Agach-kishi
The wind, sharp with the scent of pine and the icy breath of Elbrus, whispered ancient tales. It rustled through the gorges, tumbled down the rocky slopes, reaching the ears of shepherds, hunters, and all who dared to listen to the voice of the mountains. One of the most unsettling narratives is the story of the Agach-kishi, the forest people, whose existence is shrouded in a veil of mystery and fear.
They are children of the twilight, born of the age-old forests where sunlight is a rare visitor. Their bodies are covered in thick, matted hair, the color of dried leaves and moss. Their faces, contorted in a grimace of perpetual hunger, vaguely resemble human features, but their bestial nature is evident in their low, sloping foreheads and deep-set eyes, burning with an unsettling fire. A sharp, animalistic odor emanates from them, a smell of wild beast and decaying earth, a smell that, once encountered, is never forgotten.
By day, the Agach-kishi hide in the impenetrable thickets, in the hollows of giant trees, in dark caves where even echoes fear to whisper. But with the onset of night, when the moon carves a silver sickle through the inky blackness, they emerge from their lairs. Hunger drives them towards human settlements. Under cover of darkness, silent as shadows, they steal towards gardens and orchards. And here, a strange, disturbing peculiarity of these creatures manifests itself: they don discarded human clothing. Tattered shirts, worn trousers, hole-ridden shoes — everything that humans have rejected becomes for the Agach-kishi a semblance of a mask, a pathetic parody of humanity. This contrast — the wild, animalistic essence hidden beneath the rags of civilization — evokes a primal terror, chilling the blood in the veins.
The elders say that an encounter with the Agach-kishi is a bad omen. They are the embodiment of wild nature, hostile to humans, a reminder of the ancient, dark forces that lurk in the depths of the mountains. And while no one can say for certain whether these creatures are real or merely a figment of the imagination, the fear of them lives in the hearts of the mountain people, passed down from generation to generation, whispered in hushed tones, accompanied by the howling wind in the mountain gorges. Every rustle in the night’s stillness, every indistinct silhouette in the moonlight, serves as a reminder of them — the Agach-kishi, the forest people, lost between the world of beasts and the world of men.
*****
The wind whipped viciously at my face, carrying shards of icy rain. Mount Elbrus, shrouded in a misty veil, loomed silently above me, like an ancient god indifferent to my paltry search. I had been in these cursed mountains for a week, chasing the phantom hope of finding the Agach-Kishi — a legendary creature, half-man, half-ape, rumored to roam these woods, clad in the tattered remnants of human clothing.
Night fell swiftly, like a predator stalking its prey. I made a small camp at the foot of the mountain, near the edge of the forest. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows on the tree trunks, transforming them into grotesque monsters. Suddenly, through the crackling flames, I heard it — a low growl that made my hair stand on end. My heart hammered in my chest like a trapped bird. Grabbing my flashlight, I plunged into the woods, the source of the sound drawing me deeper into the trees.
The beam of my flashlight danced across the trees, their gnarled branches like clawed hands reaching out from the darkness. The growling grew closer, more distinct. Suddenly, I saw it. A large, hunched figure was rummaging through a pile of rubbish left by tourists. It was draped in rags that barely covered its powerful frame. This was it! The Agach-Kishi!
With a cry of triumph, I rushed forward, but at that very moment, the creature turned sharply, illuminated by my flashlight. My triumphant cry died in my throat. It wasn’t the Agach-Kishi. It was a man. An ordinary homeless man, scavenging for food in the discarded refuse. His face, gaunt and grimy, was contorted in a mask of terror at the sight of me. He yelped and bolted, vanishing into the darkness.
All my excitement evaporated, leaving only emptiness and a vague sense of shame. I stood alone in the dark forest, surrounded only by the rustling leaves and the cold wind. And somewhere out there, in the impenetrable darkness, perhaps the real Agach-Kishi lurked, watching me with burning eyes.
