My name is An Ran. I was born in a tiny village in the south, so small it barely appears on a map. The mountains, rivers, plants, and trees here seem steeped in an ancient, unspeakable presence.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve heard the elders whispering in hushed voices, and seen things like:
Shadows longer than a person beneath the moon;
Green flames flickering beside a dry well;
Footsteps sounding for no reason in the dead of night;
An inexplicable chill deep in the old house;
A white figure flashing past on the ridge between fields;
A clear voice calling from outside the window on a rainy night…
Those moments that defied reason, those shocks and mysteries that lingered in my heart, became an inseparable part of my upbringing.
I’ve gathered and organized the strange tales scattered across the countryside, weaving them into stories. Some are uncanny, some heartwarming, and some send chills down your spine.
I write them not only to record the secrets hidden in that land, but also to find people scattered across the world who may share similar memories.
Have you ever seen an unusual shadow beneath the moon?
Heard an inexplicable whisper in the wind?
If something similarly “strange” has ever touched your heart, then let’s meet in the candlelight of these stories,
and confirm the existence of that same, subtle yet real otherworldly landscape buried deep in our memories.
Though a candle burns dimly, it can become a river of stars.
