If a woman with empty water buckets approaches, it’s a bad omen

Setting: A cold morning in a quiet Russian town. Ivan and Sasha, longtime friends in their early 30s, are walking to the local market. Snow crunches beneath their boots, and their breath clouds the air.

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Ivan: (stopping abruptly)
Sasha! Wait! Stop walking.

Sasha: (confused)
What? Why? Did you forget your wallet again?

Ivan:
No, worse. Look! Over there — that woman. She’s coming straight toward us… with two empty buckets.

Sasha: (squinting at the elderly woman with two aluminum pails)
And?

Ivan:
It’s a bad omen! You know that! If a woman with empty buckets crosses your path in the morning, your whole day goes to hell.

Sasha: (laughs)
Oh, come on, Ivan. You really believe that? That poor babushka’s just on her way to fetch water. What, should she walk backward to trick the spirits?

Ivan: (seriously)
Don’t mock. Last month, remember that day I lost my phone in the snowdrift? Same thing. I ran into a woman with empty buckets and dropped my eggs five minutes later.

Sasha:
You dropped your eggs because you were trying to text your cousin and carry four bags of groceries with one hand. That’s not bad luck — that’s poor decision-making.

Ivan: (pointing his finger like a lawyer in court)
Coincidences stack up, Sasha. You know how many times I’ve had awful days start just like this?

Sasha:
Yes. And I also know how many times you caused your own bad day. Like when you locked yourself out because you left your keys in the freezer. No water buckets involved there, my friend.

Ivan:
But the belief has been around for generations. My babushka said it, her babushka said it. There must be some truth to it.

Sasha: (grinning)
And my grandfather used to say whistling indoors brings poverty. Yet he whistled every day while fixing shoes and had more customers than he could handle. Traditions aren’t always truths — sometimes they’re just old habits dressed as wisdom.

Ivan: (shrugging)
Still, why take the risk? I say we wait here for five minutes until she’s gone.

Sasha: (mock dramatic)
Fine. But what if waiting here makes us late and then we miss the good bread? Then we’ll have no pirozhki, and that’ll be the real tragedy.

Ivan:
Better late with breadless regret than cursed by the buckets of doom.

Sasha: (laughs and puts a hand on Ivan’s shoulder)
You know what? Let’s test this. We’ll go to the market right after crossing her path. If something truly terrible happens before noon — I’ll carry your empty buckets for a week.

Ivan:
And if nothing happens?

Sasha:
Then you owe me a science book. Preferably one without bucket-related curses.

Ivan: (reluctantly)
Fine. But if we get trampled by a rogue cow or fall into a snowdrift, I told you so.

Sasha:
Deal. Let’s brave the babushka. Maybe she’ll bless us with the opposite — the mystical luck of rationality.

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They walk past the woman, who nods kindly. Ivan flinches. Sasha waves cheerfully. Nothing happens. Yet.