Horror stories personally experienced by horror novelist Zhou Dedong

Chapter 19 Maze (3)
"Where are you from?"
"It's a long way from here. I drove for three days."
"Are you in business?"
"Open a factory."
"What factory?"
"plastic factory."
"What products are manufactured?"
"I do not want to tell you."
"why?"
"You'll be scared."
"No way?"
"I make models."
"Is this scary?"
"The mannequins I make are more human than human."
The way she speaks makes me feel awkward.After a while, I asked again: "Do you like reading books?"
"No. I like collecting."
"Aren't you my reader?"
"no."
"Then how do you know me?"
"By calling."
"When did you call me?"
"This afternoon."
I suddenly felt that I had fallen into a terrible trap.

"What do you collect?" I continued to ask calmly.

"Bottles, I love collecting bottles."
"bottle?"
"Bottles. Wine bottles, canning bottles, perfume bottles, soy sauce bottles, medicine bottles, etc."
"I've heard of people collecting stamps, sparkles, horns, but not bottles."
"I have been in this city for more than ten days, and I have collected and broken many bottles." She sighed.

I think she is a poet, a very deep poet.Time and time again I pull the topic from poetry to poetry, because I am afraid of poets, especially female poets.

"This tea house is very remote, how did you find it?" I asked.

"I was looking for someone in this mountain, but I found it."
"Who are you looking for?"
"I don't know myself."
There seemed to be a bat flying outside. Its wings scraped against the window and flew away in a hurry.

"Do you... like it here?" I asked again.

"Like it. Especially tonight."
"why?"
"Because of a power outage."
"You like black?"
She didn't answer, just looked at me quietly, and suddenly said, "You seem to be afraid of me."
"Somewhat."
She smiled and said, "No one has ever been afraid of me except children,"
"Why are children afraid of you?" I became alert.

Still laughing, she said, "Once, I went to a man's place to spend the night. His wife was not at home, but his child was at home. The child was about one year old. When I entered the room, the light was not turned on, and the child was asleep. Suddenly , he burst into tears and couldn't be coaxed. I tried to hide, but he stopped crying. I walked in the door softly again, and he cried again...it was so dark, I couldn't see myself , but he seemed to be able to see me."
Soon, we finished eating the melon seeds.

She picked up the empty plate and fiddled with it, and suddenly asked me: "Do you believe in dish immortals?"
I said, "I don't believe it."
She sighed and said, "When I left home, I once asked Die Xian if I could survive the night of the century, and the answer I got was——no."
"Today?" My nerves tensed instantly.

"Nowadays."
"Do you believe it?"
"letter."
"It will be tomorrow in a few hours. Why can't you get through it? Is the sky going to fall?"
"God knows."
"I also asked Die Xian if I was my father's son."
"what is the answer?"
"——Yes. Later, I felt that the question I asked was wrong. Of course I am my father's son. I asked again, if I am Zhou Xianchun's son. My father's name is Zhou Xianchun, and I got two words——No."
She smiled.She looks better not smiling than smiling.

(Reality: [-]%)

second candle

It's getting late.

"Let's go to the room and talk."
"Looks like I have to go home."
"Come with me to see my collection."
"......Ok."
I followed her out of the teahouse and onto a cobblestone road.

The tall withered grass sneakily protruded from the gaps in the stone slabs, looking a bit desolate.

We passed through one cold high threshold after another and came to a courtyard, which is the guest room.

There seemed to be no guests, and all the guest rooms were dark.The moonlight shone on the face of the guest room, which was very pale.The eaves are thick, and its shadow covers the dark windows.

She opened a room and we walked in.

She lit a dozen candles and lined them up in front of the window.

This room is no different from an ordinary hotel, except that the bathroom is very large.

There are many glass bottles on the desk, all empty, large and small, of all shapes and sizes.In the candlelight, the bottles shone with an obscure and mysterious light.

"Since when have you been interested in bottles?" I asked.

"Born to like it," she said.Meanwhile, take a bottle and wipe it down carefully with a rag.The neck of the bottle is a bit dirty.

After wiping it clean, she carefully put it back in place.

She sat in front of me, smiled and said, "Do you think I look like a bottle?"
I laughed too and said, "Like, you're the prettiest bottle in the room."
"We are easy to break. If I break, will you feel bad?" Her smile gradually subsided.

My smile also subsided, and I felt that she was starting to lose her voice again.

"Do you feel in danger?" she said suddenly.

I am afraid that my wife will call suddenly, I am afraid that the police will come to check the night suddenly, I am afraid that the monk sitting at the gate of the mountain will suddenly break in, I am afraid. . . . . .

(End of this chapter)