Indian Reservation, Texas. On the fifteenth day of the seventh month of the year, the traditional Ghost Festival, also known as the Festival of the Dead, coincided with a full-moon night.
The almanac said: "When the Star of the Greedy Wolf enters the house, the cold energy is at its peak and everything is inauspicious, especially movements of the earth."
In a remote mountain village in a certain mountainous region, there is a community led by the Long family.
According to tradition, at dusk, every household burns two thick bundles of money in front of their door—one bundle for the ancestors and the other for wandering spirits.
After burning the money, each family shuts their doors and windows tightly and goes to bed early. Those who follow ancient native religions, syncretism with Christianity, or something else, pray, hoping to pass the night in peace and avoid any mishap.
In the stillness of the night, it began to rain, pattering on the leaves like a solitary spirit wandering in the darkness. The wind howled, as if lamenting and crying, adding an eerie atmosphere to that unusual night.
On the path at the entrance of the village, a blurry figure appeared and disappeared between the wind and the rain. It left the village, walked straight up the mountain behind it, and entered a cemetery.
This cemetery is the ancestral burial ground of the Long family community, where the deceased of the family and the orphans they had saved along with their relatives over the past centuries rest.
Under the shadow of the night, the graves lined up, some with tombstones, others without, some half-collapsed like small mounds, giving them an unsettling appearance.
The shadowy figure finally arrived at a tomb without a headstone.
A spiritual banner was planted over the grave, fluttering in the wind like the hand of a spirit.
The fresh earth on the grave and the funerary banner still standing indicated that it was a recent burial.
"Second sister-in-law, today marks seven days since your death, and it also coincides with the Ghost Festival. I have come to see you." It was a man's voice, hoarse, and he didn't seem to be older than forty.
After a moment of silence before the grave, the man took a red silk umbrella from his back, opened it, and placed it in front of the grave to shield it from the night rain.
Carefully, he took out three incense sticks, lit them, and inserted them into the soil beneath the umbrella. Without caring about the mud, he knelt and made three bows. Then he stood, took a folding shovel from his back, and began to dig the grave.
The soil of the grave was fresh and soft after being soaked by the rain. In less than twenty minutes, a long trench had been dug. After removing a layer of earth, a coffin plank of bright red—almost as if dripping fresh blood—was revealed.
According to superstition, coffins are usually painted dark red. It is said that those painted bright red are the result of violent deaths and deep resentment.
The darker the red, the stronger its effect at warding off evil.
In addition, thirty-three thick golden threads were wrapped around the coffin, intertwining like a net, binding it tightly as if they feared the person inside might emerge.
The man bowed deeply before the coffin, saying, "Second sister-in-law, Monica, I have come to help you."
He took out a dagger and cut the golden threads one by one, then used a shovel to pry open the seven seven-inch nails sealing the coffin.
Taking a deep breath, he lifted the coffin lid…
The corpse of a woman, dressed in white funerary clothing, lay upright at the bottom of the coffin.
In the faint incense light, the female corpse looked lifeless, with clouded and bulging eyes; her expression was fierce and terrifying, emanating a chilling aura.
It was the aura of death.
The man gasped. Although he was somewhat prepared, the sight still made his legs tremble. He quickly knelt, bowed three more times before the woman's corpse, and said in a trembling voice:
"Second sister-in-law, you died in childbirth, taking two lives with you. Those people in the village kept talking about ancestral rules, caring nothing for human decency, and they forcibly separated you from your child, burying you in different places. Tonight your soul returns, and I, Eric, risked my life to dig up your poor child and return him to you, second sister-in-law…"
As he spoke, he took a cloth bag from his chest, opened it, and revealed the corpse of a baby.
Eric placed the body on top of the woman's corpse, bowed, stepped back, and knelt on the ground, waiting anxiously.
Suddenly, the wail of a woman echoed among the wind and rain.
The female corpse abruptly sat up inside the coffin, tightening her arms and gripping the baby's back with her ten dry fingers. Looking at Eric, she formed an extremely unsettling smile.
Eric knelt and bowed again, saying, "Second sister-in-law, I have fulfilled your wish. Afterwards, I will also help you close your coffin and fill your grave so no one will know our secret. Please remember my effort and grant my wish as well!"
After speaking, he plucked the three incense sticks from the ground, took three Almond leaves, spread them out, and kneaded them into the shape of a small bowl while chanting rapidly in a native language.
The female corpse stretched her neck forward, motionless, and next to Eric, it looked as if a liquid dripped from the flames onto the Almond leaves.
Ten minutes later, the woman's brow gradually furrowed, revealing a terrifying expression.
Eric quickly removed the incense, folded the Almond leaves several times into a ball, placed it carefully inside the coffin, and watched as the woman's corpse slowly reclined, holding the baby in her arms with a satisfied expression on her face.
He also let out a sigh of relief. "Second sister-in-law, you have given birth. In forty-nine days, you will undoubtedly become a demon, thirsty for revenge over past grievances. I will now close your coffin. Rest in peace…"
Ten minutes later, Eric looked at the grave he had reburied, which showed no visible flaws. Then he bowed and hurried down the mountain.
…
A month later, at the house of Felix Long, the patriarch of the Long family and the leader of the community.
In the stifling August heat, when everyone else kept their doors open for ventilation and used electric fans, the back room of Felix's house remained tightly closed, with three charcoal stoves burning inside.
On the bed, a child of five or six, wrapped in a thick quilt, continued trembling from the cold, his lips purple, constantly complaining of the cold.
After staying in the room for a while, Felix was drenched in sweat. He sighed and walked out, wiping the sweat and tears from his face.
"Father, my son…" A young woman in her twenties stepped forward, her eyes swollen from crying, looking at Felix. She was his daughter-in-law, the mother of the child in the room, and her name was Samantha.
"We'll talk about it when your brother returns…"
Felix shook his head helplessly. After decades practicing as a traditional doctor, he did not know how to treat his grandson's illness either.
During the past month, he had taken him to hospitals all over the county and the city, and even to a major hospital in the state, but they still couldn't find anything wrong with him.
Felix began to suspect that his grandson was not sick, but that he had attracted some malignant spirit, yet even that wasn't working.
So, that very morning, he had sent his son to the city to look for a shaman.
Just then, his son Alex returned, followed by an old man dressed in black attire who turned out to be a priest.
"And this is…?"
"I brought him by the shaman's recommendation. He said that before acting, he must first come check what level the problem is. He even detected an evil aura in me." Alex said, feeling a bit anxious about his son's condition.
"Thank you for the trouble," Felix said, bowing respectfully while examining the newcomer from head to toe.
The man appeared to be around sixty. He was very thin, with a sharp mouth, monkey-like cheeks, drooping eyebrows, and triangular eyes. His abnormal clothing in this heat was strange—very unusual for Texas.
The moment he entered the room, his eyes scanned the surroundings with a shifty, cunning gaze. He completely lacked the otherworldly grace that usually characterized such people.
Felix frowned slightly. There were too many frauds in the world lately, and even priests and Taoist monks could be impostors.
No matter how much he looked at the old man, he didn't seem to have any real ability. However, as the saying goes, when one is desperate, one tries anything. Since he had invited him, he had to give it a try. So, politely, he invited him into the back room to see his grandson.