the kitchen ... The plate smoothly, so as not to spill, sits down between the spoon and fork. The final touch is bread and a dessert spoon of sour cream. It reminds a little of the famous scene with dumplings from Gogol, doesn't it? The question is, what else am I dissatisfied with? Yes, a wife who is able to train kitchen utensils in such a way should put up a monument during her lifetime and kiss her feet. I don’t argue ... On the contrary, I love her very much, but the result ... It crosses my mind that you need to wash your hands before eating. You can’t help it, I forgot who it doesn’t happen to ... And now, when I get up in order to head to the bathroom, this stupid plate, filled to the brim with steaming borscht, suddenly decides that it has been abandoned, and breaks down after me. Either she didn’t calculate the speed, or I caught my slipper on a crease on the linoleum, but the consequences ... My entire lower back was scalded and ... sorry, the one below. In the evening, my wife roared loudly and demanded to show her exactly that plate in order to break it this very minute. But the intruder, sharply wiser, immediately after my cry rushed to wash and disguised herself on a shelf with dishes among her porcelain companions for a long time. How do I recognize her? By facial expression?

That's when she scalded me, I'm ready to swear - her face was the most wrecking. Now... how do you tell them apart? There is no direct evidence, bribes are smooth.

While my wife generously smeared my backside with cool ointment with gentle fingers, I plaintively persuaded her not to conjure in the house anymore. The thing is, my wife is a witch. Don't be afraid... You see, I'm talking about this quite casually and calmly. Witch... Yes, most men periodically throw such an epithet to their irritated halves, when those in curlers, washed-out bathrobes and with the remnants of yesterday's cosmetics on wrinkled faces, do not allow them to adequately celebrate the Day of the Paris Commune. I always say this word with respect. No hard feelings, no insults, nothing personal, just a witch... Not that uncommon, I must admit. Mother Rus' has long been famous for its loyalty to all kinds of evil spirits. Suffice it to recall the magnificent collection "Kyiv Witches", the prose of Zhukovsky and Bryusov, the poetry of Pushkin and Gumilyov. I’m generally silent about Gogol, and who didn’t admire Bulgakov’s marvelous novel? How many men got such a selfless woman like Margarita? Who at least once has not dreamed of secretly touching her knee with her lips and hearing: “The Queen is delighted ...” I was lucky. I think so. I don't care what others think about this. If any individual starts to insist especially strongly, I will forget about my innate intelligence and hit him in the face. He should be very grateful to me, because if my wife takes up this ... One guy, a merchant from a nearby wine and vodka kiosk, managed to get a slap from her - they say he is still being treated. An incredibly large lichen has bloomed all over my cheek, and the doctors shrug, not knowing what to do with it ...

Our love story is simple and romantic. We met in the library. I was invited there for a performance with poetry. You see, I am a poet. In his city, he is a recognized, well-known person, a member of the Writers' Union. Thanks to this, I am often invited to speak at various organizations, sometimes even paid, but that’s not the point ... She worked in this library, met me at the entrance, escorted me to the hall, then - as usual ... Or rather, everything usual ended there. I looked into her eyes and the world changed. Trite? Alas… I myself used to be blissfully convinced that this only happens in books and movies. Her eyes are brown, unusually warm and so deep that I fell into them at first sight. Without really understanding what was happening, I read all the poems about love only to her. I answered questions from the audience so brilliantly witty that she laughed all the time, standing against the wall. I hardly looked away from her, absolutely not wanting to be aware of the complete tactlessness of such an obsessive looking at an outside woman ... Three long painful years have passed, and now we are together. The fact that she is a witch, Natasha confessed to me on the very first day of our married life.

"And don't make such a condescending face," she said sternly. “I can't stand it when you talk to me like I'm crazy or like a little girl telling her daddy a bad dream. Yes, I am a witch! Please take this into consideration and take it seriously.

- Darling, do you hope that I will come to my senses and quickly file for divorce?

- It's too late, dear! Don't even dream of divorce. Now I will never let you go. You just have the right to know the whole truth about me, and the truth is this: I am a witch.

“Very interesting,” I smiled again, placing her on my lap. It was our favorite position for intimate conversations. I put my arms around her waist and she put her hands on my shoulders. – Now tell me: when, how and, in general, why did you notice the first signs of an unclean spirit in yourself?

- I'll bite you!

– Just not behind the ear… ouch! Don't... I love you!

- I love you too. Do not be silly. Everything is far from being so fun… Have you heard anything about the transfer of the gift?

- Something very vague. It seems like every sorcerer before death must transfer his gift to someone, right?

“Almost,” Natasha nodded seriously. - How good it is that you are so well-read with me, you know everything yourself. My grandmother was a Verkhovyna Ukrainian from Transcarpathia. Everyone in the village knew that she was a witch, and when my mother and I visited her for the summer, the neighborhood children teased me that she was a witch.

- This is not good ... Children should be polite and friendly, and teasing ... oh! Ear, ear, ear...

"I won't bite you yet!" she snorted indignantly, immediately giving me a comforting kiss. “Well, please take my words seriously… So, one winter, my grandmother got sick. Dad and I stayed in the city, and my mother went to her, but did not have time: my grandmother died. The neighbors said that it was a terrible death, she rushed about, screamed, as if she was fighting with someone who was strangling her ... I don’t remember what difficulties there were with the funeral, it seems that the priest forbade her to be buried in the cemetery, but in the end everything settled. Mom sold the house with all the contents to the state farm and was very angry when I asked about my grandmother.

Sometimes you can hear how a beloved spouse calls his wife in his hearts, or, in extreme cases, his mother-in-law: “Witch!”, But the men do not even suspect what they are talking about, putting such force into this word ... But we all , women, a little bit of a witch in my soul! Can be very useful in everyday life! After all, as you know, witches not only spoil crops in the fields, but also have high sexual skills. We all know how to seduce men, and we know both the most accessible ways of seducing, and not available! Isn't this witchcraft? So, having a witch at your side is not such a bad thing! But, there are bad witches, and there are good ones. So, what are they, women - witches living in the urban jungle and not only?

Personal witch composition:

The forest sorceress is a spiritual aunt, sometimes even a blonde. Lives on the edge of the forest, in a hut. He brews healing potions, heals the bodily and moral wounds of aristocratic men with them.

City sorceress - most often, she is a red-haired beast. He likes to hammer glass or pianos with a hammer. Sometimes, sitting on the windowsill, he throws his shirt over the men's heads. She has such fun!

Lilith and her lovely daughters. Having once been the wife of Adam, the first man, the beauty Lilith hated the entire male race and swore an oath to take revenge on the peasants forever. (Looks like he was really bad as a husband ...) She takes revenge in a very original way: she comes to the bedroom at night to a man, seduces him, well, and then gives birth to another daughter, the same bitch ...

Mara - a creature of extraordinary beauty, woven as if from fog, takes away men's health, strength - strength, and, of course, reason. :mrgreen: She also comes at night, but unlike other wickedness in the morning, she does not disappear anywhere, but remains next to her lover ... as a wife. Here we are, wives! Every day, the pale, completely transparent mara takes on a healthy and ruddy appearance. And the hubby, on the contrary, is losing weight and withering right before our eyes.

Succubus (Latin "succubare" - "to lie under something") - the most cunning and voluptuous demon - a woman. Succubus cunning and cunning are needed to seduce young and handsome guys to make love to them and steal their sperm. Having received the precious seed, the demons quickly turn into professional male seducers - incubi and fly to impregnate witches. Complete metamorphosis! This is how the evil spirit provides itself with offspring. So, men, be on the alert! By the way, a succubus never forces his victim to communicate. These demonesses are ideal lovers who can make any man happy.

And how to determine if a succubus is next to you? Guide for you men!

She has green eyes.

Thick, sometimes fused eyebrows, like Salma Hayek.

Dogs don't get along with her. As soon as a succubus starts up in the house, the animal dies.

Loves milk. Sometimes she is able to milk someone else's cow with dexterity.

There is a large leather wing on the back. Creepy…

She has big beautiful breasts with bright nipples.

She has sex often and for a very long time. The initiative always comes from her, the demon will not indulge male desires for anything.

And where are they deployed, holding Sabbaths?

Bald Mountain near Kyiv; top of the Brocken mountain; Brokula rock or black rock - in the middle of the sea, not far from Sweden.

And finally, again, men are all just for you: 13 signs that your wife is a witch.

She enrolled in a night macrame club with 3 classes per week.

On other days, she does NOT have a headache in the evening.

Having received a salary, you experience an irresistible desire to give it to your wife.

She smells of sulfur.

She stopped watching TV shows.

What she usually cooks in the kitchen has nothing to do with food.

She mutters in her sleep, and you feel that she is not saying something ...

At the thought of any other woman, you experience an attack of nausea.