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墨書 Inktalez
A jolt ran through me as fragmented images flashed in my mind, and I quickly turned to look back. The sofa was empty. I picked up the coat, its smooth, icy texture sending a shiver through my bloodstream, and I felt a bit more awake.
"This coat belongs to that lady. She covered you with it when she saw you were asleep. Seems a bit intriguing," the attendant said with an ambiguous smile.
I held the coat in silence. Could it have just been a nightmare? Why did this nightmare feel so real? So real that it seemed unreal. Had I encountered some ghost again?
The attendant waited for a long moment before saying, "The shop is about to close."
"Oh!" I nodded apologetically, closing the WORD document. Suddenly, a dialog box popped up on the screen: "Do you want to save changes to the new document?" Habitually, I clicked yes.
The rain was heavier than when I arrived. Under the streetlights, dense strands of rain shimmered with a faint yellow glow, falling thickly onto the road and mingling with the mud, swirling murkily into the drains.
I hurriedly dashed into the rain, but the nightmare from the café kept surfacing from the recesses of my memory, refusing to fade away. Sometimes, people are strange creatures; the more you try not to think about something, the more your thoughts gravitate towards it.
A strange dream, a strange woman, a strange night.
Thinking of that woman, I unconsciously glanced at the white coat in my hands. Terror struck again! My body froze once more. On the white coat, faint words began to appear—blood-red letters! The blood seemed to writhe like worms across the fabric!
I took a deep breath and unfolded the coat as if lifting a headless and limbless torso into the air, swaying eerily.
Five blood-red words stood out clearly: "Midnight Awaits Your Arrival."
I touched the letters with my finger; they felt damp and sticky. Bringing my finger to my nose, a strong metallic scent filled my nostrils. Had I encountered a female ghost? Was this a summoning banner calling me to meet her in hell? Suddenly, my phone lit up!
I have two phones, one of which has a domestic China Mobile number. Every holiday, it sends a colorful message that replaces the original phone screen.
This time, the message was unusually simple. On a dark gray background, amidst a drizzly day, a rugged mountain path appeared. A person stood alone beside an ugly boulder, holding a bamboo basket and gazing into the distance. In the far background, a solitary grave was faintly visible.
In the upper right corner, three vigorous characters in cursive informed me of the day’s holiday: Qingming Festival.
During Qingming, rain falls incessantly, and travelers on the road feel as if their souls are being severed.
It suddenly struck me that today is Qingming Festival in my country.
The Heaven and Earth Ghost Gate opens, and countless spirits roam at night.
According to legend, Vengeful Wandering Spirits cannot be reincarnated; they can only wander in the Underworld. Only on the night of Qingming Festival can they take on human form to present an item containing their Grudge to someone from the Underworld, draining their Yang energy and seizing their soul for reincarnation. Those chosen by Wraiths become lonely souls, aimlessly drifting in the mortal realm, waiting for the next Qingming Festival to find a new substitute.
I was completely at a loss, letting the rain pour down on me relentlessly.
Suddenly, a white figure intruded into my vision, standing alone in the middle of the street. I rubbed my eyes, trying hard to see the white figure clearly, but it vanished again!
A chill ran down my spine as I desperately tried not to think about what had just happened and hurried back home. Once inside, I turned on all the lights and cranked up the television volume to its maximum level that my ears could bear before downing a glass of cold water in one go.
The icy liquid slid down my throat into my esophagus and settled in my stomach, waking me up considerably. I turned on the shower and closed the bathroom door, preparing to let the steam raise the temperature before taking a proper shower.
I had discarded that piece of clothing on my way home. I forced myself to believe it was all an illusion and pretended to be nonchalant as I tossed my wet clothes into the washing machine. Lying on my bed, my fingers incessantly pressed the television remote.
"The NBA Playoffs are about to begin, and each team is sharpening their skills..."
"The countdown for the horror short film National Sea Selection has begun. Who will be the best director from Thailand to claim the flower?"
"An internet sensation, Bare-Chested Sister, has become a household name overnight."
After taking a drag from my cigarette, I felt my mind relax as I stepped into the bathroom. The hot steam blurred my vision, and the dozens of streams of water shooting from the showerhead provided a slight sense of relief, loosening my tense muscles. After finishing my shower and drying my hair in front of the mirror, I convinced myself that everything that had just happened was merely a ridiculous illusion. At that moment, however, the mirror began to change in an unusual way!
The mist clung to the surface of the mirror, and the edges between blur and clarity gradually morphed into a woman's face—half of it! The other half was deeply hidden beneath cascading long hair!
When fear reaches its peak, one can forget what it means to be afraid. In that moment, I found myself in such a state.
I stared intently at that face; although not very clear, I was certain it belonged to the mysterious woman I had encountered at the Coffee Shop!
As the fog swirled, five words appeared on the mirror—"Midnight Awaits Your Arrival."
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