The Footprints of Time in Hell

The Footprints of Time in Hell

xuannhunt01

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Tells stories surrounding the deceased and scary details

Chapter 1 In the Night of the Body Snatcher.

At the end of autumn and the beginning of winter, many people choose this time to re-bury their deceased relatives. It has been 3 years since my family lost one of its members. And now, the exhumation ceremony is about to take place. In recent days, I've seen my family busy with preparations and contacting the gravediggers, reminding them to come on time. I've often heard about re-burials or moving graves, but I've never had the opportunity to witness it firsthand.

Being curious and always eager to hear mysterious stories related to spirits and ghosts, I decided to seek the opinion of an elder in the family.

"Exhumation is not a simple matter and must be conducted with caution. It's not just about considering age but also about compatibility between the two sides. Not everyone is eligible to participate. Even if it turns cold that day, when the time comes, you have to be ready, even as early as 2-3 in the morning, waiting for the gravedigger to arrive and then perform the ritual meticulously and punctually".

I felt a bit uneasy hearing this, but my aunt said:

"My goodness, he's a descendant of our family, and when you were alive, you loved him dearly. If he wants to participate, let him, don't blow this out of proportion. In the future, suppose if we pass away, he will know how to perform the exhumation. Even though it's not a pleasant task, it's essential. Come here the next day, and we'll wake you up when it's time to go."

My male uncle heard this and his face frowned, looking displeased:

"Alright, but first, make a call to the other side to ask about the age, okay? You were born in the Year of the Horse, right?"

I quickly nodded and waited for my uncle's response.

After a while, he said:

"Okay, but remember to bring some garlic and keep it in your pocket. You two have been close for a long time, I don't want you to face any problems."

"If you follow him, it will definitely be for protection, not harm. I've said many times that I dreamt of him, and he always bestowed good things upon me. I've received so many blessings and didn't know how to use them."

I scratched my head gently and smiled, thinking of our uncle. He passed away three years ago. He was only 45 years old at the time, seemingly with half his life still ahead. Unfortunately, he never had his own family, always doting on us, his nieces and nephews. For some reason, he never wanted to marry. The love he had for us was the most profound, especially for me. He always took care of me and gave me gifts and even money, so I cherished him greatly. Then suddenly one day, he fell ill. Even though it was just a common illness, it took his life swiftly. I couldn't believe he was gone, and his departure shook me deeply.

That week, many family members came to visit. I heard numerous stories about his final days. My grandmother cried listening to them, but many believed he was followed by a restless spirit. There were unexplainable signs leading up to his death. Some even said:

"He wasn't someone easily harmed; in fact, he was stronger than many. But every time he had a new lover, after just a few weeks, they would disappear. The girlfriends he introduced would vanish mysteriously after just a few days. Whenever someone mentioned seeking out a fortune-teller or a shaman for solutions, he would strongly object".

A close family member of his took my grandmother's hand and said:

"Before he passed away, he told me,

My wife has come to take me:

" Hearing those words, my heart ached even more for my uncle. What kind of cruel fate or dark spirit could be so heartless? Time has flown by so fast; three years have passed, and tomorrow my uncle will be moved to his new resting place. I felt honored to be part of the ceremony, though it was also a bit frightening for me. I've watched numerous horror movies, but I've never seen a deceased person's body. My curiosity made me even more impatient.

Finally, the day came. A professional team of 5 men arrived the night before. Every detail, from clothes to accessories and necessary items such as hats, clothes, shoes, flowers, paper money, etc., had all been prepared.

Many events transpired that night, but I only remember a fraction of them now. It drizzled earlier, but by 1 am, the rain had stopped. After completing the ancestral worship ceremony at home, I, along with the family and the exhumation team, proceeded to where my uncle rested. The night was quite chilly, and the quiet atmosphere of the vacant land made me shiver. I was grateful to be accompanied by many, or else I wouldn't have dared to venture there alone. Offerings were presented, and under the dim light, the exhumation team, choosing the right auspicious moment, began to break the ground with their first shovel and pickaxe strokes.

The place was eerily silent, only punctuated by the sound of digging and the rustling of the wind through the trees nearby.

"We found it! Be careful, don't damage it," a voice from the exhumation team echoed, showing their professionalism in their task. I quickly approached, eager to see better, but I was not allowed to get too close.

"Thud...thud...creak...creak..."

The sound of the coffin lid opening sent cold chills, making everyone flinch. As it was opened, the workers were taken aback. One of them, in an astonished tone, remarked:

"Was he really buried three years ago? Why is everything inside still so intact? I've been doing this for 30 years and have never encountered such a case."

Another added with a worried tone:

"This isn't good, the flesh is still attached to the bones!"

Some of my family members were taken aback by the sight. Some were even on the verge of fainting. An elder from the group asked urgently:

"Should we use straw to burn it?"

The old man, who had mentioned his 30 years of experience, quickly replied:

"Don't burn it with straw or any wood! Andrew, go to my car and bring out the four lamps, quickly!"

A man named Andrew hurriedly complied. He returned with four large lamps and the old man continued:

"This is called the Măng Sông lamp. Without it, we can't proceed. If we continue to use alcohol or gasoline to burn, it would be highly inauspicious. Everyone, step back a little, I will continue."

He then directed the group to place my uncle's body on the coffin lid and set the four Măng Sông lamps around the body, each about 40 cm away. Once everything was set up, he addressed my family:

"We only need to light these lamps. Once the body starts to decompose, we can begin the bone collection."

One of the exhumers said with a shaky voice:

"This is not right; the flesh is still intact on the bones!"

They then carefully placed my uncle's body on the coffin lid and set the four lamps around it. The remaining flesh on the bone was gently cut away and cleaned. A while later, the task was completed. Dawn was breaking, and I realized that this would be the first and last time I'd be part of such a ceremony.

Looking at the dining table, the exhumers were still eating joyfully, while I felt a loss of appetite. The leader of the team, chuckling, said:

"This job isn't for everyone. But this case was indeed unique; it took longer than usual. Typically, it only takes about two hours. But with an intact body like that, we had to burn the Măng Sông lamps longer."

Listening to their conversations, I decided to stay and express my gratitude to the exhumers. I mentioned:

"This was my first time witnessing this, and I was genuinely terrified."

The eldest exhumer, with a strong scent of alcohol emanating from his breath, lightly patted my shoulder and said:

"Why are young ones like you so easily scared? This is just exhuming a body. There are far stranger tales out there."

In disbelief, I thought he was just joking. Seeing my reaction, he laughed and looked at the other workers:

"It seems this young man doesn't believe us. Guess what his reaction would be if we told him a truly spine-chilling story?"

The workers laughed, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. To prove my point, I challenged:

"Go ahead, I want to hear it. How can the dead come back to life as if nothing happened? It's impossible!"

The worker grew more serious, sat down, and began:

"Alright then, today I'll tell you about the "Ghost of the Lone Mother.""

The atmosphere became tense; some hinted they didn't want him to revisit the past. However, he began the tale with a mysterious and eerie tone.

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