After Grandma died, I helped change my clothes.
Because of my lift, Grandma’s head was leaning back, her mouth was open, and a stinky face came.
I inhaled into the air and I felt my throat was tight and couldn’t cough.
Later, I knew I had sucked into Grandma’s gas.
It means the last breath before life, the inhaler, the killer.
One.
After 85, Grandma fell ill and stayed in bed for days without getting better.
One day, Grandma suddenly got out of bed, cooking and doing housework, and had a good time.
As the family knows, this is a return to the light, all with red eyes working with the elderly.
Grandma said she didn’t want to die in town, so we sent her back to the old house in the country — the old house where Grandpa walked.
The last wish can only be fulfilled.
I was with Mom and Dad and I drove Grandma back to the village.
Just after entering the old house, the villagers came and Grandma was happy to meet her old friend, and she kept on pulling.
Later, Grandma cried out, took off her shoes and said nothing.
I sat next to my grandmother, and she looked at me, and then the look was fixed, and I didn’t fall down, and I swallowed it.
Dad bought a life jacket in advance. I lifted up Grandma’s upper body and wanted to help with the change.
And when I lifted him up, my face and my grandmother were close, and suddenly I heard a noise, as if she had burped.
I turned my head, and because of my lift, my grandmother’s head was leaning back, her mouth was open, and a stinky stench came.
I inhaled it, and I felt my throat was tight, like I swallowed a few fish pricks and couldn’t cough out.
Later, I knew I had sucked into Grandma’s gas.
It means the last breath before life, if it’s inhaled by the living, it’s the worst.
Two.
At that time, an old man came in with his arms crossed and put my dad next to him.
“Don’t fuck around without knowing!” I’m sorry.
Turning back, the old man saw me still on the tweezer, holding my kimono in his hand and shaking his eyebrows.
“Get down! I’m sorry.
I was pushed over. I was having a seizure. Dad stopped it.
My dad says the old man is Grandma’s brother, and I have to call him uncle.
He soon changed his clothes, and told him to go get a coffin and other applications.
The casket was brought in, the fragrance was set, and after a group of people had been busy, Grandma lay in the casket, waiting only three days for a stop to be sent for cremation.
In the evening, the villagers left and closed their doors, leaving their families in the yard, and Dad finally cried.
I told Mom and Dad to go home and take their first shift.
There was a shed in the courtyard, which was temporarily transformed into a temple, and a Maza, a few steps away from the coffin, where I sat and looked at the lantern.
I fell asleep without knowing that the night had passed, and the light was shaking in rhythms, and I was tired.
Knock, knock.
I heard banging on the board.
I don’t know what’s moving in the coffin, but it’s just a little slit, and it comes out of it with something darker than black smoke.
I don’t know what I’m afraid of in my dream, just looking at that pack of things as if there was life, creeping at me.
I didn’t hide, I waited for the pack to get close, it came into my leg, and in a moment, it was so painful…
It bit on my lap!
I fell on the ground thinking I had a nightmare, but the pain of my calves still exists.
I’m wearing jeans with no trace of their surface, and while I’m wondering, I’m swirling the rest of my light — it’s the black stuff! It jumped out of the yard with a short wall!
Mom and Dad came and I realized I was screaming.
I said what just happened, they didn’t believe me, they just said I was too tired to let me sleep in the house, and they kept acting.
The pain of the loss of loved ones has taken over all their bodies and minds, leaving no room for other stories.
It was covered with old beddings, and I lay down in my clothes and felt my calves still stinging.
In my mind, the black thing never goes away, and it comes out of Grandma’s coffin, and goes out where it stands, and I can’t figure it out.
He stayed up all night, and when the village rooster beat, his uncle came.
Mom and Dad let Uncle into the house, and I couldn’t lie down again, and I turned down, and I sat on the floor.
That’s when I found out that the left leg bit by that black thing was too weak.
Uncle asked me what happened last night, but I didn’t wait for my parents to rebut it.
“Turn your pants up, I see. I’m sorry.
I did what I had to do, and when I lifted my pants and legs, the four people in the house were stupid.
On my leg’s skin, there are two deep red half-rounds with clear teeth marks, which are human teeth marks.
Dad’s scared, he lit his finger and looked at the number of teeth marks.
Once checked, it appeared that the father ‘ s eyes were bleeding, repeatedly confirming them, and then pounced and kneeled.
“The sixth, the eighth and the ninth of the upper and lower teeth were put on later … This is my mother’s, your grandmother’s toothmark! I’m sorry.
Mom thought of something, pulled out the phone, and she said, “I took it when the old lady was wearing a tooth, and I made a film, and my phone was still there. I’m sorry.
Looking for the exit cavity X-rays, the length of the teeth, the gaps, all match the teeth marks on my calves.
It cannot be explained that an old man who is already dead will be able to gust his body in the night and leave a tooth mark on my leg, as he did to his enemies.
His uncle whispered and said, “Is the old lady the end of good?” I’m sorry.
3
According to Dad, the death of an old woman from multi-organ failure is a common old age disease, and family harmony is not troubling.
The neighbours present yesterday were able to testify before the old lady passed away, even laughing.
“Why did she come back?” he said. I’m sorry.
I heard the word “back” and my family was so cold.
Is it true that what I saw last night…
His uncle asked: “Is there anything other than the shadow that came out of the coffin?” I’m sorry.
“Anything else? Unless I count my voice, “I’ve tried so hard to swallow my mouth, “It hurts like someone stings my throat with a needle. I’m sorry.
Since when? I’m sorry.
“Just yesterday, when Grandma died, I changed her clothes and heard Grandma burping…”
His eyebrow was raised and his voice changed. I’m sorry.
“There is a smell. I’m sorry.
I’ve just finished. My uncle took a good shot of his thigh. I’m sorry.
People who work in the city are often unaware of the claim that they are old and sick, and uncles, who are famous in the village, are very familiar with such matters.
So, my uncle sat on the table and said three words, saying to us,
In traditional terms, the last breath before life is caught in the throat, called “foul.”
The process is called disaster.
Many people shared their experiences on the Internet, saying that they had accidentally hit and walked into the morgue, and they heard “the dead groaning” — it was a coincidence that the teller had suffered.
Folklore says it is a crucial step in the process of guiding the souls of the dead to leave the world and to return to their turn.
It’s better to stay away from the living.
As a result, the term “dead dead, dead and alive” has been circulated.
How exactly can I avoid it?
The uncle said that the time when a dead person died seemed random and followed the rules, as long as he knew how to do so, could well be inferred from the fate of the dead person in general terms.
Then, white flags were put on the door and white paper lanterns were put on the Mayow to allow neighbours and passers-bys to see and hide.
At a time before the disaster, there was no room for human beings in the house, and there was one person who could leave the house in the opposite direction. How far could it go, how far could it not stop, let alone turn back.
Before leaving the house, do not forget the bedrooms where the deceased lives on a permanent basis, each with a pair of candles, and if the family is bold enough to sift some grass ashes and lay them on the floor of the bedroom.
When it’s over, and the family comes back, they’ll see that the ash shows similar traces of drag, slip, etc. – It’s the three souls of the dead, the footprints they leave in the house.
I couldn’t stand to interrupt him if he didn’t hurt his leg and his throat.
Uncle, what should I do with this? I’m sorry.
His uncle lamented: “A man is dead and his body cannot move. The change of life clothes and coffins are the corresponding ways to ensure that the living do not hit the air. You don’t understand. You have to mess with your grandmother. As I said earlier, it’s the spirit that guides it, and now it’s on you, and your grandmother’s spirit is coming on you. I’m sorry.
My mother took a breath of cool air: “At the top?” “What are the consequences?”
“The dead man is in the body of a living man. Either you get sick, you die in a few days, or you’re crazy, trying to kill yourself! I’m sorry.
His uncle pointed to the wounds on my leg: “It was the first day of the suspension, not too loud, but with a mark on his body, and it’s not going to stop until tonight.” I’m sorry.
My dad was so depressed, my mom was crying and she asked me if he could crack it.
“There is a way, it’s just… “and Uncle looks at me like he’s looking at the dead. “I’m afraid to scare your guts. I’m sorry.
4
Uncle said it’s only tonight that I can save Grandma from trouble.
Stay through tonight, the world is peaceful.
I can’t get through this. My whole family is in trouble.
Then uncle listed a few things and told my parents to do them.
After my father listened, he said nothing and dragged my mother into the yard alone.
I’m sitting in the house and I can only hear a few things, and my father doesn’t seem to believe in Uncle’s plans, and he thinks he can’t put hope on a feudal superstition.
All my mother said was, “Who can explain the tooth marks on the child’s leg? I’m sorry.
Two minutes later, the car was launched and my father, on instructions from his uncle, arrived in the nearby town and bought another life jacket.
This second suit, it’s for me.
And Mom’s job is to make up for me.
In the new years in the countryside, the villagers have their own tradition of writing the Spring Union.
My mother borrowed a coyote from her neighbour and picked up a few grains of rice, smashed it, put water on it, and snuffed it with a coyote.
In the kitchen behind the old house, there was a big black pot, and a couple of people were working together to raise the black pot and to rub the bottom ash with a wet wolf.
Mom raised the pen and drew a line on my face.
The uncle said, in particular, that the angles and cheeks of the eyes, in the shape of the wrinkles of the elderly, were as exaggerated as possible.
Of course, Uncle has his own mission.
He searched the dry grasswood, set it on fire by the stove, took it and gathered the ashes of the ground, and fell into it to sift.
The willows have small cracks, the ashes are thin, and they breathe.
Since it was noon since the start of the operation, when the above-mentioned preparations were completed, the sky was about to be effaced.
It’s getting dark in the countryside, and it’s almost time for me to put a few pillow towels in my clothes and put on my life jacket outside.
With these layers of clothes and wrinkles on my face, I became a very old man with a body.
I thought it was new, and then I heard what Uncle said.
“Tonight, something should come in. I’m sorry.
And his uncle smoked a smoke, and said, “There can be no second living person except you, so when he comes in, you have to deal with it yourself.” Just stay in there, no matter what happens, don’t go down there. I’m sorry.
Mom’s eyes are red, and she’s staying with me until his uncle says so — tonight’s a dangerous night to listen to him.
“That thing is big or small? What’s it look like? How do you know if it’s in or out? I asked.
“It looks like…”
He said, “Don’t worry, you’ll realize it if it comes in.” Besides, that thing can talk. If it asks you who you are, you’re Li. Beyond that, whatever it asks, you say only this: “I am Lee Jadecre.” I’m sorry.
Lee, it’s my grandmother’s name.
As I digested the information, his uncle pulled out a few nails with long fingers and nailed them in a row on the stairside.
And until he asked, he said to himself, “This is a coffin, a good material, which was prepared for me.” I’m sorry.
“What good is that? I’m sorry.
And his uncle looked me in the shadows and said, “Beware of it.” I’m sorry.
5
My uncle told my parents to go out and step back and lay grass and ashes on the floor.
When the uncle got back to the door, the ground was covered with ashes, and he looked up at me and said nothing and turned away.
Unlike light pollution in the city, the night in the village is more pure black.
There were no street lights in the village and they watched the windows go dark, and the villagers went home, setting fire and cooking for two hours.
The television is not going to be too late, and very soon, every household has a light out, and the only weak source of light outside the window has faded.
The ears have also become clean, with the exception of sporadic barking of dogs, which is so quiet around.
The stone bells on the wall, with the hidden moon light, can be seen at 10 p.m.
I can’t carry my cell phone, I can’t just sit on my back like I used to.
In order to prevent slumber, I pre-positioned a tea tank with a strong tea in it.
A few sips of tea, an acceleration of heart rate, a mind of mind, but the abdominal strangulation.
Oh, shit. I forgot to ask Uncle, he won’t let me down.
It’s easy to sneak out, and if your hands and feet go wrong, it won’t take long.
But I got bit on my right leg, and that toothmark looks like some kind of seal.
When I was sad, it was suddenly ringing.
It’s a wall brick. Someone’s coming over the wall.
Rural flats are generally covered by windows and walls in the north.
The old house was in a northerly pattern, and I leaned back against the wall, five metres ahead, to the window in the yard.
The yard is small, and if someone goes over the wall and walks inside, I can see each other through the window.
But there’s no one in the courtyard under the moonlight.
I’m in a position where there’s a blind corner and the only thing I can’t see is the West Wall.
And the western wall, the black thing that went out of the coffin yesterday, jumped off the wall after the attack.
It’s back, it’s back for me.
I took two paper packs and shoved them into my nostrils, which my uncle told me not to let it smell alive.
My heart is beating, my hands are shaking, I’ve been poking up paper for half a day, so nervous I can’t find my nose.
After I switched to breathe with my mouth, the main door of the flat squeaked, and immediately followed by the sound of rhythm in the hallway outside the bedroom.
Pop, pop.
It’s as if someone walks barefoot, just more slowly, unlike the living.
The sound was far and near, and that thing was only one wall from me, and the closest I heard, in addition to the footsteps, the claws scratching the walls.
I’m so hairy, my skin is like electricity. Every hole is sore.
What the hell is that? Human feet and claws?
The corridor leads to the rear cook, who quickly turns back and apparently has nothing to look for.
The footsteps stopped outside the bedroom door.
I’m holding on to my crotch, my heart rate is terrible at the moment, and I’m with a strong ear, and I realize that I can’t breathe, but I can’t.
Squeeze.
The door-to-door page caused noise that was sour and opened a door stitch, which was heavily black.
It’s still the black piece, but it’s getting bigger and taller, and it’s like a liquid, crawling in through a narrow door and finally showing the face floating above the black piece.
Wrinkled piles, all hair white, a pair of round eyes bright, twirling around, and then fast locked on me.
It opens its mouth like it’s smiling, it’s red and it’s broken.
“Who are you?”
It’s Grandma’s voice.
When I first saw that face, I felt like I knew each other, but I didn’t want to believe it until it spoke.
“Who are you?”
It came close, and the face became clearer, but unlike Grandma, there was a hole in the face left by the maggots.
I finally understood why uncle changed his tongue when he said “that thing looks like…”
It sounds like Grandma, but it’s sharper, it’s more twisted, it’s like every word is scratching my eardrum.
I can’t say anything. Even if my uncle told me how to answer, I can’t.
“Who are you?”
It has reached the edge, and I and that white face is less than two metres away.
I tried to open my mouth, but I couldn’t make a sound.
Without a response, it seems to have become happier, more exaggerating, with the mouth squeezing into the ears and almost split in two.
The black attack hit the strip, and it went up and saw nothing about the coffins left behind.
All of a sudden, as soon as the black group had been exposed to the nails, it had energized itself back and then tried several times, and the nails kept it under the sarcasm.
Its smile disappears, its mouth bends down, its face weeps and the look of a living man that can never be done is worse than what just happened.
He looked down at the coffin as if he knew it was an insurmountable barrier.
Thanks to Uncle, I’m sure I’ll be here tonight.
It never left me while I was grateful.
Then two claws were found in the black, full of hair and cold light, larger than wolf claws and sharper than eagle claws.
Pow, pow.
He’s using his claws to go around the flatwood.
The wood bars are long and old, and they are already decaying, and the movement of the crumbs turns and drills into my heart.
On a few occasions, however, flatwood bars could not bear its claws and fell on the ground with a sound, a piece of wood and nails nailed to it.
A platinum passage was then cleared out.
No more obstacles, that old white hairy woman’s face, with her mouth full of blood, came to me.
Six.
Nighttime experiences are over in my memory.
I passed out, my heart stopped beating, and my abdominal drums disappeared.
Until the discomfort of the lower half and the stench of the snout awakened me.
The morning sun came in, and I found myself lying on the tumbler, in the jeans.
His uncle was the first to come in and saw the coffin crucified to the ground and shouted “dry”.
It’s a relief to get in front of me and stare into my eyes and make sure I’m still me and there’s nothing else in me.
Mom and Dad were so scared to see me. They asked me about last night.
Listening to the horrors of the night, my uncle even shook his head, and he didn’t think that it was so evil that he would touch the nails.
I said I didn’t feel anything different than being scared. Did that thing leave me alone?
He said, “If you hadn’t been scared and pissed, you’d be dead. I’m sorry.
According to my uncle, the so-called ghost has a fatal weakness: fear of pornography.
Any water source that passes through the digestive flow of the human body can be described as “obscenity” and, if contaminated, the strange path is lost and the ghost is destroyed.
Last night, I passed out, and the abdomen of the drums were out of control, and the food I ate earlier, along with a big cup of tea I drank, “sprung out.”
The one who knows the power of the obscenity, who does not dare to come near, and who does not go away, wanders around, and leaves before dawn.
The uncle pointed to the ground, and the marks on the ash surface were very clear, and there was a mark in addition to the footprints of the uncle and my parents.
It seems to be a small pair of feet left behind, but only on the front of the soles, with the nails stretching out of proportion and twirling a few dusts before each.
“Yes,” the uncle said, “That thing is not a living thing, it has no roots under it, so we can only see the front of the soles. I’m sorry.
And when I saw my feet, and I thought of my death, the blackness, and the face of the face, wandered before me, and became afraid.
My mother asked what to do next, and the uncle said it would take another night, three days to stop, burn the body and burn the coffin.
To keep my life alive, my uncle was ready to find more things to avoid evil, but he wasn’t finished, and my dad couldn’t control his emotions anymore.
Despite all the shit I had on me, my father carried me to the yard.
My uncle wanted to stop him, and my father yelled, “This is my child, and I am responsible for his life. You want to fuck with your own fucking feudal bullshit! I’m sorry.
The car was parked in the yard, Dad pushed the uncle, put me in the back seat, returned to the driver’s seat and put the brakes on…
Strangely, no matter how much my dad tried, the car couldn’t burn and the engine couldn’t start.
“The child has been targeted and he will not be able to get out of this yard until it’s resolved.” I’m sorry.
Dad couldn’t hear, the car couldn’t start, so he had to use his back and leave the village alive.
Pull the door, Dad back on me, walk to the yard door, then pounce and kneel.
I weigh less than 150 pounds, and my dad, even though he’s a middle-aged man, works out a lot, and even if he’s tired, he can’t keep his back completely.
Dad was sweating in his face, he was breathing and asked his mother to help, but he still couldn’t stand up.
If you don’t move your back, put me down, and you two pull it together, but you still don’t move.
Several neighbours saw it, and they came to help, and finally they had eight people, pulling it forward, pushing it back, and everyone’s on the forehead, and I was sitting there.
As a client, it was hard for me to express the mood.
With so many people working together, even a car has been taken away, and I seem to have grown dozens of times more than I can explain in common sense.
Neighbors kept their hands shut and hid from the distance.
I’ve been through this myself, and my parents are obviously scared, and I’m unconsciously looking at my uncle.
His face is calm, and my father’s obnoxious remarks are not in his heart, and he has seen much more as an practitioner of traditional folklore.
“Hold on one more night, as long as you listen to me, my old sister will be happy and your child will be safe. I’m sorry.
“and expect to exorcise evil with shit? Dad stood by the bottom line, and he said, “No, no, no, no, no. We have to stay together. I’m sorry.
“Really?”
“Really. I’m sorry.
He asked: “What weight does it weigh on you? I’m sorry.
“Of course it’s a child. I’m sorry.
He also asked, “If your mother were to become a ghost, you would choose this way? I’m sorry.
Dad raised his voice: “If the dead matter, if they threaten the living, any dead must stand aside.” Don’t say I didn’t recognize that thing as my mother, even if it was. I’m sorry.
Once he heard it, he said:
“All right, your mother, your child, you’re in charge. And if only the living, I have a way that is strong enough. I’m sorry.
7
When I returned to the house, my weight was back to normal, and my father was the only one who easily carried me to the head.
Scratch the ash of the grass, throw away the rags, remove the nails and wipe the plaster.
I put on a spare pair of pants, and I went back to sleep with my parents.
When I opened my eyes again, the old house was overcrowded.
Uncle’s methods are simple and harsh, and as long as they’re good enough and positive enough, the thing will never come near.
After tonight, that thing won’t be able to haunt me any longer. It’ll be a ghost that wanders the wilderness.
I don’t want to think about it.
His uncle called an old man who played mahjong, his nephew, and other eager villagers, with a total of 37 people.
There are as many as 15 of them.
All human beings are those whose parents are alive, their husband and wife are harmonious, their brothers and sisters are all sons and daughters.
It is clear to all that we must use the living spirit to exorcise evil tonight, but we can’t sit still, otherwise we can’t look at each other, we can’t do anything, and we can’t do anything.
All the people were groaning in their hearts, and that was death and death.
As a result, two tables of cards were set up in each of the bedrooms, each with several loud-speakers.
It’s a little wood table, full of wine, a bunch of people sitting around, scrambling and scrambling.
They’re all people living in a village, who are close to each other, and they talk so hot; they’re born in front of each other, they find a common subject, they talk so much; they’re separated, they listen to a few words, they touch two glasses of white wine, they laugh and they dry up.
The kitchen in the back was also uncool, and the black pot was re-fired, and all those who had a little bit of skill gathered together, had a spoon, had a hand, had a voice, and could not get involved.
The courtyard was much more popular, and the uncle had no idea where to find a group of children, all of whom were born during the mornings of the sun, each of whom issued fireworks and fireworks, and sought the consent of his parents, who could spend the night at random.
“Abidden to stay the night” was a great grace to naughty children, a group of children who, if they hadn’t stopped in time, had almost gone to the house to expose them.
I sat inside, surrounded by dozens of people in the middle, feeling safe and reminiscent of last night’s paradise hell.
The incident occurred at 2 p.m.
The people at the card table, they’ve changed a few times, and they’re trapped.
The post-cooking was already in a cease-fire, people were crowded in their bedrooms, the temperature was rising and people fell asleep.
The children who wanted to stay up late often had a hard-mouthed mouth, and they stopped playing in the yard and said hello to their uncle and went home to sleep.
I thought it was a peaceful night, but when I saw my uncle’s face, I knew it wasn’t over.
At first, an old man with a strong voice in the countryside smoked his nose and asked him, “Do you smell anything?” Why do I feel like something’s gone? I’m sorry.
People around me smelled their noses, they said they smelled them, they said no.
While searching under four, there was a fire in front of the window and it was soaring in the night.
And then, the smoke came in the door.
Fire!
Like the same order, there was fire out of the window, grass on the roof, and something else, and a fireball was burned out of the window.
The pot was blown up in the house and people ran out of town screaming.
Dad’s calling my name. I can’t get a leg. I can only climb a little.
As I reached out to my father, I saw a scene of sweat and hair.
In the smoke, my dad bends, and there’s a man on his back, dressed like me.
As soon as Dad ran out of the door, I was sure the man looked back at me.
That’s me.
He’s laughing as if the plot worked.
The villagers went mad and ran out of the yard door until they heard a copper round in their ears.
It was Uncle who turned on copper and cried out, “Run your asses and look back!” I’m sorry.
The people turned around, and there was a fire in the sky, and the old house was intact, still standing still in the night.
Just, lights in the house, out.
People wake up in their dreams, they’re hallucinating, they’re in their collectives.
The last one that ran out was my dad.
When he saw my father, he looked in his eyes and said, “Why did you come out on your own? I’m sorry.
“I’m carrying it…”
Dad said something. Turn around and show him.
Those present, take a cold breath.
Dad’s behind a paper man.
One more copper turn, followed by the mother of the people, the father of the man with the paper, and finally woke up.
I couldn’t help but be afraid, and my parents ran into the house, and I couldn’t see half of them.
8
Mom and Dad and the villagers were fascinated and I listened to them later.
And when I heard the news of the fire, all I knew was that everyone had disappeared at the door, and I was alone in the house.
Lights went out without warning and cold darkness returned to power.
Then Grandma showed up.
Without the black package, two days after the stop, “grandmother” had become a human being.
It’s just that she’s in front of the gills, wearing a life jacket, with maggots all over her face and a big bloodbath smile that doesn’t look like a living person.
I don’t have a life jacket, I don’t have wrinkles on my face, I don’t have a coffin, and Grandma doesn’t have to ask me who you are anymore.
Want to scream, want to cry for help.
They’re not far away, they’re not far.
It just came out of my head, and Grandma choked me.
More than hands, my grandmother’s fingernails were sharp, and I felt blood flowing through my neck, and my hands were hard and hard, and I was in pain.
From the New Year’s atmosphere to the ghost confrontation, only a few minutes later.
The brain can’t absorb such a radical shift, and my consciousness is broken again.
Unfortunately, shit piss can’t save me again.
Grandma grabbed me by the neck, jumped out of the door, turned over the west wall…
I just feel like I’m floating around in my feet and I don’t know where I am.
The old house is the first in the village to climb through the wall, the rear hill.
There is no resources, no place to grow, no value in the rear mountains, which are in fact deserted by no one.
Grandma put me in the air and took me to the desert.
I’ve been in a state of awakening, and there is no discomfort in my neck, but a feeling of loss of will after being hung naked.
After some time, Grandma stopped, she let go, I fell on the floor, and I looked up, and we were on the top of the mountain.
Muscles and joints don’t listen, and I’m like the same conscious body, flipped over by my grandmother, facing the sky.
Grandma ripped off my clothes, cut my belly with her fingernails, smoother than a surgical knife.
I can see my own internal organs, and I’m still shaking in a weak way, and Grandma’s head down and takes my intestines, liver and kidney seriously…
I can’t feel pain, but it’s disgusting to see myself cut open.
I moved away and looked at the world that was going back and forth.
Close to the head, there are two grave bags, with two rough tombstones in front of them, a common method of burial in villages of the last century.
As it was a upside-down image, I went to great lengths to identify the text of the left tombstone.
It’s inscribed on my grandfather’s name.
And look down, the ugly-faced grandmother, is putting my intestines on the side of his feet, turning his head and continuing to do something to the other organs.
She looked inside me for her anger.
My grandmother took her own death ritual seriously, and she will be brought to the ground with her own anger, as she wishes. I am only a companion.
It was boring, I looked up again and looked at the gravestone on the right.
It’s easy to identify. My name is inscribed on it.
Why is my grave here? Am I dead?
I don’t understand…
My life, my family, my memories are fake?
The fear of death has numbed me, but this is an attempt to deny the mystery that I have survived, such as a violent electrical current that hits my heart.
At times of pain, fatigue, coldness and re-entry.
And it’s disgusting when it’s so exciting.
The first reaction is vomiting.
I didn’t believe it, but now it’s too real to believe.
The response of the air pipes and esophagus was beyond human control, and I finally got sick.
And with it, a stinking black gas came out of my nose and mouth.
Then there was a heavy dry cough, and I sat up and cried.
When I finally dried my tears and snot, I realized that Grandma had stopped.
The sharp nails are gone, the bloodbaths are gone, and the one standing in front of us is the sweet old lady.
She looked at me with a little guilt on her face and then disappeared like a balloon with a needle.
At dawn, parents and villagers climbed to the top of the hill.
It is hundreds of metres high, and no one knows how I came to the top in such a short time.
After examination, there were no wounds on my stomach, and the teeth marks on my leg became ordinary silt, which then disappeared.
9
The grave with my name is real.
In the face of the inexplicable events of his personal history, his father told me what he had been hiding.
Before me, Mom and Dad had a boy who died at an early age and was buried alone in the wilderness.
Later, when I was born, it was because I, my father, and my grandparents were in a fight, and Grandpa was so sick that he was buried next to his beloved grandson.
As to why the quarrels … I may not have revealed that I am a girl.
After my birth, my grandfather forced my father to have another child.
My father was stubborn, he thought the girl was good and the mother’s body was unfit to regenerate.
To fight Grandpa, Dad even gave me the same name as the boy, the brother I never met.
Grandma’s got a good mind. After a few years, she dropped it, moved in with us, gave me this granddaughter, all the love she could give.
But the pain of losing an old companion is indelible.
According to his uncle, it was Grandma who was deeply attached to her husband ‘ s illness as a result of the birth of a boy and a girl.
And before she died, she looked at me, and she took off all her disguises and treated me as an “enemy”.
This obsession is compounded by the post-mortem difficulties.
And on the desert hills, when the spirit returns to a moment of clarity, the tombs of her husband and grandson allow her to think of the family after death.
The concern for the daughter-in-law and the love for her granddaughter finally overcome a moment of darkness.
I don’t know.
After driving out of the village, he got back on the highway, and Dad said, “Let me fart in my uncle’s words.”
I ask, how do you explain what happened in the old house?
Dad turned his head and yelled at the car driver and left my problem behind.
Later, I sometimes dream of Grandma, who just smiled at me and said nothing.
I snuck up calling my uncle and asked him if there was anything to say.
Uncle says it’s all right. The dead ones don’t talk in their dreams. Case number: YXA10mbaNB0tRxeNZv8hQQ9
I don’t know.
Keep your eyes on the road.
