Whispers of the Ma Da: A Legend from the River

Unable to shake the fear and mystery of that night, An became obsessed with the idea of proving whether the Ma Da was real or just a local myth. She began to research old stories and legends about spirits and supernatural occurrences. The more she read, the more she discovered how deep-rooted the belief in these spirits was in the local culture. It was as if every corner of the village, every river, and every whisper of the wind held a piece of a larger truth that no one dared to question.

Determined to find answers, An visited the oldest woman in the village, a spiritual healer named Ba Hoa. Ba Hoa had lived through countless floods, accidents, and strange happenings in the area. Some of the villagers claimed she had the ability to communicate with spirits, while others swore she had seen things that defied explanation. An approached her cautiously, unsure of what to expect, but hoping to uncover something more than just rumors.

Ba Hoa welcomed her with a knowing smile, her eyes sharp and piercing despite her age. "You've come to ask about the Ma Da, haven’t you?" she said before An could even speak.

An nodded, a chill running down her spine. "How do you know?" she asked, amazed.

Ba Hoa chuckled softly. "The river speaks in its own way. The Ma Da has been here longer than anyone can remember. If you want to understand, you must be willing to face what others fear." The old woman handed An a small incense burner and whispered something in her ear, a warning, though it wasn’t clear whether it was a prayer or a prophecy.

That night, An and Ba Hoa set out for the river. The air was thick with anticipation. The darkness felt alive, almost tangible, and An could sense something watching her. They walked in silence, the only sound being the crunch of dry leaves beneath their feet. As they approached the water’s edge, the moonless night swallowed up the surroundings, casting everything into pitch-blackness. The river was eerily quiet, but An felt an unsettling stillness in the air.

Ba Hoa lit the incense and held it aloft, chanting in a language An didn’t understand. As the incense smoke rose, swirling like a dark fog, the temperature seemed to drop. An felt her breath become shallow, her heart racing as the night grew colder. The shadows around them seemed to stretch unnaturally, and the faintest rustling of water echoed in the distance.

Then, without warning, the air grew heavy, as if the river itself was holding its breath. A cold wind swept through the trees, carrying with it a whispering voice that seemed to call An’s name. "An..." it murmured, distant but unmistakable. The ground beneath her feet felt soft, almost like it was pulling her down.

A pale figure slowly emerged from the river, its skin translucent and waterlogged. It had long, dark hair that clung to its face, obscuring its features. But An could see its hollow eyes staring directly at her. A voice, deep and raspy, echoed from the figure’s mouth. "You should not have come. I will pull you into the depths, just like all the others."

An froze, terror gripping her chest as she realized she was face to face with the Ma Da, the very spirit that had haunted the village for generations. The cold hands reached out, grasping for her legs, and An could feel the weight of the water rising around her ankles, as if the very river was trying to pull her in.

Just as she thought it was too late, Ba Hoa stepped forward, her voice loud and commanding. "Leave her, spirit of the river! You will not claim another soul tonight!" She threw a handful of salt into the water, and the figure recoiled, screeching in agony as the salt hit the water. The Ma Da let out a final, blood-curdling scream before sinking back into the river, its form dissipating into the waves.

The river was silent once again. An stood there, shaking uncontrollably, her legs weak beneath her. She had faced the Ma Da and lived to tell the tale. But she knew the encounter was not over. The spirit had not truly been defeated. The legend was real, and the Ma Da was still out there, waiting for its next victim.

Ba Hoa placed a hand on An’s shoulder, guiding her away from the river. "The Ma Da will always be there, watching. But remember this: it can only take those who are lost—those who do not believe."

As they walked back to the village, An’s mind raced. She had witnessed something beyond comprehension. The fear she had once brushed off had become her reality. The Ma Da was not a story, it was a warning.