"Three Days Left"
On the night of Ma Laosan's wife's burial, her body had already escaped the coffin. She even paid a chilling visit to my house at the stroke of midnight.
Back then, Jiushan Village was extremely impoverished. There was no electricity, and families relied on candles or kerosene lamps. Even so, most villagers couldn't afford to light them for long and usually went to bed early. That night, as my parents were deep in sleep, a rhythmic knocking sound came from their bedroom window: three long knocks and one short. Exhausted from a day of farm work, they initially dismissed it as the wind or a bat hitting the window and paid no attention.
But the knocking persisted, growing more urgent. Still half-asleep, my father got up to check, opening the window to see what it was. What he saw made his blood run cold—a bloated, corpse-spotted face, reeking of decay. It was Ma Laosan's wife, her lips still curled into the sinister grin she had at her death.
My father, fully awake now, let out a blood-curdling scream and fell backward onto the floor. His cry woke my mother and me. I'll never forget the terror of Ma Laosan's wife's face—it haunted my nightmares for years. My mother, petrified, clung to me, trembling in silence.
The corpse spoke. First came a chilling laugh, then her eyes locked onto mine. "Three days left... three days left..."
My father's scream roused my grandfather, who slept in the eastern wing. Grabbing his gleaming machete, he charged into the room. A war-hardened veteran who had killed Japanese soldiers during the war, my grandfather was braver than most. But even he shuddered when he saw the ghostly figure at the window.
"Ma Laosan's wife," he said sternly, "I know you're filled with resentment, but this is fate. Don't blame others. If you don't leave, I won't hesitate to use this machete. I've cut down countless Japanese devils with it—what's one more ghost?"
With that, he brandished the blade, its polished surface glinting faintly in the moonlight. To our astonishment, Ma Laosan's wife turned and hobbled away, her skeletal foot dragging behind her. As she left, her eerie laughter echoed in the night. "Three days left... three days left..."
Shaken, our family stayed awake until dawn, racking our brains over her cryptic words. What could "three days left" mean?
The next morning, an elderly shepherd discovered that Ma Laosan's wife's fresh grave had been disturbed. When Ma Laosan and others investigated, they found the grave torn open. The overturned soil and broken coffin boards scattered around suggested she had clawed her way out herself. The mere thought of it sent chills down everyone's spine.
No one in the village knew that Ma Laosan's wife had visited our house. We chose to keep it quiet, not wanting to worsen the already tense relationship with Ma Laosan's family.
Ma Laosan assumed his wife's body had been stolen, which wasn't uncommon in those days. Young female corpses were in high demand for various sinister purposes. Though Ma Laosan's wife wasn't particularly attractive, she was under thirty, making her a prime target.
But the truth was far more horrifying. That night, she returned to our house.
Still terrified from the previous visit, my mother refused to sleep. My father tried to reassure her, claiming the body had likely been stolen. Even so, my mother insisted my grandfather stay in the main hall, ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble.
Despite their fears, exhaustion eventually overcame them. But in the dead of night, the knocking returned. It was the same rhythmic pattern: three long knocks and one short.
This time, my father woke immediately. He sat up, peering through the moonlit window, and saw a dark figure outside, rhythmically tapping on the glass. My mother broke into sobs, clutching me tightly under the covers.
My grandfather, ever vigilant, burst into the room with his machete. The faint moonlight revealed her unmistakable face, swollen and corpse-spotted. Ma Laosan's wife was back, grinning maliciously.
"Ma Laosan's wife!" my grandfather shouted. "Enough is enough! I'm an old man who's lived his life. If you've got the guts, come after me! Kill me, and I'll haunt you as a ghost!"
He thrust the machete toward the window, shattering it. Outside, Ma Laosan's wife stood motionless, her empty, white eyes gleaming eerily. In a sharp, piercing voice, she repeated her chilling refrain: "Three days left... three days left... heeheehee…"
Even my fearless grandfather couldn't suppress a sharp intake of breath at the sight of her grotesque form. After delivering her message, she limped away into the darkness, her skeletal foot scraping against the ground.
"Dad..." my father whispered, trembling. "Last night, she said there were four days left. Tonight, it's three. Do you think... in three days, she'll take us all with her?"