The Lamp That Takes One's Place

My grandmother lives in an ancient village deep in the mountains.

In the city, red lanterns are hung up for the New Year. But in this village, every household hangs a white paper lantern outside its door on New Year’s Eve.

This year, my grandmother fell seriously ill and specifically asked me to return home and tend the lantern that protects the village through the New Year.

My elders repeatedly warned me: I had to watch over the white paper lantern in the ruined temple all night. The flame must not go out, and I must not leave. As long as the lantern stayed lit until dawn, every elder in the village would live another year.

I stayed awake until first light, when the rooster crowed.

I found them all looking radiant after the night, while my own vital energy had nearly been drained away.

Unwilling to accept my fate, I found that even my days in captivity became the defining moments in which I gradually uncovered the sinister truth.