Grandma died on the first seven nights, and I returned to the village to keep vigil.
The rules of the village: Don't draw eyes on people who are stuck in paper. If you draw them, they will live.
On the night of the wake, a paper coffin was blocked at the door. The eyes on the face were drawn by my grandmother.
The village chief said that this is called "paper wedding dress". Every forty years, a bride is chosen and married to the ghost at the bottom of the well.
He said, I'm next.
Grandma left me a pair of scissors, a copper coin, and a line of words:
"When the paper man regains his soul, the first seven kill him. Don't look back."
I don't believe in ghosts, but I believe in grandma.
Until the moment I went down the well, a voice came from the bottom of the well:
"You are finally here. I have been waiting for you for twenty-five years."
——That's my mother's voice.
She died the day I was born.
