Although this happened many years ago, I still feel scared when I recall it. I almost died because of those experiences.

 

The first event happened in 1991, not 1891 or 2091, because I’m still younger than thirty years old. I’m not from the future. I mean, come on. I’m just an ordinary guy.

 

Although I am now and always have been a common person, what happened to me was everything but common.

 

Okay. Let's get to the point. The first part, in ’91 happened when I was 6 years old. The story begins as most horror stories usually do, with a dead person in the village.

 

In our small village, people would help each other with events like funerals or marriages. The children in rural areas like mine didn't typically get a preschool education so my mom would bring me along to help. In reality, she was just worried that I would mess up the house if she left me alone.

 

Our people always had an innate horror of the dead, especially the children. I had refused to enter in the house we went to. After some squalling on both our parts, my mom finally asked me to play with the children on the street outside the house. A house, which I may mention, was terrifying.

 

Words fell out of people’s mouths as they came in and out of the house. Gradually, I found out that the dead person we’d come to fuss over was a seventy-year-old woman stricken down by illness. She had a son named Xiao Chun. He was dumb and foolish, dumpy and weird, and all around fun to mess with or watch struggle. He walked in a jittering way with an open mouth and silly smile. Everyone around the village called him “Dummy.”

 

The older children in the village bullied Xiao Chun because he was one and a half meters tall with an even shorter IQ, despite his age.

 

Though he was bullied, tripped, mocked, and spurned by the rest of us, he never got angry.

 

When my mother disappeared into the house, I played games with a friend of mine called Zhao Jie just outside the door of the fabled home of Xia Chun. We made a pile of sand and put a stick inside it. We’d push around the sand until someone brought the towering stick down, that person would be the loser.

 

Zhao Jie lived in my neighborhood, and his parents were farmers. His father was famous for his knowledge about feng shui in the village. He often searched for good locations to build a house or a tomb, for a fee of course, though sometimes he would be kind enough to provide these services were free.

 

Xiao Chun’s mother raised him on her own, since his father had died when he was just a baby. Unfortunately, Xiao Chun was dumb and foolish. He never did a thing unless he was specifically instructed to do so. Inevitably, his family led a poor life.

 

Zhao Jie’s father found a great place to create a tomb for Xiao Chun’s mother, and him being the gentleman that he was, he did it free of charge.

 

In fact, it was decided that her tomb would be located beside her late husbands’. Zhao Jie’s father just went through the motions, spouting facts that I could not understand at the time.

 

As the adults floundered around in urgency, I was playing with Zhao Jie. He was better at this than I was. He pushed aside more sand at a time than I could.

 

I watched him and scolded, "Zhao Jie, you’re cunning enough to keep up with the Japanese."

 

Zhao Jie smiled, "Hey, have you seen their movies? Japanese people do foolish things too! But you’re right, I’m smart enough to belong to the Eight Route Army, the good one.”

 

Just when Zhao Jie and I had finished our game, Xiao Chun, dressed appropriately for mourning, walked out the door. The smile on his face did not quite fit the somber mood or his attire.

 

He rushed towards us when he saw what we were playing. Zhao Jie and I were startled and instinctively turned around to run. Not that we were cowards, we were just defenseless kids! The dummy giggled and kicked our pile of sand before turning around and giggling as we ran away.

 

Leaving the demolished pile of sand, Xiao Chun turned around to enter his home.

 

Realizing what had just happened, Zhao Jie shouted from behind me and threatened, "Listen up Dummy, I’m bullying you the second I make it to first grade."

 

Most of the children in school had a tendency of bullying the Dummy. Since Zhao Jie and I never had a preschool education, we figured we hadn’t earned the right to bully anyone, yet.  

 

We returned to our game after the kid left, but the sand was scattered everywhere. With half of what we’d started with, Zhao Jie led the search for more fun.

 

The floor at the base of Dummy’s house was pounded solid, so we couldn’t dig out any sand. We searched around for a softer area.

 

After a while, I brought a handful of sand and Zhao Jie brought some wood ashes.

 

While a bit dirtier, ashes would do a decent job.

 

“Where’d you get that?” I asked him. He pointed at a pit in the distance, saying "Over there."

 

People in the village cooked using wood. The left over ashes were poured into the pigpen or a cattle enclosure. Wood ashes were good desiccant for the animal enclosures. Mom said it prevented disease.

 

The dummy didn’t have any domestic animals, so he made a pit to pour ashes.

 

Zhao Jie also said, "We were also using ashes before too, but we had more sand than ashes."

 

Zhao Jie and I brought more wood ashes and started to play. Just as we placed the stick upright in the pile, the dummy walked out the door. He rushed towards us.

 

Like the brave rabbits we were….we ran away. The dummy kicked the pile of sand again. Our collections scattered in the direction of the pit.

 

Zhao Jie and I were gloomier this time around.

 

The dummy shouted a warning at us in after he destroyed our second sand pile.

 

A crowd of grown ups were giggling behind the doorway. The boy was foolish enough to bully children when he should be mourning his mother.

 

“Maybe he’s just angry?” someone said, “His mom died so he doesn’t want kids to play in the doorway.”

 

My mom came out and ushered us off to play in the distance.

 

Zhao Jie’s father walked out saying, "Who scattered those ashes? Sweep ‘em away. The ghost will haunt you if you scatter the ashes early."

 

Uncle Sun smiled next to him and said, "Black Zhao, your son did that with the Shi’s son, though it was destroyed by Xiao Chun"

 

Uncle Sun’s words slipped into the wind and Black Zhao tensed up with urgency. He huffed at us to sweep them away with the whiskbroom and dustpan. “The ghost will haunt both of you if you don’t sweep them away!”

 

We started sweeping immediately. Children around here are scared of ghosts more than anything else. I mean, of course I wasn’t, but I was just thinking of poor Zhao Jie. To avoid the ghosts, we cleaned the Dummy’s doorway.

 

When we finished the sweeping and gave back the dustpan, Zhao Jie’s father said, "Xiao Jie, Shi Yong, ghosts dislike wood ashes because the nature of fire belongs to Yang. You scattered the ashes at the doorway before the first seventh night, which would hinder his mother from coming back. “She must have asked Dummy to kick away the ashes.” he told us, “If you piled them again, I bet that  boy would try to kick your butts.”

 

We didn't understand at the time. However, we were shocked when we heard that Dummy’s mother had made him do that. Could the dead speak? Was it a ghost that had ordered the boy’s actions?

 

With a hint of fear, Zhao Jie and I moved our games far away. We didn't dare get close to the doorway any more.

 

Uncle Sun sitting in the doorway smiled and mocked, "Black Zhao, you always talk about ghosts. I have not seen any trace of ghosts in my sixty years on this earth. Are you trying to make your son and the son of Shi would frightened until they’re ill? If I saw that woman’s ghost, I would probably marry her."

The onlookers laughed.

 

Zhao Jie’s father smiled and said, "Uncle Sun, there are ghosts whether you believe it or not. I have my beliefs and I respect these entities. You shouldn’t disrespect the ghosts even if you don't believe in them. You should apologize for your words, just in case the spirits are bothered."

 

Zhao Jie’s father clapped his chest dramatically.

 

Uncle Sun laughed and said, "If there are ghosts, I wouldn’t be scared of them. Perhaps I would invite them in for dinner and some stories."

 

Zhao Jie sighed. He began to speak, but he chose to keep quiet instead.