Horror stories personally experienced by horror novelist Zhou Dedong

Chapter 1 Stepping on strangers (1)
My childhood was very repressed.

Most of the time in Heilong Town, there is a power outage, and after dark, the oil lamps are lit up.At that time, my friends and I were playing hard in the dirt outside, sweating all over our heads, when my mother screamed: "Dongzi! ---Sleep! ---"
Thinking of that distant scene, happiness and sadness.

When I got home, the house was dark. In order to prevent mosquitoes from flying in, the family members turned on the lights early. Of course, the main reason was to save lamp oil.

The long darkness has cultivated my extraordinary imagination.

I lie in the dark and listen quietly.

The chickens in the nest are huddled together and they sleep standing up.It seems that someone stepped on someone's foot, and occasionally there was a muffled mutter.

The lazy pig "chih" in the pen.

A listless dog barks.

The water in the sauerkraut jar bubbled.

Some insect flapped its wings on the window.

The purlin seemed to be overwhelmed, "Squeak", and groaned.

There was a clear snoring sound from a neighbor's house.

A distant person shouted something. . . . . .

When I was 7 years old, one night, I dug out many old photos in a box at home and looked at them under an oil lamp.

The oil lamp blinked wearily in the darkness, and the smell of lamp oil was pungent to the nose.

Most of them are some old black and white photos, which have turned yellow, and I don't know the people on them.The age, location, characters, clothes, expressions in the photos. . . . . .Very old.

"This is your grandfather." My mother said.

The old man in the photo was wearing a black suit and black trousers, sitting upright with a rigid expression on his face.

"Isn't this my grandfather?"
My mother thought about it, and seemed not to know what to say to me.My dad interjected, "This is your grandpa."
I seem to understand, and continue to read.

My mother pointed to another photo and said, "This is your grandpa and your grandma."
The grandpa and grandma in the photo are also wearing black clothes and black trousers, with stern and cold expressions, as if I did something wrong, or my parents did something wrong.

They've been dead for many, many years, and I haven't seen a single face.

I'm afraid of their eyes.

Was that the look in their eyes when they got married?I thought so at the time.

"Who is this?"
I pointed to a photo and asked my mother.The photo is of an old lady, who looks and looks a bit like her grandmother.

"This is... your grandpa's cousin." After my mother finished speaking, she turned to my father and asked, "What should Dongzi call her?"
My dad thought about it and said uncertainly, "Should I call you my aunt?"
The people in Heilong Town do not move, they are either blood relatives or in-laws. Relatives near and far are like the roots of a tree, and relatives like aunt are actually as pale as water.

The reason why my family has photos of my aunt is because country people have the habit of collecting photos. The photos of relatives, friends and neighbors are densely packed in a frame and hung on the wall as decorations.

I looked at the aunt in the photo, and suddenly felt that this old lady looked familiar, as if I had seen her somewhere. . . . . .

An old lady once gave me a popsicle at the gate of the supply and marketing cooperative.At that time, her popsicles were not sold out, but it was raining, so it was impossible for anyone to buy her popsicles. . . . . .not her.

During the Chinese New Year, the dry boat runners came, and the gongs and drums were beating happily.I got into the crowd and accidentally bumped into an old lady, who turned her head and gave me a vicious look. . . . . .not her.

I had a fever, and in the middle of the night my dad carried me to the hospital for an injection. Walking in the dark corridor, passing the door of a ward, I saw an old lady lying on a dirty bed, with a pale face and eyes full of despair and sadness.The nurse said she was going to die. . . . . .not her.

I tried hard, but finally didn't think of it.

That should be a very distant memory, she once flashed before my eyes.There have been thousands of shots like this in my [-] years of life, and I couldn't capture her. . . . . .

"Where is my aunt now?" I asked.

"She's dead."
"But, I've seen her!"
My mother froze for a moment and said, "Where did you see her?"
"I can't remember. I must have seen her, though."
My mother looked at my father, then at me, and said, "Kids, don't talk nonsense."
At night, I heard my parents whispering something in the dark.They thought I was asleep.

I was in a daze, feeling their voices were extremely mysterious.I could tell they were talking about me.

In the distance, there is a child crying faintly, crying extremely slowly, extremely miserable, it must not be just a problem of not being able to find a home.

As I said before, I was born at noon, and the sunflowers were in full bloom.

About half an hour before I was born, my mother was on the kang, screaming from father to mother, and someone sat at the door of my house and cried loudly.

It's a madman, from nowhere.

He was about [-] years old and his face was dusty.He was wearing a dilapidated cotton jacket and trousers, which were empty inside, without even a vest.Bare feet, feet are chapped.

He cried miserably, as if a great tragedy was about to be staged.

Three or two passers-by stood beside him to watch the excitement.

The midwife whispered to my dad that this matter was a bit unlucky.

My dad didn't care: "A lunatic, leave him alone."
There was a teenager in the neighbor's house who let the dog bite the madman.

Dogs are snobbish. One dog rushed up, and the dogs in the neighbors rushed up. Several people who watched the excitement ran away in panic, but the lunatic continued to howl without opening his eyes.

The strange thing is that the dogs ignored the madman, but swooped on the fleeing people.It wasn't until those people ran away that they turned back and surrounded the madman.

You bite the cotton-padded jacket, I bite the cotton-padded trousers, the lunatic is dragged to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

(End of this chapter)