ghost.

That afternoon the sky began to turn orange, the wind blew gently carrying the smell of dry leaves and wet soil after the rain this afternoon. You walked alone into the back garden of the house, carrying a machete and an empty sack — you wanted to look for dry twigs for firewood.

The garden was lush. Teak and bamboo trees crisscrossed, blocking out part of the sky. The sound of crickets began to fade, and occasionally birds flew back to their nests. You were busy cutting dry twigs, stuffing them one by one into a sack. You arrived at a quiet spot, between two large trees.

Suddenly the wind stopped.

The atmosphere became silent. Too silent. Only the sound of your own heartbeat could be heard in your ears.

You look to the left. Nothing. To the right. Also nothing. But the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand on end. There's a strange feeling—as if eyes are staring at you from behind the bushes.

Bluk.

Soft voice. Like a heavy object jumping on the ground.

you froze. The hand holding the machete trembled softly. Slowly, you looked back.

Among the bushes stood a figure wrapped in a faded and dirty white cloth. The cloth wrapped around his entire body, tied at the top of his head. His face was in shadow, but you could feel his eyes staring intently at you. His feet were invisible—he was hopping slowly across the ground.

scare people