The worst part was that the more I started thinking about it, the more sense it made. Our trip to the hostel on Magurka ... Is that why my grandfather forbade me to talk to Tadek when we were passing other tourists? Why didn't he buy himself some food? Because three bowls on the table would look at least strange? In addition, the faces of my grandparents when I first told them about Tadek and their appearance, when I talked to him in their presence.
It was too much for me. I had to sleep with what I had learned and look at it from a different perspective in the morning. However, when I woke up the next day, nothing looked better. Grandma still claimed that my childhood friend was invented, but I shouldn't worry so much. I thought otherwise. I was sure that Tadek really existed. I couldn't explain it, but I felt like it couldn't just be my imagination. I needed a plan to act and find out the truth.
The first idea that came to my mind was to visit the nearest library and archives about the village. If my friend existed, there would have to be some documents about him, he mentions. Maybe something terrible happened to him, and Grandma preferred that I stop thinking about him instead of looking for him? I wanted to believe it.
Checking the history of the house turned out to be a really difficult task and required me to go to several offices, where I had to give false information about why I needed such data. I pretended to be someone who was interested in buying a house, but before buying, he would like to know its history from the most reliable sources. According to the archive, no one has lived in Tadek's house for more than fifty years.
I also checked the old newspapers. Maybe they mistook me for buildings and didn't check the house I was supposed to check. Watching the press ten years ago turned out to be an interesting activity. People wrote about how they see Wilkovice in the future. Their diagnoses sometimes worked, although in most cases they were far from reality.
They didn't write much about the people in the area. In many newspapers there were only photos of a girl who disappeared ten years ago, about 12 years old. Smiling chubby face, light eyes and black hair in a thick braid. After a while, they stopped writing about her, so she had to find herself. I wasn't really interested though, even though her look caused mixed feelings in me. I wondered if I knew her from somewhere. After a moment of horror, I gave up. I had enough on my mind.
I did not return to my grandmother's house until late in the evening. Stress, fatigue, and anxiety. I was afraid that Tadka wasn't there. This thought caused me indescribable fear, and the worst part was that I couldn't do anything about it. He was powerless against something like that. He couldn't fight, but he only accepted the terrifying prospect in which you can't trust your own mind, and what you thought was true never existed. Spiele bei 1xbet Germany und nutze Top-Quoten.