“Wu, are you going out?”

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An old neighbor walked towards me with a handful of green vegetables.

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I forced a smile.

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It occurred to me to ask her to take a look at the boy’s picture before I left.

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I quickly turned around and held up the picture in front of her, “Aunty, do you know this boy?”

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My neighbor glanced at the picture. She looked at me with suspicious eyes and said, “The picture is blank. Is this a prank?”

I took a deep breath that refused to come back out and apologized to her, I felt a darkness covering my heart like a widows veil at funeral: My family is so unlucky. Why are these things happening to me?

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I didn’t want to give up just yet, so I asked a few more people.

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Some were acquaintances, some were strangers, but nevertheless, the photos were completely blank to them.

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With every confused stare I got from people that must have thought I was mad, I felt a coldness growing in my heart. It wasn’t easy for me to face the facts. I still wondered, why could my mother and Xue’er see it?

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I’d rather endure all this horror on my own than get them involved.

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I came back home with a forced smile after I hung out in the streets for a long while. We ate a fancy dinner, though it felt like I was chewing wax. I said good bye to my mom and Xue’er with mixed feelings.             

                                    

There was nothing I could do but send them away since Xue’er had to go to school on Monday and my home was far away from her school.

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I put the envelope I had hidden in my pocket into the box with the other envelopes. I had to figure everything out, even if it led me to my death. Now that my family had the risk of getting involved, I had to make sure they would never get hurt. Ever.

I tried to detach myself from the fear and confusion that clouded my mind. I knew I had to properly consider everything that had happened to me so far and come to a serious conclusion about what was going on.

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I sat down and attempted to recall every last detail. Let’s see, I received a letter once every three days. There were three pictures every time. The first one was always normal. The second one was always strange, and judging by the angles of the shots, the pictures could not have been taken by the murderer.

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Who took the pictures? What did the third one represent? A ghost?

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Every time I received the pictures, the person in them was already dead. Therefore, there was nothing I could do to save that person. Did they just want to frighten me or did they think I enjoyed getting these pictures?

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I wasn’t getting anywhere and I knew it. I classified all the pictures on my bed according to when I received them and their type, looking at the third category of picture, which were the strangest and most terrifying ones.

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If the first one was the target and the second one was their death, then the third one had to represent their ghost. I admit that I was worried about whether or not ghosts existed. I have always been doubtful.

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I had never looked at the pictures in detail, because I was so scared of them. Now as I scrutinized them, I realized that I was familiar with many of the locations where they were taken. After all, I lived in the same city.

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Most importantly, there was a vague outline of a house in the background of every picture. It looked like two photos were printed on top of each other.

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I fought back my horror. I made out the vague outline of a white, European-style house with Chinese influences. The house was not tall, and only had three floors.

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The more I saw the house in the picture, the more familiar it seemed. However, I could not remember where I’d seen it. Since it seemed so familiar, the house couldn’t have been too far away from my house. I rarely went very far away from my home; I was an indoors kind of guy.

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I stood up and went towards the computer, posting in the local BBS. As a veteran in the BBS forums, my posts always attracted attention.

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There were many idlers who used the forums and my post had accrued many replies before the evening was over.

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MoonStar: First comment!

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Diao Jihou: Second!

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Da Da Fang Fang: Looking to buy a house?

…

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Skipping the nonsense, I saw a piece of useful information at the bottom:

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Rujia Buddha: The original poster meant the ghost house in the middle of town.

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Seeing that last message, I couldn’t help but get excited, “I think I just found a lead…” I hurriedly replied to the comment:

 

@Rujia Buddha The ghost house is white and has three floors.

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Rujia Buddha replied immediately: If you add my WeChat number, we could talk about it.

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I rushed to my phone and opened up WeChat to add Rujia Buddha as a contact.

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I asked the same question as soon as I added Rujia Buddha’s number.

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Rujia Buddha: Do you plan on exploring that house? It’s a really evil place.

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I wrote: No, I just saw a picture and I wanted to know where it was.

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Rujia Buddha: Send me the picture.

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It was impossible for me to show him the picture. No one could see it even if I decided to show it. So I replied, “I don’t have the picture anymore.”

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Rujia Buddha: Alright, wait a moment.

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After that, he sent me a picture. When I clicked on it, I recognized the ghost house, although the angle of the shot was different and the outline of the picture I had was very vague.

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I’m sure every country has its own ghost stories. The story of this ghost house was one such location with ghost stories tied to it’s name, and it was actually a fairly popular story in my hometown. All my fears and worries must have caused some lapse in my memory.

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It was said the ghost house was once a brothel built in the early Chinese Republican era. However, its name has since been forgotten.

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It came to an end when the Japanese came to destroy it. Many prostitutes were tortured to death in the ghost house and their bodies were thrown out of the house. There were many dead people left behind after the Japanese left.

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It was a pity for the big house to be empty, poor people could not buy it and the rich simply didn’t want to buy it. They figured too many people had died there. This is why the house had become a wasteland over the years.

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When the city swallowed up Kaoshan Village, where the ghost house was located, many buildings around it were destroyed, but the ghost house was left untouched.

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As the city developed, the ghost house’s street became the center of the city. As the city grew more prosperous, the wild ghost house welcomed its first business. Nobody knew what it was called, because no one wanted to go there. About 21 people died in the ghost house without apparent reason within the first seven days, including tenants, workers for the design companies and laborers.

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The stories about the ghost house spread quickly. The government covered it up, but still, no one dares to go into the ghost house to this day. Even the businesses in the neighborhood had to close down.

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After all, life was more important than having a good location in the city.

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I was even more scared after making sure that the vague outline of a house in the photos was indeed the same as the ghost house.

Perhaps if I’d been there before, I would not have been scared of the house. Since it was still a mystery to me however, the very thought of it had my heart racing.

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After a lot of contemplation, I decided to leave home and go to Kaoshan Village, which was now called Kaoshan Road.

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In the past, my mom made a living so that she could care for Xue’er and me. Now it was time for me to carry everything on my shoulders, or else, I could probably end up dead. I grabbed my things and went to Kaoshan Road.

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When I arrived, I found out that the road was very crowded in the day time. After some searching, I found the white wall that guarded the front of the ghost house. I couldn’t help but notice that the urban legends about the companies in the neighborhood that had moved their businesses away from the house were false. They had not closed down as the legend claimed and even appeared to be making several sales. They were all open, including a watch stall to the right of the house. A gap of about 2 meters separated the haunted house from the watch stall.

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To the left of the haunted house was a shop with sign that claimed they sold grave clothes. Inside, a old woman with white hair sat inside swatting away at mosquitoes attempting to land on her.

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That old woman slowly turned, I hoped I was just imagining things, but I swear she was staring right at me.…