Few years ago, I heard – literally – this story that gave me goosebumps at that moment. While I do not know if this story has the same effect on someone reading it, I am sharing it during this time of the year.
You may not quite understand what I mean when I said “this time of the year”. If you remember (look at my Gravatar; I’m an Asian Chinese), I’m a Chinese. A race full of superstitions and paranormal.
Break a mirror? You’re DEAD! Pee by the side of the road? You’re going to have someone under your bed tonight!
I don’t have a bed frame for my sty. The last sentence is not affecting me.
According to Chinese calendar, 27th July 2014 marks the opening of the ghost gate, and it’ll remain open until 24th August 2014. This period is exactly the full 7th month in the Chinese calendar. It is also a month that – according to Chinese folklore – ghosts from Hell get to enjoy a month of holiday in our mortal world. In simpler words, it means Heimdallr is going to keep his sword in for a month, to allow free access between dimensions via the Bifrost.
I wonder what will happen if he forgets the dateline. Heh.
7th month is still, in Singapore, a month that many people are fearful of, including hypocritical assholes who’ll point at you and laugh at your religion, and at the same time cower behind tons of reasons when you ask them out for late night supper during the devilish month. Even though I have always said that I am an agnostic, I do not want to mess around with unseen spirits. I mean, saints and deities are cool, right? They’re kind, even if you don’t believe in them. But ghosts? I’ll prefer not trying my luck. They could be evil with green eyes and scary fangs. They can’t touch anyone! You know how scary things that can’t touch you are. Like farts and burps. They’re repulsive.
What could be a better thing to do than to share a ghost story that evoke goose bumps during this 7th month? So here I am, being a bastard I always am, sharing with you, the story (Not for the faint hearted!) of:
It is the second night of the 7th month, and it seems to be unusually chilly for a night in this summer. Like any other workday, Jane has to finish her work before she can go home for a night’s rest. The ghost month is not a valid reason to have any work piled up, and Jane, understanding this, switches off her computer after a long day. It’s finally time to head home, and the time is already 9.30pm.
The road to her apartment is dark, and tonight, it is eerie. She walks down the alley with her purse in her hands, and nothing but the aim of getting home as early as she can in her mind. She doubles her footsteps, and hears nothing but echoes of her heels clicking in the silence of the night. Ashes from the incense burnings are brushing her legs as she walks. Not a sight that anyone hopes to see, especially this month of the year.
The lift lobby, as usual, is empty. The guard is nowhere to be seen. She presses the button to the lift.
“Just while more, and I’ll get home.” She assures herself. But deep inside, she has this unsettling feeling that she refuses to acknowledge.
Fear starts to overwhelm her. Breathing gets difficult, and her anxiety is acting up. She comes to terms with herself on the fear she is experiencing. She pulls out her phone, and decides that having someone with her will be a better idea. She calls her mom.
“Mom, can you come down and fetch me? I’m at the lobby, and I’m scared.”
Jane waits patiently for her mom to appear from the lift that is coming down. She notices the lift reaching level 16 – the level of her apartment – and coming down as the indicator panel shows the lift descending slowly from 16th floor to ground floor. The door opens, and her mom walks out to see her arms crossed in front of her chest, gripping her purse tightly.
“Silly girl. You’re just so timid.”
“Thank you, mom. You’re the greatest.” Jane said.
They walk into the lift, and Jane presses the button to the level they are going. The door closes, and soon, both of them are in the metal box transporting them home through ascendance.
The lift was configured to stop at every level, but not level 13. No one knows why, and no one bothers to. Jane looks up. The indicator panel shows them ascending from ground floor to the higher levels gradually. As the number changes from 10th to 11th, then to 12th, Jane feels the coldness wrapping her body, sinking into her bones. She doesn’t feel good whenever the lift passes by level 13, and this time, the feeling is too much for her to bear.
“Mom…” Jane speaks in her timid voice. “Whenever the lift goes through level 13, I always have this feeling that I can’t describe.”
Silence fills the air in the lift. Jane, still looking at the indicator that shows them leaving 12th floor, and reaching 13th, asks, “Mom?” Behind her from where she is standing, a voice is heard:
“Do you think I look like your mother?”
Andy Lawson is the average man on the street that you’ll not even trouble yourself looking at him if he passes by you. He’s sensitive to bullshit, and he hates mediocrity in most people.
He is the author of his self-published book: Facts and Fiction of Fengshui: Facts that Masters are NOT Telling You.
He doesn’t have Facebook or Twitter, because he hates to be associated with people who tend to be passive-aggressive online, but he does have a very limited set of vocabularies, terrible grammar, a twisted mind that makes himself God in his own twisted world and an ability to communicate with people who wish to be his friend.