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墨書 Inktalez
I stared wide-eyed in terror and sat down on the ground. Just then, my mother came over with a basin of cold water, and I hurriedly got up to pick up the basin that had fallen on the floor. When I looked up, my mother was gone.
She had set down the basin, wiped her hands on her clothes, and looked at my father, asking, "Is she really dead?" My father nodded but kept his eyes fixed on the little girl lying on the wooden board.
My aunt nervously asked, "What do we do now?" My uncle glanced at her and replied, "Let's bury her first." My mother shook her head, saying, "We can't bury her; we need to find a shaman to take another look." My father agreed, "Right, we need to see if this girl might come back as a ghost to trouble us."
Their words filled me with fear; I wanted to tell them to stop talking, but they didn't even look at me—only at the girl on the board. It felt as if, in their eyes, that little girl was Little Er Ya, not me.
Suddenly, I felt very cold and hugged my arms tightly, shivering. I noticed that I was becoming light and airy, like a feather that could be blown away by the wind at any moment. I fixed my gaze on the little girl on the board, not wanting to be swept away by the wind. Thankfully, I wasn't blown away.
But my body became much more transparent. I watched everything in horror, feeling helpless. I didn't understand what was happening to me or why I had suddenly changed like this. My parents began to speak softly; their conversation revolved around ghosts and occasionally mentioned my name. But I couldn't comprehend what they were saying.
Gradually, they stopped mentioning my name and focused solely on the little girl on the wooden board. I realized they couldn't see me anymore. They had forgotten that there was still a Little Er Ya.
I squatted on the ground, hugging my knees as I looked at the little girl on the wooden board. I felt so sorry for her, like a dead puppy that would be thrown into the stinky ditch at the edge of Village West. I didn’t want to be a puppy; I didn’t want to leave home. I liked my dad and mom, as well as my sister and Sister. I wanted to go home.
The shaman came in the afternoon, jumping around in the yard with a Peach Wood Sword, sticking up many talismans, hanging numerous bells, and cutting several peach wood branches. I was so scared that I fled in a panic. The shaman was busy until evening before leaving.
I stayed outside for a long time and only dared to cautiously return home when it was almost dark. As soon as I stepped through the door, a burst of flames suddenly lunged at me. I was thrown back and crashed into another person. I fell hard, hitting my chin painfully.
Holding my chin, I grimaced and looked up, only to meet a curious face. It was a Little Girl wearing a Red Cotton Jacket with a red flower tied in her hair. She smiled at me and asked, “Do you want to enter someone else's house?”
I shook my head, “This isn’t someone else’s house; this is my home.”
She looked at me in confusion and then pointed to the white cloth strips hanging in the yard, “But you’re already dead; they think you’re an evil spirit. Do you still want to go in?”
I nodded, “I want to go home.”
She frowned, her small face full of conflict, “But… your family is performing a ritual for you; you can’t go in.”
“What do I need to do to get inside?”
She tilted her head and thought for a moment before her eyes lit up, “Do you hate them? If you hate them, you can imagine yourself getting revenge on them; that way, you can go in.”
I looked at her in confusion, “Why would I hate them? I just want to go home.”
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