The Whispering Burners

In the quaint village of Liren, tucked away amidst misty mountains, the Chen family owned an ancient shop known for selling exquisite incense burners. Among their collection, two pieces were particularly renowned: a Dragon Incense Burner made of dark, almost black bronze, with dragons that seemed to writhe in a dance of flames, and a simple Brass Incense Burner, polished to a deceptive innocence.

Late one evening, as the village slept, Old Man Chen decided to clean the burners in preparation for the coming festival. He started with the Brass Incense Burner, its surface cold and smooth under his fingers. As he polished, he felt a strange warmth emanating from the metal, a warmth that grew uncomfortably hot to the touch. Startled, he placed it down, turning his attention to the Dragon Incense Burner. As he did, a faint whispering filled the room, though he was alone.

The whispers grew louder, emanating from the Dragon Incense Burner. They spoke in tongues long forgotten, voices intertwining like the dragons carved into its sides. Heart pounding, Old Man Chen leaned closer, trying to decipher the ancient words. The air around him chilled, his breath visible in the moonlight streaming through the window.

Suddenly, the room darkened as the whispers became a growl. The dragons on the burner seemed to move, their eyes glowing a fierce red. Terrified, Old Man Chen stumbled backward, knocking over the Brass Incense Burner. As it hit the ground, the room filled with an overwhelming silence, the temperature returning to normal, and the Dragon Incense Burner still once more.

Shaken, Old Man Chen spent a sleepless night, the burners sitting ominously on the shelf. Come morning, he decided to rid himself of them, fearing their strange powers. He buried them deep in the woods at the edge of the village, hoping to forget the night's horrors.

Years passed, and the burners faded from memory, their legends becoming mere whispers themselves. However, on stormy nights, when the wind howled through the trees, villagers reported hearing a symphony of whispers and growls near the woods, chilling their bones and quickening their steps. They spoke of the Whispering Burners, a tale not of this world, a reminder of the night when the boundary between the earthly and the ethereal blurred terrifyingly in Old Man Chen’s shop.

As new generations dared each other to retrieve the burners, none who ventured into the woods returned unchanged. Some spoke of visions of otherworldly fires, others of eyes in the darkness, watching, always watching. The Whispering Burners remained hidden, their power undiminished, a thrilling and chilling enigma of Liren, feared and revered in equal measure.