The incense ashes at the entrance of the village always condense into the word "weekend" at midnight. In the yellow leather book left by my grandfather, there is half a piece of blood-stained birth date. He thought it was the appearance of the "fairy family" in the village, until the kitchen knife on the stove polished itself, and the window paper was covered with clawed shadows - those so-called "blessings" were originally sacrifices to fill his life.
Recommend good books