Horror on the track Stockholm - Oslo
I must say right away that the story is not mine, I heard it. Therefore, I transmit almost in the original.
I think that history is interesting and many will like it.
The road was smooth and fast. But after moving from Turku to Stockholm during the summer holidays, plus about 190 km on the road to Oslo, it is rather tiring to drive non-stop. It was already evening, around 20.00, so we decided to look for a campsite for an overnight stay. Usually at this time of day, all campsites are already packed to capacity and to find a free couple of beds is just real luck. Several campsites refused us shelter, so we had to stupidly move on and on.
And suddenly, 10-20 kilometers from Kalskoga (maybe a little more) on the right side of the road (if you go in the direction of Kalstad) we saw two high wooden piles with a crossbar attached between them with very friendly letters "Alltad camping" (maybe "alltaddy" - I don't remember exactly). We drove up - and, oh, a miracle!
It is written that it works all 24 hours! A very uncharacteristic event for campsites - usually there is no one at the reception already at 21-22 hours and the house, even if there is a free one, simply cannot be opened.
One click on the magic button and a pleasant mature male voice in decent English answers that there are empty seats. You can just fall from the repetition of a miracle! Around 22:00 there are free places in the campsite in Sweden (there are very few of them in Sweden compared to Norway)! Considering that all previous campsites are full, there are free places here. Well, we thought, maybe people just didn’t get to this place and settled closer to Stockholm. A 70-year-old grandfather comes out and asks his husband how many of us there are. I stayed in the car due to mortal fatigue.
Husband replies:
- There are two of us, and…
- And who?
-And a car.
Grandpa nods his head in agreement, but as he passes the car, he gives me a penetrating glance.
Seeing my answer, he fervently greets me with a gesture similar to saluting by the military.
He invites you to follow him. We drive to the campsite. Quite gloomy, but clearly visible are a couple of houses in which the doors are open, the lights are on and the glare of working TVs flashes cheerfully, and television speech is heard. Two cars are parked near the houses. Well, poor fellows like us stopped to sleep the night, so that in the morning we could leave fresh on our way.
The design is striking in its unusualness. On both sides of the entrance to the central building there are a lot of barrels, some of which are half dug into the ground and tightly covered with lids, some others are cut into three or four parts horizontally and also stacked on top of dug in fancy pyramids. In some crime report, the remains of the bodies were stored in the same barrels on the same private property for years. What stupid thoughts!
Long awaited bed and shower! Here's what you want right now!
For some reason, the door to the house has no handles, but it opens with an inserted key. Inside, it seems to be clean, there is a refrigerator, a microwave oven and a heater, but some kind of touch of old age and long-term non-attendance. But what nonsense is this - fatigue is so strong that it doesn’t matter anymore. Comfort is not needed - only a shower and a flat place to sleep are needed. There is a huge wooden cutting board on the fridge. It’s even strange - there is no stove, only a microwave, dishes, no forks, knives, but there is a cutting board. I put it away, because it’s even unpleasant to look at its size. One corner of the room was blocked by some kind of structure resembling a pantry, but there was no handle on its doors, and the door itself was closed with a lock, reminiscent of a window lock with an inserted handle - as they used to close windows in Soviet schools.
Another unpleasant moment is to sleep in a room where there is some kind of closed room with unknown contents.
But I really want to relax! While the husband was paying off with his grandfather, she went to see what was there behind the fence. You can go crazy! There was a pool measuring 10 by 4 meters with a blue painted bottom, but yellow water. A circumstance that is completely incompatible with the word camping - I have never seen pools, although I have probably visited 30 campsites in Finland, Sweden and Norway. Water of some jelly-like consistency, but without a single leaf or twig on the surface - there is a net nearby. Returning to the house, I found out that the cost of the house for the night is 400 kroons. There is no check - but oh well, let grandfather pay less tax. In general, the usual price for well-maintained campsites. But this one should cost 200-250 crowns. But I really want to sleep, and there is no time to look for another campsite.
It's already getting dark… By the way, grandfather estimated the shower at 5 kroons for 9 minutes - just for nothing against the background of the usual price of 5 kroons for 3 minutes! What a kind person: he works 24 hours a day, and he has free houses after 6 pm, and the shower is almost free... Just some kind of happiness fell on us on a quiet Swedish evening! - I thought, watching my grandfather leaving for his house.
We quickly unloaded the necessary things, laid out the sleeping bags on the beds, and, grabbing the bath accessories, jumped into the shower. I went through the kitchen - there are several old-fashioned washing machines, a stove, a microwave. Everything smells of the 50s-60s, as if time has stood still here for several decades. The plumbing is also very old. A shower of this kind, as if I ended up in a student hostel from the times of Soviet stagnation. I wanted to hang a towel, but running my finger along the bar, I was convinced that it had not been washed for several months. The question is - didn’t other guests wash here?
They would even wipe this dust with their things. Starting to brush your teeth, and looking around, I saw a shield for receiving payment for the shower. Such junk even, probably, could not hang in Soviet hostels! All scribbled, peeling, and for some reason the hole for the coin is turned outward. Even if someone tried to get the coin back, he couldn't do it from the inside! There are too many suspicious things I discover here, even though I was extremely tired and sleep deprived on the ferry! Continuing to brush my teeth, I decided to see who lives there in those houses with burning lights and TVs. While walking towards them, my eyes fell on the window, behind which, on a wide windowsill, artificial flowers in pots stood in several rows. There were so many of them that it began to remind me of some kind of funeral room. Somehow it got scary.
When I looked out the window, behind this mass of flowers I saw an even more significant mass of toys. They sat on chairs at the tables, they were laid out on the tables, they lay on the shelves up to the ceiling, they just stood on the floor. I was struck by a huge cook who stood half-turned to the window. The first thought is that grandfather probably loves children very much, since he has slides in the yard, and a pool has been made, and such a room has been organized. While this thought was flying in my head, my legs brought me to the next window, looking into which I was amazed at the devastation that reigned there: one wall did not exist at all, the other was dilapidated, a broken table, broken chairs, everything was in some kind of white dust. It became scary for the second time, but I tried to fill in the bad thoughts that crept in with the thought of a simple repair.
In order to finally calm myself down, and maybe chat about this campsite, still brushing my teeth (now, probably, mechanically), I went to the houses in which the lights were on and the doors were open. Coming closer, I... did not see anyone! Here, all the horror has already penetrated me from head to toe! It turns out that there is no one in the campsite except for us and this grandfather! And it turns out there were a lot of houses, 20-30 pieces (which is also not typical for campsites - usually 10 pieces, maybe five more for families with children, but there are no such cabins standing in rows of the same type, going deep into the forest). And all are empty! And the two cars standing by the houses, most likely, did not leave here for ten years.
With all my might, I rushed to our house. On the way, I met two chubby rabbits, who were jumping merrily on the grass, barely visible in the ensuing darkness. Even these cute creatures did not comfort me.
Luckily for me, my husband, who was still alive, opened the jamming door, but to my convulsive whisper that I would not stay here and that I needed to pack things back into the car, he tried to calm me down. Moreover, the money has already been paid. I invited him to look into the "friendly" houses with such homely burning lights and working TVs, and I myself rushed to the shower to pick up bath accessories. I quickly started throwing things into the car. The returned husband agreed that the houses were really empty and it was very strange even for him. True, he tried to argue in favor of camping (as it seemed to him) - along the way he met a black man - which means that this camping is not like that and empty. God, also ebony! I wonder who cuts up the corpses: does grandfather do it himself or does this black man help him?
We decided to quickly load things and quickly drive closer to the highway (because if the wheels are punctured or the road is blocked, it will not be possible to get out of here), and then go to collect our money. While collecting things, a car drove through the campsite, which stopped briefly at the entrance and drove onto the highway. Is it not this Negro who went for rich clients who will come to the new lured "meat" to satisfy their animal sadistic instincts? I immediately remembered the horror film "Hostel" and several others with maniacs in the lead roles. You can accuse me of paranoia or laugh, but believe me - it was not funny. Some kind of surreal surreal world with frozen time decades ago. Strangeness at every turn and a constant sense of danger and the feeling that you are being watched! I love adventure, but only to the limit of the danger of life.
Women always feel danger better than men - we have it on an instinctive level. And I have never felt such danger in my life as I did tonight!
Leaving the campsite, almost already to the highway, we got out of the car and called my grandfather. After apologizing, they said that they urgently needed to go further, since friends, it turns out, ordered us a house in another campsite further along the highway, and that they would like to get their money back. To which he began to say that he could not return the money to us, because . . and then a patter of excuses. I reminded him that we could go to the police, to which he replied that he would be right there. Went out quickly, carrying only 300 crowns. We decided that this would be enough, we extended our hands. Then the grandfather began to convulsively cough on the money, covering his mouth with it. This lasted for 10-15 seconds, after which he gave the money to me (then I had to sterilize my hands for a long time).
Without saying a word, we got into the car and drove home, rejoicing that everything ended so well. I had to stay at a hotel for 900 crowns, but I have never had such a calm and sound sleep as in this hotel. Security and a sense of security is still a great thing.
By the way, there was a great desire to ask the police to check this citizen for his labor activity. Or, at least, to hear in response that this grandfather is a well-known mentally ill person for a long time and no one stops at his campsite, because everyone knows this. Although it is strange that in Sweden it is allowed to keep camping, which is a disgrace to the whole country (if you hope for the best and do not think about the manic nature of this phenomenon). But it would take half a day to find a police station (no police stations are listed in the navigator) - and Russians have too little time and money to spend a whole day looking for the police.
I just want to warn my compatriots to be more attentive, even if fatigue knocks them down.
Dear compatriots! Remember this name "Alltad (alltaddy? )camping" to the right of the Stockholm-Oslo highway between Karlskoga and Karlstad (closer to Karlskoga). If you want peace, don't go there. Who craves extreme - the address is indicated.