1945
"Papa Sergei! Papa Sergei!" There's a scary man in the woods again!" Seven-year-old Tyanna called out, a look of pure fright upon her face.
"Now, now my little Tsarina, what scary man?" Sergei Stanislav scooped up his little granddaughter as she came running toward him.
"I saw him again! He was there!" Tyanna buried her face in her granddad's neck, comforted by the scent of tobacco and woodsmoke.
"Oh, my little Tsarina, you have always seen the scary monsters that lurk in the shadows, haven't you? You inherited your father's imagination! I always said that he should have become an author instead of working in these woods with me and the rest of the men, but now maybe it will be you who can tell the ghost tales to the rest of the world someday!" Sergei patted the little girl's back.
"He was real Papa! I saw him before and today too!" Tyanna sniffled, finally opening her eyes and taking a guarded look around.
"See? Your boogeyman is not there, now is he, my little Tsarina?" Sergei replied as he noticed Tyanna looking around.
"No, not here, Papa," Tyanna looked into her grandfather's eyes. "He is always at the other place."
"What other place? Do you mean the campsite down the road?" Sergei was more concerned now.
Tyanna nodded her head.
"Tsarina, you must not go down there alone!" Sergei gently scolded. "That is too far for a small girl to walk alone in the woods. There are medvedi and volki out here!"
"I'm not scared of bears and wolves, Papa. I have only seen deer, birds, and raccoons, anyway." Tyanna replied more calmly now.
Sergei had heard the stories of a massacre that had supposedly happened at the old campsite some twenty years back, but never had a reason to believe it. Every place had its folklore and legends and he just assumed that these ghost stories were just that.
"Tell me about your scary man, Tsarina. What does he look like?"
"He is bigger than you, Papa," Tyanna looked around carefully once more. "I can't see his face, it is all black, like nighttime. Nothing is there, just dark."
She took a deep breath.
"What else?" Sergei marveled at his granddaughter's imagination and her ability to describe such details.
"He wears a big cloak, like the Ghost of Christmas Past," she went on.
Sergei smiled at the impact the Dickens story had made on his little granddaughter; he had always loved the story as well.
"Oh, and he has claws like a big dog," Tyanna said matter-of-factly.
Sergei laughed. "Oh, so like the Big Bad Wolf?"
"No, Papa!" Tyanna buried her head again. "Not volki! Don't make him mad, Papa or he will..." her voice trembled before she paused.
"He will what? What will this wolf-man do to me?" Sergei snickered.
"He will cut off your head too!" Tyanna started crying again.
The thought of decapitation was enough to halt Sergei's laughter; clearly, Tyanna's imagination had gone too far this time.
"Cut my head off...too? Who else's head got cut off?" He was serious now.
"I don't know, but it was a man at the other campsite," Tyanna looked around again. "His tongue was hanging out and everything, Papa!" There was true fear in her voice.
"The scary man was holding it up so I could see, then he laughed when I ran away."
"Oh, my little Tsarina, that is awful!" He stood up to carry the scared little girl inside one of the cabins.
He gently placed her onto one of the bunks and then tucked a soft quilt around her.
"You need some sleep, little one. Time for a nap. Your Papa will look for this scary man, okay?" He gently kissed her forehead.
"But I'm scared, Papa," Tyanna spoke through a yawn. It was well past her nap time.
"You do not need to be scared, Tsarina, as you are protected always," he took her hand.
"How am I protected?"
"Your very name - Tyanna - means that you are devoted to Iisus Khristos," Sergei placed her small hands between his, as he closed his eyes to pray.
"Protect us all, Lord Jesus. Especially my little Tyanna who loves you so. No more scary men for her in the woods. In Your name, Amen." Sergei kissed Tyanna's little hand.
"Say Amen, Tyanna." He prompted.
"No, Papa." Tyanna turned her head toward the wall. "It makes me feel sick in my tummy when I say it."
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