A Guest in a Ghost House

Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Legend
“Wu, are you going out?”

An old neighbor walked towards me with a handful of green vegetables.

I forced a smile.

It occurred to me to ask her to take a look at the boy’s picture before I left.

I quickly turned around and held up the picture in front of her, “Aunty, do you know this boy?”

My neighbor glanced at the picture. She looked at me with suspicious eyes and said, “The picture is blank. Is this a prank?”

I took a deep breath that refused to come back out and apologized to her, I felt a darkness covering my heart like a widows veil at funeral: My family is so unlucky. Why are these things happening to me?

I didn’t want to give up just yet, so I asked a few more people.

Some were acquaintances, some were strangers, but nevertheless, the photos were completely blank to them.

With every confused stare I got from people that must have thought I was mad, I felt a coldness growing in my heart. It wasn’t easy for me to face the facts. I still wondered, why could my mother and Xue’er see it?

I’d rather endure all this horror on my own than get them involved.

I came back home with a forced smile after I hung out in the streets for a long while. We ate a fancy dinner, though it felt like I was chewing wax. I said good bye to my mom and Xue’er with mixed feelings.

There was nothing I could do but send them away since Xue’er had to go to school on Monday and my home was far away from her school.

I put the envelope I had hidden in my pocket into the box with the other envelopes. I had to figure everything out, even if it led me to my death. Now that my family had the risk of getting involved, I had to make sure they would never get hurt. Ever.

I tried to detach myself from the fear and confusion that clouded my mind. I knew I had to properly consider everything that had happened to me so far and come to a serious conclusion about what was going on.

I sat down and attempted to recall every last detail. Let’s see, I received a letter once every three days. There were three pictures every time. The first one was always normal. The second one was always strange, and judging by the angles of the shots, the pictures could not have been taken by the murderer.

Who took the pictures? What did the third one represent? A ghost?

Every time I received the pictures, the person in them was already dead. Therefore, there was nothing I could do to save that person. Did they just want to frighten me or did they think I enjoyed getting these pictures?

I wasn’t getting anywhere and I knew it. I classified all the pictures on my bed according to when I received them and their type, looking at the third category of picture, which were the strangest and most terrifying ones.

If the first one was the target and the second one was their death, then the third one had to represent their ghost. I admit that I was worried about whether or not ghosts existed. I have always been doubtful.

I had never looked at the pictures in detail, because I was so scared of them. Now as I scrutinized them, I realized that I was familiar with many of the locations where they were taken. After all, I lived in the same city.

Most importantly, there was a vague outline of a house in the background of every picture. It looked like two photos were printed on top of each other.

I fought back my horror. I made out the vague outline of a white, European-style house with Chinese influences. The house was not tall, and only had three floors.