The Day of the Blood Moon

On the day of the Hungry Ghost Festival’s blood moon, I witnessed flocks of birds, packs of foxes, and snowflakes hanging motionless in the air,

> and became certain that the world was nothing but a virtual program riddled with bugs;

> until I saw soldiers escorting a stone coffin while carrying the same group of red foxes through the streets,

> and finally understood that this had always been real. They simply no longer cared to hide it;

> then the red fox at the head of the group suddenly turned to look at me and let out a human-like