Scary hunting stories. Hunters at rest (scary stories)

An ordinary Russian hunter spoke about a seemingly unremarkable (in terms of some kind of mystery) case that once happened to him and his comrades. Our compatriot then went with three friends to fish in the forest. By evening, the hunters wandered into a dense thicket and, as luck would have it, were left without matches. mobile phones and satellite navigation did not exist in those days.

It was a cold late autumn, the weather had deteriorated, and the lost fellows began to freeze with the onset of darkness. Suddenly, an abandoned gatehouse appeared ahead - very miserable, with only one door and no windows at all. Our heroes went inside and found only a table with a bench in the middle. There were no food supplies in this hut. Nevertheless, the hunters were happy with such a find - at least the rain does not pour on their heads and the wind does not blow through to the bones.

However, it was not possible to take a nap in the gatehouse. Without fire, it was so cold inside that the comrades soon began to literally die here as well. To somehow keep warm, it was only possible to move, but the hut was pitch dark. Then one of the companions came up with the idea of ​​running around the dark room in a kind of relay race. Four hunters stood at the corners of the room and began to quickly move along the walls in a clockwise direction, pushing (pushing out of the corner) each other.

You run to the next corner, push your friend, take his place and wait to be pushed in order to run further. They ran like that all night, exhausted, but, as expected, they did not freeze to death. When dawn broke, they left their camp and began to look for a way out of the forest. In the end, they were saved. The narrator was very proud of the resourcefulness of his company, which saved his and his comrades' lives.

However, the attentive listener to whom this story was told was not so much impressed by it as puzzled. Thinking, he said:

Something about this story doesn't add up. There were four of you, and there were four corners in the gatehouse too, right? You took turns running from one corner to another, pushing each other. That is, one of you was constantly running, and one corner always remained empty. So that each of you could push the other every time, there had to be five of you - four stand in the corners, and one runs!

The narrator, who perfectly remembered this “relay race” in the dark and had not seen any logical contradictions in it before, frowned. Calculating everything in his mind, he turned pale. Indeed: if the comrades took turns running around the gatehouse and every time they pushed each other in every corner, then among them, it turns out, there was someone fifth! So the hunters lived all these years, not even suspecting that they then came into contact in a forest hut with something frightening, potentially inexplicable and dangerous ...

Once, when I went on vacation, a friend invited me to go hunting. I agreed, because he loved to hunt and fish, because there was still a river there. We agreed to meet in the village at the mother of a friend. I packed my things and came to the village (I have a motorcycle with a sidecar). I caught a friend cleaning a gun. He sipped from a forty-degree bottle and sang a simple tune. Seeing me, he waved his hand and said that some grandmother had met him and advised him not to go hunting.
- Don't, my dear, - he says, - you chose the wrong time.
We laughed, got our gear and hit the road.
It took about five hours before we hit the trail of a large deer. A friend (Sasha) rode his motorcycle in one direction, and I went in the other (surrounded). And after a while, I lost sight of both the moto friend and the driven deer. Drove a little more, slowed down slightly and suddenly stalled. The headlight went out, darkness remained. I listened. The roar of Pissani's engine was not heard. Crap!
I made at least fifteen attempts to start the equipment and all to no avail. Strange, the tank is full, no other damage was found. And then there was a groan, creaking like this, with an aspiration. I raised my head. Nothing but trees around. Yes, and still squelched underfoot: drove to the outskirts of the swamp.
The groan was repeated, now not far, about thirty meters away. It could not be a sleigh by definition.
And then I saw a faintly glowing silhouette. Judging by the outlines, it was a girl.
I was scared to death. The silhouette was getting closer. The ghost did not move its legs, it just floated on me through the air ...
Gun…
Pulling the trigger…
It didn't work out...
Mmm, what's the matter?!
Forgot to call!
Raised…
Aimed…
By that time, the ghost had reduced the distance to 10 m...
Shot. Doublet.
The silhouette stopped and... Quickly went underground.
At the same second, the motorcycle roared with the engine and the lit headlight grabbed a good half of the large swamp.
And I? I slammed on the fifth point, the gun fell to my knees.
I sat there for ten minutes, maybe more. Got up, raised the gun, reloaded. While reloading, the red cylinders of charges strove to fall out of his trembling hands. But nothing, he did it. I got on a motorcycle and went to look for Sanka. Searched until the morning. In the morning I arrived at the village, managing to slap a small boar along the way. In the village of Sanya, drunk as a dead sleep, he slept in his motorcycle, a shot deer was lying in a carriage, and an unloaded gun was sticking out from there.
He made decisions on a drunken head. So I decided that I would get to the house myself and there was no need to look for me.
I woke him up. Sanya looked at me numbly and said:
“You have no idea what I saw while hunting drunk yesterday!”
- What?
- Estimate, food, food, I'm leading a deer. Well brought, aimed, shot down. Stopped and started packing. And then some ghostly girl comes at me! Well, then I got scared and with two guns at her! She disappeared.
“Hmm,” I said, lighting a cigarette. - Only you, dude, it did not seem. I slapped that girl too. Have you got a moth?
- By the way, yes! Right before she shows up! And as soon as he fired, my Harley immediately turned on ...
I found a grandmother who warned Sanya about this danger. She said that a lot of people died in that swamp, and it was on the day when they begin to roam the forest in the form of ghosts that we started hunting.
- You, my dear, - he says - are terribly lucky, the ghosts of enti could even break!
After that, I fell out of love with hunting, sold the gun and got into fishing ...

Drawing by Valeria Dashieva

In the footsteps of the Bigfoot and the Devil Woman

Since ancient times, the Sartuuls have been and continue to be engaged in hunting. The rocky mountains of the Dzhidinsky district abound with wild animals, therefore, according to the proverb "Happiness of a man in the mountains", the representatives of the stronger sex, returning from the taiga, say: "We had a good time, rested."

In the event of a large booty, it was arranged fun party, on which they broke a tubular bone, fried the liver, told stories, many of which later became hunting stories. Compatriots, knowing each other well, often embellished events and added from themselves. It is known that many do not believe the stories of hunters. However, in any place and at all times there were many who wanted to listen to hunting stories. Some of them were recorded by the Honored Worker of Culture of Buryatia and Russia, People's Poet of Buryatia Sange-Surun (Galina) Radnaeva.

Jidin Bigfoot

The son of Nimazhap Dymchikov, who was then the director of the state industrial enterprise, Bolot, while hunting, discovered traces of a strange creature. “Since I saw those footprints, various misfortunes have constantly happened to me. I’ll break my leg for no reason, then something else ... I can’t get into a normal track, ”he told me.

I, too, once, while hunting in the easternmost part of Zangata, before sunset, saw a small bear and began to pursue it. Having passed 500 - 600 meters, I suddenly saw a creature stepping over a fallen tree, which had retired. It had recently snowed and I could clearly make out the trail. I was wearing rubber boots size 43. Comparing the footprints, I figured that that footprint was about a size 41. Suddenly I felt uneasy, I turned around and headed towards my winter hut. It always seemed to me that it was as if someone were walking behind me, or it seemed out of fear (although I am not one of the shy ones) ...

I tried to direct my white dog so that it was behind me, but I did not achieve anything: the dog always ran ahead of me. So, shouting at the dog, I reached the lodging for the night. Cooked soup, had dinner, fed the dog. Suddenly the dog barked, letting out a trickle of urine from fear. Surprised, I opened the door, and the dog, out of fear, ran inside, jumped over the fire and hit the wall so that it was deafened. I reinforced the door with whatever came to hand, loaded my gun (it wasn't very good, really), pushed the ax under my arm and sat down. Far from dawn...

Suddenly, an unpleasant sound was heard outside (no matter how much I wandered through the forest, I did not hear such a sound). Come what may, I thought, opened the door ajar and began firing in the direction from which the sound was coming. The sound stopped, and the dog and I could hardly wait for the morning, and I did not go to bed. Early in the morning I caught the horse, took him by the reins and walked with the dog towards the house. We reached the Khundelen river, it is no more than a meter wide, and the horse suddenly fell into the water. Any creature that has fallen into the water raises its head up, but here the horse does not pull its head out of the water ...

I pulled up the horse's muzzle by the bridle, tied it to a tree and ran for help, forgetting even to remove the saddle from the horse. Having run two or three kilometers, I ended up in a winter hut - in the Khundelen area, the Ichetuy hunt. There was a young guy there. On his horse we galloped to that place, but my horse was already exhausted. The guy offered to slaughter the horse, but I was careful not to let blood into the river. He took off the bridle from the horse, and he immediately went under the water. He hid his saddle in the forest and went, then he hung the gun on a tree in a secluded place, and walked to Gegetui.
Two days later, I became very ill.

A few years later, the famous hunter Garmaev Lubsan-Yeshi hunted in those places. Late returning to the parking lot, had dinner and began to get ready for bed. Suddenly his dog Bars barked strongly. Lubsan-Yeshi took a gun, went out and headed in the direction where the dog was rushing - to the east.

And suddenly I saw a humanoid creature, all overgrown with hair (wool), with a pointed head. The hunter was frightened, he did not remember how he found himself in a winter hut. There was no gun, no jacket, no hat and mittens.

For several days the hunter walked without blinking, with his hair sticking up - he was so frightened. After that, he became very ill. Now I think that the creature had a strong hypnosis. Or was it Bigfoot?

Recorded from the words of Chagdurov Rinchin-Dorji Dorzhievich.

S. Balsanov translated from Buryat into Russian.

Devil woman in dark robes

When I was a young daughter-in-law, I loved to listen to the conversations of older people - my husband's grandfather Zhantsan and others. Their stories were like fairy tales, they were amazing and aroused interest.

Here is one of the stories. In the past, there lived one very well-aimed hunter (he was a representative of the seventh tribe of my husband). Once he was hunting Gunzan and heard some rustle behind him, as if something huge was rolling down the mountain, he, without looking, shot back from his armpits. Hearing the sound of something big falling, he was very frightened and, without turning around, ran away in the other direction.

After a while, having calmed down, he returned to that place. I saw that there was a huge snake, whose head was the size of a foal. And all around the foliage of the trees turned yellow. There is a rule according to which the hunter must taste the meat of the killed animal. The hunter cut off a piece of meat from a dead snake and tasted it. “There is no tougher meat than snake meat,” he later said.

Hearing talk about this hunter, I noticed: “After all, this is a fairy tale, in fact, this did not happen?” "No, no, it's all true!" - said the elderly. They said that the hunter cut off his finger for rustling hay, straw and scaring the animals in the autumn. When he went hunting, he did not take any food with him, except for a tuesk with ghee.

One day the hunter was going to spend the night in the forest. He lit a fire, boiled tea. Suddenly a woman in black clothes appeared and asked the hunter: “What is your name?”. "My name is I myself," replied the hunter. The hunter was a smart man and therefore suspected something was wrong (would a normal woman stagger through the forest at night?), He ordered the woman to go for water. She took the birch-bark vessel given to her and went to fetch water.

At that time, the hunter rolled up his degel to be mistaken for a sleeping person, and he hid behind a tree with a gun. The women were gone for a long time. When she came, covering her mouth with her sleeve, she peered at the “sleeping person” for a long time. Then she turned into a bird with a long beak and was about to peck at a sleeping one. As soon as the bird raised its wings, the hunter shot in the chest. The bird fell down screaming.

Various evil spirits (spirits, devils, etc.) came running to the cry and began to ask her: “Who did this?”. “I myself! I'm on my own!" - the bird called the name of the hunter. “Well, if you do, then what will we do?” - said the creatures and disappeared.

The hunter spent the night sitting by the fire. When it began to get light, I discovered a large, long, golden beak of a bird. The hunter took his beak, immediately returned home and went to the datsan. "This is very bad. Trouble is coming. It is necessary to take away and hand over this beak to another datsan in the Zhuu area, ”they told him.

It took three months for a hunter to reach Zhuu. He handed over his beak to the datsan. The abbot of that datsan knew who was heading towards them, and ordered: “A man with a golden beak is coming to us from distant places. We must meet him, feed him, let him rest. The hunter changed horses along the way, which the Mongols gave him. When he reached Zhuu, he was met by people in the datsan. The doors of the datsan were open (and the hunter on the way was worried about how he would find and open the right doors).

The traveler was fed, allowed to rest, then taken to the abbot of the datsan. He said: “You have defeated a very strong enemy. This strong sholmos (hell, devil) would bring considerable disaster to the people. Then, as a gift, the hunter was given the book “Altan Gerel” (“Golden Light”), written in golden letters.

He was told that the book must not be held below waist level. On the way back, the hunter kept the book to his chest all the time. When his hands were tired (and he needed to sleep), he attached the book to his head, tying it with reins. He rode for a very long time, and the reins rubbed his neck to wounds, scars. Indeed, the book "Altan Gerel" was in this family when I came to them as a daughter-in-law.

Grandfather died at 87 years old. After him, the book was at the disposal of his wife. Someone asked to read this book, but never returned it. She must be in one of the Gegetui families.

The story was recorded from the words of Lyubov Damdinovna Badmazhapova.

S. Balsanov translated from Buryat into Russian.

I must tell you about an interesting and inexplicable incident that happened to me while hunting in one ulus. So, let me start.. In 2002, with a group of friends, I went hunting in the forest, where, according to rumors, with a favorable outcome, it was possible to get a couple of moose. We went on an MTZ tractor with a trailer, there were five of us, we took three dogs with us. Having safely reached the hunting hut, we arranged some kind of life, prepared firewood for a supply and went to bed. Before going to bed, one of our friends, who hunted in these places more than once, said that it was necessary to be quieter here, not to make noise, otherwise there were spirits here, in Yakut "abaahy". We, the city, did not really believe this, we decided that he was playing a trick on us.

As usual on hunting in nature, we all began to tell all sorts of stories that we had ever heard. Fatigue took its toll, and half-heartedly listening to the stories of my friends, I began to fall asleep. And I had such a dream: everything was the same, the same hut, the same friends tell stories about spirits, and suddenly I wake up (in a dream) and feel that I need to go out of need. Without thinking twice, throwing on a pea jacket, I jump out into the street and see our dogs sleeping peacefully near the tractor. I walked a few meters away and began to relieve myself, and suddenly I hear steps behind me, turning around, I see the oldest and most experienced dog named "Scarlet" behind my back. Quietly I call him by name and notice that Scarlet is standing and looking not at me, but towards the ruins of the old Yakut booth. And suddenly Scarlet says to me in a human language: "Zhenya, you need to leave here, you are not welcome here!" I almost fainted and ran to the hut where my friends were.

Running into the hut, I saw that all my friends were sleeping. I started waking them up to tell them what had just happened to me, but none of them woke up. And suddenly I distinctly heard the voices of two people outside the hut. They seemed to be talking in Yakut, but I did not fully understand the meaning of what was said. I understood only one thing, that they came to take us all to them. I stood and listened in horror as they slowly approached our door. Couldn't move or do anything. At that moment, I suddenly woke up. Waking up, I saw that two friends were sleeping, and two more were quietly sitting near the stove and talking. I was covered in sweat, my heart was beating very strongly, in order to calm down a little, I got up and went up to the guys who were sitting near the stove and asked for a cigarette. When they saw me, they laughed and asked: "What happened?" I told them about my dream, and they laughed a little at me and went to bed. I smoked and went to bed too.

I slept peacefully for the rest of the night. Waking up early in the morning, we cast lots, who would stay in the hut during the day, go fishing with nets on the lake and cook food for the evening return. The lot fell on me... My friends laughing, seeing my timid attempts to go with them, got ready for the trip. They warmed up the tractor, loaded everything on a trailer and took all the dogs and went hunting, saying that they would come closer to the night, and if Bayanay smiled, then he didn’t wait for them until tomorrow. Left alone, I slowly tidied up the hut, took out the nets and began to prepare them for catching carp. Before dinner I finished my business and lay down to rest. All morning I couldn't get my night's sleep out of my head. I imperceptibly fell asleep, and when I woke up it was dark in the house, the stove went out and it became cool.

Having heated the stove, I decided, although it was a bit dark on the street, since I had overslept, I had to check the nets and prepare for the arrival of fresh fish. Having caught a normal catch, he came home in high spirits. Singing some melody under his breath, he began to clean the fish by the light of two large candles. Suddenly, I distinctly heard a man cough behind me, dropping the knife, I turned around, but I didn’t see anyone. Fear began to creep into my soul again. In order to somehow distract myself from the coming feeling of fear and in anticipation of boiling water for the soup, I began to read the only book that was in the hut. Gradually, the fear went away, by this time the water had boiled and, having put the fish in the cauldron, I finally calmed down. Suddenly, in the distance, I heard the sound of a working tractor, I was very happy about the return of my friends. While waiting for them, I began to look out the window every now and then, from where the descent from the hill to the alas, where our hut stood, was clearly visible. And now, from behind the trees, rays of light from the headlights of the tractor made their way, and after some time he himself began to descend the hill. In the trailer, I saw the silhouettes of three friends and began to prepare the table. About ten minutes later, the tractor drove up and purred, fell silent. He immediately heard the voices of his friends and the barking of Scarlet. My heart was relieved and I decided to wait for my friends in the hut, and they, talking loudly and laughing, came close to the door of the hut.

And suddenly everything became very quiet, no voices, no barking dogs could be heard. Not fully understanding the reason for the silence, I jumped out into the street and was stunned ... There was no tractor, there were no friends, and there was only darkness on the street ... And then I understood the expression: "hair stand on end" in the literal sense. It felt like someone grabbed my hair and pulled it up. Seeing nothing from fear, I hit the door, barely opened it and literally tumbled into the hut. And then another shock awaited me, an unfamiliar middle-aged man was sitting at the table with a pipe in his mouth and, looking angrily at me, suddenly yelled that my heart almost stopped, in Yakut: "KIER BUOLUN MANTAN !!!", in Russian - get out of here! I don’t remember how I ran out into the street where I was running, I just remember that willow branches were hitting my face hard. I came to my senses only on the road leading to the neighboring farm, although this road was about fifteen kilometers from our hut. I did not feel tired, but my breathing was very rapid and my heart was beating, trying to escape. Six hours later, I reached the farm, it was already the morning milk yield of the cows, and the local milkmaids were very surprised at my appearance. After drinking tea and eating a little, I told them my story and asked the man to go pick up my friends.

The man, who called himself Yegor, told me that this was not the first case in the alas where that hut stood. Previously, local guys hunted there, but one day a tragedy occurred there, after drinking together, the son shot his father. And then he hung himself. And since then strange things started to happen there. And what is surprising, if older, older men come to hunt, then everything goes fine, but when young people, like us, come, they always see a man with a pipe who kicks them out. Closer to dinner, my friends drove up, who were as frightened by my disappearance as I was. Such a story happened to me back in 2002 in one of the districts of the republic. Dear readers, this is not fiction, not fantasy, but the real one, real case. Subsequently, I heard a lot of interesting things from other hunters, maybe someone will put them on this group. Let others know and be ready if fate takes them to those places. Sincerely, "Believed" (from the forum)

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My grandfather recently retired, and despite his age, he is quite young and active. He has been fond of hunting since his youth, six months ago he bought himself a small hunting house and moved there. The house stands on the Izhma River, it is quite far from civilization. The nearest city, 10-15 km from the house, is Sosnogorsk, in the Komi Republic.

The place is very beautiful and quiet, I myself am quite quiet and calm, and I really liked this site. I visit him every vacation and my grandfather always tells me interesting stories, which he visited while I was at school. He talked about the life of animals, about UFOs over the forests, he even had to deal with mysticism. Sometimes I have witnessed such stories. For example, how foxes fought among themselves, or how a UFO hovered in the sky and emitted various light emissions. Most of all I liked his mystical story, which happened to him at the end of September. The story is more sad than scary.

As always, at 16 pm, he went hunting, taking everything he needed. He hunts mainly on his own bank, crossing the river very rarely. But that evening he decided to cross the river. Usual hunting, sitting, looking around. Suddenly he hears the rustling of surrender, looked around, and there was another hunter.

- I scared you, the website Yoshkin cat! Grandpa screamed.

- I'm sorry, man. Hush, hush," the man replied in a whisper.

A conversation began between them. Grandfather, the man seemed quite friendly. Despite his youth, he turned out to be without "show-offs" and did not show off. He had a dog named Sled, the dog was calm, the same as his grandfather's interlocutor. The peasant often smiled and was eloquent in conversation with his grandfather. Grandfather thought they might be comrades. They talked all evening as they walked through the woods. The sun was already hiding behind the horizon, they came to the place of their meeting. Grandfather was the first to extend his hand to Seryoga (that was the name of this stranger), showing him his respect for him. Sergei continued to smile, the dog wagged its tail merrily. They agreed to meet the next day at the same place, at the same time. Sergei and Sled went deep into the forest, grandfather went home.

On the morning of the next day, the grandfather waited for the evening to meet his friend again. I understand him, I think everyone had such a thing that he had just met a person, and he was already like a close friend to you. Evening came. He went to that place. Grandfather saw Sergei with a trace and rushed to them. The trace barked towards him, Sergey smiled, but there was something else in the smile, as if he himself was waiting for this meeting. They greeted and talked. And they went to the river to hunt ducks and other living creatures. On the way, their friendship grew stronger, they themselves did not notice how they began to communicate on “you”. They came to the river, looked around and saw a flock of ducks. They sat in the bushes, Trace behaved quietly.

— Good dog, said the grandfather.

“My Trace is the best,” Seryoga Trace hugged.

Grandpa just looked at them and smiled. They re-site focused on ducks. Everyone has chosen a goal for themselves. Shots were fired. The flock took off, two ducks were left to swim in the middle of the river. The trail followed the first, then the second.

— good dog! - Said the grandfather and gave him a piece of sausage.

The sun dipped below the horizon again. They came to the place of their first meeting and chatted about this and that. Sergei was the first to extend his hand and say:

- Thank you, Vanyok (that's my grandfather's name) for everything. You set me free, now I can go. I give you my Trace, please take care of it. And here, take my duck.

Grandpa didn't understand what was going on. Sergei continued to smile, he said: "Bye!" and went deep into the forest. The trace remained sitting next to his grandfather, and they both looked towards the departing Sergei. Grandpa's heart was lonely. At night, he dreamed of Sergei, the light leaving the white site, Sergei thanked my grandfather again and left.

I often noticed and notice how grandfather, sitting next to the Trace, sits and looks at this forest. And this story was told to me by my grandfather, sitting in the same position next to the Trace and looking into the distance. But he does not lose heart. Life goes on!