Night fishing

I’ll say right away that I am an incorrigible materialist, but the story that happened to me still causes me confusion. It is connected with mysticism quite relatively, but it actually happened, nothing was made up.

After seventh grade in 1980, mythe family decided to move from the Kirov region to the Rostov region, closer to our relatives, where there was a lot of sun, warmth and abundance of fruit. Aunt,Mother's sister and her family lived three kilometers from Kamensk-Shakhtinsky on the banks of the Seversky Donets. My cousinmy brother , who was a year older than me, was an avid fisherman and spent time on the river from morning to night. I also became addicted to fishing. And so my brother and I once decided to organize night fishing.

Sailing on a boat to unfamiliar places, throwing out fishing rods and nets, sitting by the fire at night, cooking fish soup and returning home with the catch, what could be better? No sooner said than done. Having taken the necessary supplies in the evening, we decided to take a boat upstream about eight kilometers, where in the middle of the river there was a rather large island covered with deciduous forest. It is worth mentioning the surrounding area. One bank of the Seversky Donets was high and steep, the other was flat. The area is steppe, covered in places with small oak groves and wild orchards. There were no swamps in this area. According to the brother, the island was located in a deserted area; the nearest settlement was about five kilometers away.

Having reached the island, we set up a small net for the night, caught fish for fish soup with fishing rods, set up a tent and started making a fire. It's starting to get dark. Having talked a lot, had a hearty dinner, and drunk beer (we didn’t drink vodka then), we began to get ready for bed. We decided to keep the fire going until the morning and set up a watch; I had to watch until two in the morning, my brother from two until the morning. The mood is excellent, a wonderful summer night, full of secrets and adventures, the moon, the company of my brother. We felt like Robinsons on an uninhabited island that belonged only to us. And now my brother is already snoring in the tent, and I am sitting alone, warming myself by the fire and occasionally throwing in dry branches. Suddenly, a heartbreaking roar is heard from the direction of the gently sloping shore. According to my feelings, its source was a kilometer test-antibiotic.com or two from the shore. To say that it was the cry of a man, a wolf or a dog is to say nothing. The scream was so ferocious and deafeningly loud that it would have been more suitable for an elephant, a dinosaur or the Hound of the Baskervilles from the film of the same name. Even the roar in the death throes of a bull, horse or cow was much weaker. It was so terrible that, in church terms, it could be compared to the cry of the devil from the underworld.

I froze in a stupor, out of the corner of my eye I saw my frightened brother crawling out of the tent. He also heard this in a dream and began to ask me what it could be, as if I knew everything. Fearing that this something could see our fire from the shore, we quickly put it out and, even being afraid to go to the tent, we ran about fifty meters from our campsite and sat down under some tree, afraid to move. So we sat in fear until dawn. But we heard no more of this horror. At dawn, we decided to check and remove the net - we couldn’t return home without a catch. But this crazy test-antibiotic.com cry haunted my brother and me for many years.