Chinese parasol tree

On the outskirts of City A, there is a park called Wutong Park. Why is it called that? The answer is simple: the park is filled with tall and stately phoenix trees (commonly known as sycamores or plane trees), creating a beautiful landscape. If it weren’t for the stone steps, ponds, and pavilions, one might mistake it for a primeval forest at first glance.

Despite its pleasant scenery, Wutong Park was once a disorganized cemetery, with countless corpses and remains buried beneath the ground. Decades ago, a fabulously wealthy tycoon purchased the land with the intention of building a park. Ignoring the objections of many, he destroyed all the graves, haphazardly scattering the remains elsewhere. He then planted numerous phoenix trees. Shortly after the park was completed, the tycoon died mysteriously, and his family’s fortune plummeted. To make ends meet, his family transferred the park’s management to the local government. The older generation claims that Wutong Park is filled with the lingering resentment of the dead, and it is not a place to linger. However, the younger generation doesn’t seem to believe these tales. They love the park and consider it an ideal spot for holiday outings.

On a cool Sunday, a young couple brought their five-year-old son to Wutong Park. Perhaps due to the sudden drop in temperature and the rain from the previous day, the park was nearly deserted. The slightly yellow leaves of the phoenix trees had fallen everywhere, covering the ground like a yellow carpet. The young couple, armed with a camera, took photos everywhere. They positioned their child under the largest phoenix tree in the park and snapped a picture of him.

However, as they were about to take a second photo, the child suddenly began to sway unnaturally from side to side, his face turning extremely pale, as if he were in great discomfort. Sensing something was wrong, the father rushed to his son’s side, grabbed him, and asked, “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

The child weakly replied, “Daddy, I feel bad. My shoulders hurt.” As soon as he finished speaking, the child’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted and fell to the ground.

The parents were terrified and quickly took their child to the hospital. Upon arrival, the child inexplicably developed a high fever. The doctors examined him thoroughly but could not determine the cause. With no other options, the parents took their child back home and tried to reduce his fever with ice and wet towels, but there was no sign of improvement.

At this moment, the mother suddenly remembered that she had a distant aunt living in City A. In her youth, this aunt had been a witch doctor, treating many difficult and strange illnesses and even performing exorcisms. Perhaps she could cure their child. The mother called her aunt, and soon, the aunt arrived at their home.

The aunt carefully examined the child lying in bed and then felt his forehead. Her expression grew solemn as she slowly said, “This child has been possessed by something unclean.”

“What!” the parents exclaimed in shock. “How could our child be possessed by something unclean?”

The aunt said sternly, “Tell me honestly, where did you go before this happened to the child?”

“We went to Wutong Park. We were about to take a photo of him under the largest phoenix tree when he suddenly fainted,” the father said.

“I see,” the aunt sighed, taking out two pieces of talisman paper from her pocket. She bit her finger, drew a few symbols on the paper with her blood—symbols that most people couldn’t understand. She then took out a lighter, lit the paper, and dropped it into a cup half-filled with water.

The aunt handed the cup of ash water to the child’s mother and said, “Give this water to the child to drink.”

“Aunt, will the child be okay after drinking this?” the mother asked.

“This is all I can do. The rest is up to your luck,” the aunt said to the child’s mother. “Buy some joss paper and alcohol, go to the large tree in Wutong Park, burn the paper, and pour the alcohol over the ashes. If that entity accepts your offering, it might stop haunting the child.” After speaking, the aunt left a protective amulet for the child and departed.

The parents hurriedly followed the aunt’s instructions, buying a lot of joss paper and alcohol. They went to Wutong Park, knelt down under the phoenix tree, lit the paper, and bowed their heads in reverence before leaving anxiously. Strangely enough, soon after they returned home, the child’s fever subsided, and he returned to normal.

Relieved that their child was fine, the parents finally breathed a sigh of relief. The next day, the father prepared to transfer the photos taken in the park the previous day to his computer. However, as he opened the photo of his son on the computer, his expression immediately turned to horror—among the leaves of the phoenix tree behind his son, a pair of pale, withered hands stretched out, resting on the child’s shoulders.