Weeping house. Scary short story
One girl went to school. There she got new friends, and they began to return home from school together.
Each time they passed by an old house, the yard of which was overgrown with tall nettles, and the trees pulled crooked branches without leaves into the sides.
Girlfriends told the girl that this is a weeping house.
"Why?" asked the girl.
"Because sometimes you can hear someone crying in the house, although no one has lived there for many years," the friends said.
And they also said that children disappear here, especially during the rains, and then they are found dead.
"So, stay away from this house."
But no matter how many times the girl walked past the weeping house, she never heard anyone crying there.
Once, on a cold rainy day, as dreary and unpleasant as always, the girl was walking home from school alone and saw that a boy was standing near the weeping house.
"Hey," the girl called, remembering the conversations of her friends, "did you hear that someone was crying there?"
The boy turned around and looked at the girl carefully.
"No," he said, "no one is crying there."
"You don't have to go there," said the girl. She was afraid that the boy would later be found dead.
"I didn't mean to," the boy replied.
He approached the girl. The girl saw that he was all wet and shivering, so she handed him her umbrella.
But he didn't take it.
"Do you know who lived there?" he suddenly asked.
The girl shook her head.
"One family," said the boy, "they had a daughter. About like you. They lived here happily. Until they had their second child."
"So, it's good," the girl was delighted, "the two children will have more fun."
The boy shook his head.
"No, the girl did not like that parents began to love the second child more than her , so she took a large knife in the kitchen and cut off his head. And the parents, when they found out everything, got scared, took the girl and left. Where, no one knows."
"You're lying," said the girl.
"No," the boy answered, "let's go, I'll show you everything."
But the girl was scared.
"I won't go."
"Don't be afraid, we won't go into the house," the boy said and went around, avoiding the nettle bushes far.
The girl followed him.
They walked around the house and stopped near the oldest tree. It was completely leafless, although other trees that grew far from home were covered in orange and red autumn foliage. A shallow hole was dug near the tree.
"Right here," said the boy, pointing to the hole, "they buried him here."
"Who?" asked the girl.
"A boy with a severed head."
"How do you know about it?" wondered the girl.
The boy raised his head high and the girl saw a terrible scar on his neck.
She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She wanted to run away, but her legs seemed to be rooted to the ground.
"Why did you do that?" suddenly asked the boy.
"What did I do?" the girl was surprised.
"Why did you cut off my head?"
The girl shook her head.
"No," she said, "it wasn't me. I would never do such a thing."
And she cried. But not because she was afraid of the boy. Not because of that at all.
The boy stood and looked at her.
People who were passing by the old house heard the crying and tried to get away as quickly as possible...
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