八尺大人（二）

Continued from the previous post. The one calling his name outside was his grandfather's voice. "Come on, open the door, it's fine." The voice was aged and slightly hoarse, exactly like his grandfather during the day. He listened, and almost answered.

But he remembered what K Granny had said: no matter who it sounds like, don't answer. He gritted his teeth and said nothing. After a while, the person outside called again, but the tone had changed, becoming strange, as if a sentence had been forcibly broken apart and pieced together word by word. "Open——the——door——"

The "pop, pop, pop" outside the window sounded again. He noticed that the salt piled in the corner of the wall had started turning black at the edges, seeping inward bit by bit, until the salt at all four corners was black. He didn't know what the black salt meant, only feeling that the Buddha statue behind him seemed to be trembling.

This time, the voice was closer. Like someone pressing their mouth against the window crack to speak, he could hear every inhale and exhale.

His back pressed against the wall, he shrank bit by bit into the corner of the room, until he had nowhere left to retreat.

That night was especially long. Outside, it imitated his grandfather for a while, then his grandmother, then his father, sounding more and more like them, and getting closer and closer. He covered his ears, but it was useless; those voices seemed to drill directly into his head. Once, the newspaper on the window was pushed by something, bulging outward, then slowly shrinking back.

He didn't know how long had passed when a bit of grayish-white appeared outside the window. He glanced at his watch: 7:13 AM. Outside suddenly went quiet, with no sound at all. He sat motionless for a long time before he heard someone knocking on the door.

It was K Granny and his father who came. K Granny entered, looked at the piles of black salt, then looked at him and said, "You're still alive." She said that thing wouldn't leave today, and if he wanted to leave this village, today was the only chance.

His grandfather had already called all the blood relatives in the village—nine people in total, all related to him by blood. Everyone surrounded him in a minivan, with him sitting in the exact center, people on all sides, forbidding him from looking out the window. His grandfather drove a truck in front to lead the way, and his father drove another car behind. K Granny said that as long as blood relatives surrounded him, that thing wouldn't be able to strike.

No one spoke in the car. Someone wrapped prayer beads around their hand, turning them bead by bead. The aunt in the back row kept chanting something softly; he didn't understand, but felt the voice made his heart a little steadier.

The car left the village. At first, nothing happened. He sat among the crowd, listening to his own heartbeat. After driving a while, the person beside him suddenly whispered, "It's following us."

No one looked out the window. He didn't dare look either. He only heard outside the car that sound, "pop, pop, pop," unhurried, sticking to the car, speeding up when the car sped up, slowing down when the car slowed down, as if taking a stroll beside the vehicle.

After a while, there was suddenly a "slap" on the car window glass. He glanced sideways and saw a hand pressed against the window, pale, with long fingers, much larger than a normal person's hand. The hand slowly slid across the glass, as if feeling around, looking for a crack.

No one in the car spoke. Nine people, pressed against him, all kept their heads down. The hand stayed on the window for a long time while the car kept moving forward, passing several intersections. Only when the truck ahead turned and drove off that road did the hand disappear.

Later, they finally reached a safe place. K Granny said that once it set its sights on someone, it wouldn't let go, but as long as they left the area it controlled, they could escape. He never returned to that village again.

It was only later that he learned his father had a friend who had also been targeted by that thing long ago and hadn't escaped. His father had never mentioned it, but told him that day.

Ten years later, his grandmother called to say that the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva statue guarding the road at the village entrance leading to their hometown had been smashed. He asked his grandfather what he thought, but his grandmother fell silent for a while and said his grandfather had passed away two years ago.

The post ended there; he said nothing more afterward, and no one asked.

#Paranormal #连载 #八尺大人