Tenho um Encontro com uma Mulher Fantasma

Matters of ghosts and gods cannot be dismissed out of hand, for until you have truly encountered such things, you will never believe in their existence.

I am a sophomore in high school. During the summer vacation, I went to my grandfather’s village to escape the heat, only to witness things beyond belief.

The place where my grandparents live is called “Rock Bay.” As the name suggests, apart from mountains, there is nothing but stone. The entire village now holds just over twenty people—three under eighteen, including myself; two in their forties; the rest all above sixty.

All the young people of the village have left to earn a living. The elders refuse to leave their homeland, so they remain; my grandparents are among them.

Truth be told, I’ve always been reluctant to visit. First, there’s no one for me to play with—the other two under-eighteens are still in primary school, so we have nothing in common; as for the elders, there’s even less to say. Second, there isn’t even a hint of cell signal here. If I want to make a call, I have to climb to the edge of the cliff beside my grandfather’s house. Yet these aren’t the worst parts—the thing that unsettles me most is the uncanny feeling that lingers in this place.

There is a custom in this village: when someone dies, the body must not be cremated but placed whole in a coffin for burial. “The dead can still feel,” they say. “To burn them is a sin.”

Because of this tradition, earth mounds—graves—dot the landscape. Some are long untended, the ground cracked open; around each grave lingers a p