Nguyen_H_N

No one knows exactly when, but "Ma Lon - The Ghost Can Ritual" has long become a familiar game passed down through generations of children in the neighborhood, whispered from one group of kids to the next.
On summer nights when the power goes out, children sneak out of their homes, gathering in the dimly lit streets to catch the cool breeze. They share spine-chilling stories they’ve heard from older kids—tales that grow more twisted with each retelling.
And among all the ghost stories, the one they love the most—the one they never get tired of hearing—is the legend of the "Ma Lon" game.
Who would believe it? On the first moonless night of the month, when the clock strikes midnight and the darkness spreads thick like ink, all it takes is an empty can, three sticks of incense, and a few coconut candies to summon a restless spirit. A soul that once lived in this very neighborhood—trapped, unable to move on—will enter the can…
And then, the game of tag begins.

Ma lon - The Ghost Can Ritual

From the seemingly bottomless hole on the shadow's surface, an eerie cacophony suddenly erupted—grating screeches, guttural roars, mournful wails, and harsh, piercing laughter so unsettling that Dũng's knees buckled beneath him. Clutching his ears tightly, he still couldn't block out the chilling, sorrowful laughter that echoed inside his head:

"Because of you… because of you, I became like this… You stripped away my soul and body, turning me into… into… Ma lon."

Dũng whispered, as if trying to convince himself. A cold dread seized him as the familiar tale of Ma lon resurfaced in his mind—one they had heard countless times. Ma lon would possess the first child it bit, taking over their body, and then use that borrowed flesh to harm its friends…

To summon Ma lon, one needed a restless soul who had once lived in that area. That night, they hadn't managed to summon any wandering spirits, but they had driven Minh to his death, trapping his soul inside the can. Now, they were paying the price, one by one…

Dũng recalled how, earlier that afternoon, he and Ngọc had desperately discussed how to break the curse hanging over them. While Ngọc kept insisting that it was Ma lon, Dũng had vehemently denied it, arguing that it was Minh. But now, the truth was clear—they had both been wrong. Minh was Ma lon.

A sudden jolt of terror struck Dũng as the streetlights began flickering off one by one, darkness creeping in. The entire neighborhood was abruptly plunged into a blackout, and the streetlight above him blinked erratically. Frantically searching his pockets, he realized he had already given all the flashlights to Ngọc earlier. She was slower than him and would need them more.

He screamed just as the darkness swallowed him whole, just as the thick ash filled his nose and mouth. Before everything faded, he caught a glimpse of a young girl approaching. The flashlight in her hand glimmered faintly before she switched it off. Step by step, she advanced, as if ready to embrace death, as if longing to reunite with her friends, unwilling to be left alone in this world.

Summoning the last of his strength, Dũng bellowed:

The girl's lips curled into a relieved smile. She instantly flicked the flashlight back on and sprinted towards him. For a moment, Dũng thought Ngọc would reach his side and use the flashlights he had given her to protect them both.

But all she did was stand beside him, staring straight into the eerie, distorted shadow of Minh—no, of Ma lon—bathed in her own light. Occasionally, she glanced at Dũng with an emotionless gaze, though at times, there was a flicker of joy.

"I know," Ngọc said, locking eyes with Dũng's desperate, pleading stare.

"And we just wanted to be together again… To stay as children forever…"

The shadow extended one ashen, smoke-filled hand towards Dũng. With the other, it clasped Ngọc's hand—despite her being in the protective light.

Dazed, Dũng watched as Minh's hand of dust held onto Ngọc's flesh-and-blood hand, both illuminated by the flashlight's glow.

"Deep down, you never wanted to grow up. None of you did. You all just wanted to keep playing forever. So…"

The first rays of morning pierced through the damp fog that blanketed the neighborhood. The golden light danced upon a swirling cloud of pale ash, scattering like children playing a game of tag in the sun.

Gradually, those tiny, drifting specks dispersed into the wind, leaving behind a lingering shape—a group of seven children, no older than eleven or twelve, joyfully chasing each other.

They rose higher and higher into the sunlight, leaving behind the lifeless bodies of a boy and a girl curled up against a utility pole. Scattered around them were countless flashlights and a small, charred, misshapen, and battered can.

Chap 11: No One Survived