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Water Ghost Stories
墨書 Inktalez
Body Retrieval Specialist
It was not just a simple job of retrieving bodies; it involved certain special practices and taboos. My family had relied on this profession for generations. However, when it came to my brother and me, our grandfather refused to pass on the craft. He claimed it was for our own good. He had always been cautious, yet in his later years, he lost a beloved grandson.
1
My family lived in the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River, where there were numerous reservoirs and lakes, and every year countless people drowned. Summer was particularly notorious for drowning incidents. During this season, my grandfather was always exceptionally busy. Body retrieval was a traditional industry in our hometown, a skill that had supported my brother and me and allowed us both to attend university. For our family, body retrieval was like an iron rice bowl.
But just as my grandfather was preparing to retire and enjoy life, my brother had an accident. By the time I rushed back home, my grandfather had already washed my brother's body and dressed him in a burial suit. Leaning on his cane beside the coffin, he meticulously adjusted the wrinkles on my brother's clothing. My brother lay pale in the coffin, his once bright smile now completely vanished. Seeing this scene made my eyes well up with tears.
“Grandpa, what exactly happened?” I asked. My grandfather didn’t know either. All he could tell me was that ever since he had dropped me off at school a few days ago, my brother had been coming and going at odd hours, disappearing without a trace.
No one knew where my brother had gone or what he had been doing. It wasn't until someone from the neighboring village called, saying there was a body in the reservoir and asking Grandpa to help with the retrieval, that we learned the truth. When Grandpa arrived and pulled the body from the water, he discovered that it was my brother's face floating to the surface.
"Xiao Tian..." Grandpa's voice trembled uncontrollably.
Even now, I still cannot accept the fact that my brother is dead.
---
Late at night, I managed to persuade Grandpa to go rest. After the shock of the day and a long afternoon of work, his eyelids were heavy with fatigue. In the mourning hall, I was left alone to keep vigil.
I repeatedly watched the playback of the surveillance footage from the reservoir where my brother had been retrieved. At the same time, I sifted through all of his belongings, including chat logs from his notebook. But I found nothing unusual. There were no signs of anything amiss.
I lay back in my chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. I couldn't understand why my brother would jump into the river when everything seemed fine. I always felt that his death was not straightforward because I didn't believe he would take his own life. After all, he was such a bright and cheerful person.
Just as I was drifting off into a daze, the flame of the eternal lamp on the altar suddenly flickered. Startled, I shot up from my chair.
If the eternal lamp goes out, my brother's soul will never return.
I hurriedly shielded the flame with my hand, preventing it from flickering in the wind. Once the flame stabilized, I noticed something was off.
There seemed to be a reflection on my brother's portrait.
I slowly turned my head to look behind me.
To my shock, I saw a dark figure standing right behind me.
I was so frightened that I almost stopped breathing. Cold sweat instantly soaked my back.
"Brother..."
My voice trembled as I spoke, "Is it you?"
No one answered.
However, a puddle of water appearing at the doorway caught my attention.
Ripples occasionally formed on the surface of the water, as if someone were standing on it.
But there was clearly nothing there.
I swallowed hard and mustered my courage to walk toward the door.
My brother had always cared for me the most when he was alive.
I wasn't afraid.
As I passed by the puddle, my heart raced to my throat.
I gathered my courage and called out, "Brother, is it you?"
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