This is a true story, a story that happened forty years ago, when I was eleven years old.
A green train came over. I stood under the roadbed, looking at the people in the carriage with envy, thinking how great it would be if I could get on the train! Just as the train passed by, an incredible thing happened. A ball the size of a basketball, shining with orange light, appeared at the rear of the train. Then, the ball flew over my head while grazing the treetops. Seeing the scene in front of me, I subconsciously ran with the ball.
I ran into the woods and looked around, searching for traces of flying saucers. Suddenly, there was a noise of gongs and drums from the north. Looking carefully, a small village appeared in front of me. I'm so surprised. This place is obviously a cemetery. When did someone live there? Out of curiosity, I walked along the trail unexpectedly.
I ran back to the woods in one breath and couldn't help but look back. The scene in front of me shocked me. The houses in the "village" had now turned into graves. The blue lanterns in front of the houses turned into will-o'-the-wisps floating above the graves. The people in the square also disappeared without a trace, and everything was restored to its original state.
I stood there frozen, fear gripping me. At this time, a familiar voice came over, and my father's figure appeared in front of me. He came to find me.
Concept: Showing a microcosm of an era from a young man's perspective