Land creatures. Russia

On one of the successful November evenings of 1665, Muscovites noisily crowded Red Square, staring anxiously curious at the distant sky, where, brightly shining with a long elegant tail, like a flirtatious beauty, a mysterious comet unceremoniously spread almost all over the sky.

Mark my words: it's not good... oh... this is not good!..— some ancient old woman was prophetically shambling. — Tea, did you hear how Saint Nikon himself, coming out of the Assumption Cathedral for the last time and angrily shaking the dust from his feet, said to the assembled people: "a broom will scatter you, a tailed star..." Oh, my heart feels, there will be trouble...

The crowd listened with particular interest to the story of the bearded man, who, busily frowning at his already wrinkled forehead, instructively interpreted the beardless guy standing next to him:

Have you heard, perhaps, not from your father, but at least from other old people, what punishment the Lord sent to the Russian kingdom before the invasion of the heretic Grishka Otrepiev? Various signs—both earthly and heavenly—foreshadowed grief everywhere at that time, which soon comprehended the whole of holy Russia. Two moons and two suns flashed in the sky at once, and previously unknown animals roamed the cities, which devoured people and each other. Bell towers collapsed from storms and whirlwinds, and pillars of fire rose in empty places at night; and as widespread famine came to all this, a general disaster began. The people, like ears of corn under a sickle, fell into Moscow by the thousands. They did not even think about bread, eating grass, horse meat and all sorts of evil spirits with grief. In desperation, the son encroached on the father without hesitation, the slave on the master, and the living suffocated from the stench of the dead and the unburied...

For a long time, similar rumors and tales of the people gathered in the square were heard from everywhere, for a long time the Muscovites, frightened by them, did not dare to take their eyes off the extraordinary celestial spectacle, and the ill-fated comet, as if laughing at all human fears and fears, seemed to shine even brighter in the sky. It was only late at night that the dejected citizens finally began to go home, apparently convinced that now there was nothing else to do but prepare by fasting and prayer for the upcoming Divine punishment.

However, contrary to the prophecy of Nikon and the talk of all experienced people, who looked so majestically from the height of the sky at our earth in 1665, the long-tailed comet soon began to pale for some reason and at one fine moment disappeared without a trace from the firmament, without harming anyone.

Undoubtedly, all those who met with such horror at the appearance of this peculiar, but quite safe, celestial body, subsequently complained a lot about themselves for having so thoughtlessly begun to interpret the will of the Creator of the universe in their own way. Is it not better to study this will on the basis of the data that science provides than to submit to an absurd feeling of fear?