Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Shadows of Fire

"What's your name, little boy?" the old man asked, his voice raspy and curious.

I glanced up at him, feeling uneasy. "My name is Nathan."

"Do you believe in ghosts, Nathan?" he asked with a slow, unsettling grin.

I shook my head. "No, sir."

He chuckled softly. "I used to think like you. But one day, I met an old man... just like you did today."

I frowned, confused. "What does that mean?"

"You'll see," he said, his grin widening, eyes glinting with something sinister.

When I got home, I told my dad about the strange encounter. He didn't say much, just gave me a stern look and warned, "Never trust strangers, son." It was unlike him to be so serious, but I didn't dwell on it.

That night, I went to bed, trying to shake the eerie feeling that lingered after meeting the old man. But then, I heard it—the crackling sound of fire, faint at first, then growing louder. Panic surged through me as I rushed to the window. Flames danced outside. The house was on fire.

Everything happened so fast. The next thing I knew, my parents were gone—swallowed by the flames. I stood outside in shock, staring at the burning ruins of my home. And that's when I saw it—a shadow in the fire.

It was him. The old man. His figure was warped by the flames, but I could still hear his laughter, echoing through the night. I was frozen in fear, unable to move or speak, as his shadow flickered and faded away.

My grandmother, who had been by my side the whole time, gently placed her hand on my shoulder. "It's going to be alright, Nathan. All we need is faith," she whispered. Her voice was steady, but I could see the fear in her eyes.

Grandma was deeply religious, always telling me stories about the power of faith. One story, in particular, stuck with me. She said it happened back when she lived in Japan.

There was a man in her village, quiet and unassuming. He never bothered anyone, even when people picked fights with him. But one day, he snapped. During a fight, he broke a man's arm, then his neck. The man fled into the woods after the attack, and no one saw him again—at least, not alive.

When the authorities found him days later, all that remained was his skeleton. But that wasn't the most horrifying part. There was a note written in blood beside his bones. It said: Don't run.

The villagers were terrified, especially when a crow flew out of the skeleton's mouth, carrying a letter. That same night, a man who looked just like the dead one knocked on their door.

When my grandma and her friends opened it, they heard a chilling voice say, "He who lurks in the shadows, Ching Fang. Those who helped in his death will suffer, for generations." Then, the figure crumbled to the ground—lifeless, once more.

Since that night, my grandma has never missed a day at church. She prays for protection, afraid that the curse that followed Ching Fang might still linger in our bloodline.