The Night Spirit's Call

The moonlight had faded into a pale glow. It was nearly midnight. An old house that no longer had any occupants stood at the village's edge, next to a decaying bamboo grove. But the villagers claimed that every night, the sound of someone crying could be heard from inside.

Robin, a young writer from the city, didn’t believe in such superstitions. He made the decision to spend the night in that house and see everything firsthand.

The broken glass of the window shimmered in the moonlight. Using a torch, Robin entered the residence. He climbed to the second floor. There was a sudden loud noise, like someone had closed the door downstairs. As he cautiously descended and spread the torchlight throughout the room, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned around—no one was there. Robin's arms were shaking with goosebumps despite the slight chill in the air. Suddenly, everything went dark—his torch had turned off. Then there was a soft whisper: "Where is my son? Bring him back to me…”

What Robin thought was just a superstition turned out to be the wailing of an innocent mother's spirit. He never returned to that house again. But even now, if someone stands near the bamboo grove at midnight, they might still hear that same question—
"Where is my child?"