I asked him not to tell ghost stories again and again, and he talked about the reason why his little mother was dependent on her for most of the time, and her livelihood was difficult. The most unbearable thing was that she was unable to get married and broke her heart. Suddenly one day, her mother died. Fortunately, he came back in Guangxi because of poor news, and her mother had already been buried.
Since then, in his hometown, his mother has become a ghost among the neighbors. Every night, the villagers in the neighborhood will meet his mother. She will ask everyone if her son is married. These words are almost absurd. Of course, he won’t believe it, but he said that there are too many people. After drinking several times, he was sad to buy a plane ticket and fly back to his hometown. The mulberry forest car oil mill has been ruined. He has looked for her where she will be, but he has never seen her again.
I generally understand why he refuses to tell ghost stories. I hardly tell ghost stories like him. The reason is that a distant relative of mine should call her aunt. Her death was a catastrophe. When the couple crossed the Han River, she fell into the water and died. My uncle could watch her being swept away by the rapids, but the body was not found. Unexpectedly, death did not divide them in his uncle’s field of vision, but in the rest of his life, she did not go far, but turned into a ghost and returned to her side.
In the uncle’s narrative, his wife is almost everywhere, and she can be easily seen when she is drunk and ill in the ridge city. When they talk to each other, they care about each other. As a result, my aunt has become the most famous ghost in Fiona Fang for dozens of years. Her stories have become more and more sensational, but the most sensational is still in her uncle’s mouth. One day, he went home wet and told his children that he had just fallen into the water in the Han River, and his life and death were limited, and his mother suddenly hissed.
Strangely enough, since then, although my aunt said that she never stopped, my uncle kept silent, just as he believed that his wife had spent ten years after her death. Until he died, he believed that her had been reborn, but he also believed that a bodhisattva indicated the truth.
With my aunt’s backing, I really escaped almost like a fish. The ghost story is terrible, but I often feel that those ghosts are amiable. There is no shortage of ghosts in the ghost story. It seems that the shadow is even worse in people. Because this is a story, I feel that the static world has been stretched a little bit in the ghost story. After the confusion of Yin and Yang, the heavy flesh and lust have become secret.
Therefore, most of the mysterious words are not to my liking. In the jade calendar, ghosts live in the same way as purgatory, and Ding Zhili’s ghosts return to Yang to cheat. It is said that when people drink, the wine in the cup is reduced. That is mostly because ghosts steal to drink. Fortunately, they also search for a strange story in a strange story in a strange story in a strange story in a strange story in a strange story in a strange story in a strange story in a strange story. Ye Sheng has been wandering for a long time, but his friends have died. After searching for a strange story in a strange story in a strange story in a strange story, prostitutes still struggle to stay at the bottom
It’s similar to the story of Ye Sheng in Strange Tales from a Lonely Studio. I also heard it once. It was in a small village in Yunnan. I came here to live and write about staying in an abandoned old house. Within a few days, I had a high fever and shivered, and I was almost typhoid fever. I went to the clinic for several times, but it was always bad. When I didn’t know it was a good time, the villagers came to show me how to burn incense in front of a grave at the foot of the mountain, saying that I would be cured. Of course, I was puzzled and the bearer was kind enough to tell me about the ghost story that happened in
However, the owner of this old house used to be a troupe musician who played the piano with the squad leader for 20 years. Although he has been alone for 20 years, fortunately, he was taken care of by the squad leader and walked around the streets without starving to death. Once the troupe crossed the border to Myanmar to play because of its good performance, it was intended to keep him. After the performance, the squad leader did not leave, but stayed in the warlord’s house to work hard, waiting for him to be released. Two years later, chaos broke out in Myanmar, and the warlord was shot and killed. Only then did they return to Yunnan.
Yunnan is also a troubled time. The squad leader has been cooking for a long time, so he came to find a musician to join the class again. Unexpectedly, the musician came back from Myanmar and got up in bed for some time. However, although the musician generously promised to struggle to get up and follow the squad leader for another ten years, he did not return to this small village until the squad leader died.
When the musician returned to the village to meet him, it turned out to be a panic. When the VIP saw him, he immediately fled in fear. He looked around disconsolately and didn’t know whether to ask someone to ask why. This question was left to him with great panic. As early as ten years ago, he had died and wandered outside with the squad leader for ten years, not his body but his soul. Of course, the musician did not believe it for three days and three nights and tried his best to ask everyone. It was not until he helped him bury people and took him to his grave that he wailed and disappeared into the mountains.
However, since the Republic of China, the musician’s soul has often stopped people in the middle of the road to answer whether he is a person or a ghost or a person, and he was glad to leave. If he didn’t know the answer correctly, he would probably give me a disaster. This time, although I was not stopped by him, I was staying in his old residence, so I was afraid that he would have to do something.
After listening to the past of my former residence, of course, I bought paper money incense sticks and burned them at the musician’s grave. It is strange to say that after two days, my fever and trembling all died, so I went to sit in front of the grave with paper money incense sticks. When I was sitting there, my heart was full of resentment and sympathy. evil influence was always far from homesickness, and it was not surprising that he could not be human, but he had not done enough to be a man. I want to say this, it is also the only way to be greedy for people.
People and ghosts are afraid of losing the sun, which is their hometown. No matter how many souls are surrounded outside the Meng Po store in Naiqiao Stripping Pavilion, it doesn’t violate the law. It’s recorded in the Tang Dynasty that a ghost in a barren mountain and a wild lake cries all day long and listens quietly. Only then do we know that because people in the lake have been addicted to it for hundreds of years, since people can replace him, they can’t be reincarnated. However, it’s been too long since the ghost book can’t find his name. Yang is another person. He sacrifices to him, and he really becomes a lonely soul. Wild ghosts read the fate of
After reading too many strange words, I occasionally fall into the thought that I can’t see my fingers. Ghosts imagine that the hometown of Jiyang is Jingzhou, Liubei or Leiyin Temple in Tang Sanzang. This idea is not from my cave, but with a little attention, I can read too many ghosts’ earthly love. Ouyang Xiu lived in the four fields of Miancheng, but only by singing and crying did I find that he passed by an old battlefield. In Jiaqing, Qinhuai River was bleak and desolate at midnight. It is said that many singers were here when the Qing army entered.
This requires a memorial to a man who met a skeleton by the river in the first year of the Tang Dynasty. He was just about to break away from the sound and said that he was ashamed. Thanks for thousands of years, this compassion has never stopped running in the wind, sand and stars, and it has finally become two festivals. Although there is no New Year’s Eve in Qing and July, people are also emotional and attentive. I want to say that these two days are like two letters, and I am still doing well here, and I am like a few glasses of thin wine. You can’t get drunk and don’t be a ghost. If not, you will need a little life.
In a small town with strong witchcraft in Xiangxi, I rushed to a ghost offering ceremony on July 16th.
The ghost story in this town is like this. Because we are in the Miao and Han Dynasties, there are many swords and soldiers, and there are many ghosts that are difficult to disturb. Every year on July 16th, we will sacrifice ghosts in the Town God Temple. It is July 16th. Because the day before last is July and a half, the ghosts visit relatives and friends. This is not allowed to break the rules, but some souls are curled up or wandering. This will break the rules and will drive them away. They will be sent to their proper places on July 16th. Sacrificing ghosts here is actually exorcism.
I don’t know if it’s because of the excessive witchcraft. I just came to the town a few days ago and I heard about several ghosts disturbing people. One is that the clock at the entrance of the town hospital has been rotting for many years, but it has been ringing these days. Whenever it rings, even if there is no wind, the leaves beside the clock will flutter inexplicably. It must be that ghosts gather here. The other one happened in front of a wine shop, and people shouted in the middle of the night to buy a hotel owner. Neighbors followed, but they never saw a trace of people. This is a ghost. All the villagers said it. Chisel directly asked me if I saw a ghost. Of course, I shook my head. They repeatedly told me the truth that the town was not a ghost, and many of them walked into the city god temple against the corner before night, but it doesn’t matter. Every soul can be recognized by the Taoist priest on July 16.
However, on the night of July 16th, the names of new souls and old souls were written on yellow paper. Before each piece of yellow paper, an oil lamp was lit, and the lamps were extinguished in a row. Which lamp was extinguished early, it was said that the owner of this lamp was awake and resigned. Although it was a good day, it was not a long time to stay. Today, it was a year away, but more lamps were not extinguished. It was like staying in bed. It was like sitting on a car bench and reluctant to drive. The monks roared and firecrackers. Zhong Kui was like a golden pheasant paper-cut monk who was scattered on the side of a high-hanging half-
So more souls resigned themselves to the fact that the lamps were gradually extinguished, and only a few lamps were still on. One of them burned the brightest. It is said that the dead behind it was also the most unbearable before her death. A seven-year-old girl’s mother died when she was one year old, and her father made a living all the year round. One day, she was burned to death in the kitchen by fire while cooking for herself.
At the end of the day, except for the brightest light, all the lights went out, and the Taoists came. The Taomujian thought the same thing. Once the last weapon was lit and the flame flashed twice, it suddenly became dim, and it was about to be extinguished. But at the last crucial moment, he suddenly burst into tears. The Taomujian was snatched by the one hand and thrown into the night. When he looked intently, he threw it away. The Taomujian was a young man covered in mud, with his luggage on his shoulders, but he came from a distant place. He cried and walked through the Taoists to protect him desperately.
If you don’t tell him, he is the father of the dead girl.
Then people kept going to persuade the young father to tell others that it was a waste of time. People in the city were also ghosts. He should let the dead go all the way, but the young father hugged the lamp without saying a word and wept bitterly. Several distant relatives also went forward as if to snatch the lamp. Unexpectedly, the young father suddenly pushed everyone to protect the flame and ran wildly. In fact, no one ran after him, but he fell into a great madness and panicked while shouting. Fortunately, the river in front of the city god temple was not deep. He stumbled from the river.
It must be admitted that in the crowd, I want to cry a little. There are no ghosts in the world. There are no sad people in the world. Those lonely villages and monsters encounter in the wilderness on a moonlit night. In the end, they are all tearless, but they have changed their cold faces like silver needles and pierced themselves like the entrance of flames. It is to convince the living that people and ghosts are going the same way. The government and the sun are two sides of a career. We can still continue to quarrel with each other. Look at fly with me, my father in the river, even though he has recovered from madness, he still holds the lamp high above his head step by step.
Ode to the wilderness
This day is precisely the vernal equinox. When I went back to my hometown to move my dead relatives’ graves, it was just after noon, but the daylight was dark. After that, I died. My village walked towards the hill where my relatives were buried. Although it was the vernal equinox, the season was really spring, but it was far from coming. The west wind roared across the wilderness, and a few clumps of hay were rolled up. The objects in front of me were covered with a thin layer of frost, and they looked like dying teenagers.
Passing through a mowed paddy field, I saw a dog in the distance. I was a wild dog, but I didn’t know that I came near it. It ran away and then came back, but it circled around a pile of grave soil around it. I occasionally looked at it and it ended cautiously. When I came to it exactly, it whined in a low voice, as if it were in misfortune, and I might be the one who could understand it.
This is also the case. When I saw the name of the tombstone clearly, I knew that the owner of the dog buried in the grave was dead. No one ever told me about his death. I believe that no one will ever tell others about his death. At least there is a tombstone planted in his grave, but none of the inscriptions on the corner of the tombstone look like a broken mound. Obviously, everyone saw him when he died, but no one listened to him. He has always been among us, and he has always been absent from us. I’m afraid I can engrave the name of the dog on his tombstone. It’s not surprising that the world is dangerous and life and death are strict. Everyone lives in his own situation. What’s worse, there are seven or nine swords lurking in everyone’s situation, and they are always dealing with it.
It also happened that the person who helped me move the grave was too late to come to the vast wilderness, leaving only one person and one dog. However, the dog had to accompany him, but he was already dead. He begged the underground branches to drill into the ground, and looked intently at the fact that a small section of willow trees and smaller branches were growing all over the grave, and several buds were stirring. The dog leaned over from time to time to stick out its tongue to lick it, but every time its tongue approached, it came back timidly, as if it were afraid to disturb them.
The sight in front of me excites me in an instant. It’s hard to say that although I’ve been away from home for many years, people have met many times in my grave. Maybe I should take out my pen and paper and find a place that is slightly sheltered from the wind. He should write a few words and burn them in front of his grave as an unknown eulogy. Yes, of course, this eulogy is like a dog in front of the grave, like a willow bud in a thorn bush. But there are too many things in this world. Now, we should let those tiny things glow like a blade flame, and we should also say it in an endless stream.