[T/N] I apologize for grammar mistakes and incoherencies
Chapter 5: Moon 2 Fate
“Phii Khen...Phii Khen”
The knocking and Bing’s voice calling out made me jump and come to my senses. I lifted my head from where it had slumped on my arm, then looked around in confusion, my heart still racing. Was that just a dream?
I turned to look at Bing. He stood at the door, looking at me, the door still wide open as it was when I first entered the room. I glanced at him skeptically, still confused between reality and dream, it was strange to realize I hadn’t left this room at all.
“I was thinking of staying here with you.” Bing said.
I nodded, trying to compose myself, “Have you been here long?”
“Just a little while, I saw you slumped over the table. I wasn’t sure if you were asleep so I called out to see.”
“And then you saw...”
‘Did you see your spirit leaving the room?’ I stopped myself from saying that...no way, it sounded like I had a problem with my brain. But that dream was too vivid, intense in every sensory detail. Whether it was the sight, the smell, the sound, or the touch, it felt so real that it was hard to believe it was just a dream.
“Is there something wrong, Phii? Why the weird face?” Bing walked into the room.
I rubbed my eyes, “I had a dream, a very strange dream.”
“What did you dream about?” He sat down on the bed.
“I dreamt of that foreign kid, the one I told you about, the one I saw sitting on the bed that night, but I’m not sure if I dreamt it or actually saw him. But in this dream, he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was grown up, tall, very handsome, with a half-Western look, playing the piano in the main hall outside. But he seemed unhappy to see me there. He chased me right up to this room, but then I woke up.”
Bing thought for a moment before asking, “Phii Khen, how long has it been since you’ve had a boyfriend?”
“Huh...?” I furrowed my brows, “What kind of question is that?”
“I got the gist that you dreamt of a half-Western guy, very handsome, who came into your bedroom. Are you so desperate that you need to dream up a guy who was a kid and now is a grown up?”
“We’re being serious here, and you’re still in the mood for messing around?”
“It’s because we’re stressed that we need to let off some steam, otherwise we’ll go mad.” He glanced towards Phii Teo’s room, “Phii Namwa cried herself to sleep, Phii Thaen and Phii Teo are still talking. Can I sleep with you tonight?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, “Not afraid that something weird might happen in this room?”
Bing looked around, “I don’t feel anything, should be okay, I guess.”
After a while, Bing went to get his stuff and moved to sleep in my room. We leaned against the headboard, side by side. He grumbled about his iPad being smashed for nothing, then whispered,
“Phii Khen, who do you think the woman in that room was?”
“No idea.”
“I’m so confused about what she wants. We should have been kicked out of here, not stuck like this, unless...” He paused for a moment before continuing, “Someone took something from her, and she wants it back. That’s why she won’t let us go.”
I thought about it, but I couldn’t recall doing anything like what Bing mentioned, “I’m sure it wasn’t me, because I barely touched anything here. Definitely didn’t mess around and take anything.”
“I’m the same.” Bing yawned, “I’m sleepy. Let’s go to sleep.”
He fluffed up his pillow and lay down, but just as he was about to fall asleep, Thaen turned back towards me with a mischievous grin, “Phii Khen, will you dream of that man again tonight?”
“Huh...?”
“Take me into your dream too, I promise I’ll stay quiet and not interrupt your good time with him.”
“I’ll probably suffocate you with a pillow in your sleep.”
Bing laughed and turned his back to me. He mumbled softly, “I wish we could leave this place tomorrow.”
I sighed deeply, wishing for the same.
The next day. We stood in a circle on the lawn in front of the house, discussing. Everyone looked tense, but it was better than last night when we were all losing our minds. A good night’s sleep had restored some energy and sanity.
We helped each other analyze what had happened. Of course, there were no answers regarding this matter; who that ghost woman was and what she wanted remained a dark mystery, and the one thing we all agreed on was that she was incredibly scary.
After exhausting our discussion, we shifted from seeking the cause to finding a way out instead.
“Last night, Teo and I thought we should try a different approach than yesterday.” Phii Thaen said, “We don’t know what the factor is, why everyone is stuck in this loop, but we should try to distract her by splitting up and going different ways. Maybe someone can escape. We won’t try to escape as a group like yesterday.”
“Together we failed, apart we might survive.” Phii Teo added.
I pondered what Phii Teo and Phii Thaen had said. It was a trial-and-error approach, but who knows if it would work if we didn’t try. I nodded in agreement.
Bing glanced nervously at the house before whispering, “Do you think it can sense our thoughts?”
Phii Teo chuckled, “Don’t talk like it’s alive, man, you’re freaking me out.”
“Okay...it’s not alive, but I’m wondering if that inanimate thing in the house is listening to us right now.”
Phii Teo seemed to have lost all patience, “I think I’m not the most foul-mouthed one in our group anymore.”
“Enough. Let’s not argue.” Phii Namwa raised her hand, “Thaen and I have decided we won’t take anything except our wallets. The rest of you, take whatever you feel comfortable with.”
“I don’t have much, my iPad is already smashed.” Bing said with a flat tone, though it carried an edge of sarcasm, not looking at anyone in particular.
Phii Teo averted his gaze momentarily before turning away. He decided he would take his camera.
“Remember, if anyone actually manages to get out, just go.” Phii Thaen said firmly, “Don’t worry about whether the others are still trapped or not.”
We all looked at each other and nodded, understanding that everyone had to try to save themselves.
So today, we would go our separate ways. No one wanted to use the car. I decided to take it. I offered to drive everyone to the end of the alley, and then we would part ways.
I didn’t tell anyone where I was going to start from. While everyone else was thinking of ways to escape, I did the opposite. I grabbed my laptop and drove towards Chiang Mai University’s library.
It’s not that I didn’t want to escape this crazy loop, but deep down, I felt it wouldn’t be that simple. Something was bothering me, like there was a knot that needed untying. We could only be free once we unraveled it, and I was determined to find it, to solve the mystery of what it wanted from us.
I went back to the library to start anew. I intended to research more thoroughly than before, still wondering if the strange dreams and the woman’s hand I saw were connected, who that woman was, what happened to her, and why her spirit still lingered in that house.
I piled up a stack of books on the table, including ones I had read before in case I missed something. I took a deep breath, focused, and began to go through each book one by one.
Hours passed as I absorbed the information, but I was still groping in the dark. I saw only the woman’s hand clutching the doorframe, but not her body or face. There was no way for me to know who she was. Eventually, I ended up with the same book I had read before. I looked at the photograph of Thomas and his wife again.
My heart skipped a beat when I looked at the photograph in the book. I hadn’t thought much of it before, but after the last strange dream, looking at this photo again changed my perspective.
Thomas looked remarkably similar in build and facial features to that young man. I stared in excitement; their frames were almost a match, except the man in the dream had a softer, more gentle face, a mix of Thai and Western features, with wide, sparkling brown eyes, thick Western-style eyelids, a high nose that complemented beautifully shaped lips, combining sharpness and sweetness. Meanwhile, Thomas looked much sterner. They were definitely not the same person, but they might be related by blood.
I then shifted my gaze to the picture of Thomas’s wife. I didn’t know if she was the same as the spirit of the woman in that room; it was too strange to think so because, according to the book, Thomas’s wife and child later moved to England, so how could her spirit still linger in this house?
I took out my phone to take a picture for later, maybe to show Bing when we meet again, unless he manages to break the loop and escape first.
In the evening, after exhausting my research, I drove back to the Western-style House. I parked the car in the lot before walking across the lawn towards the house ahead. It seemed that no one had returned yet since the doors and windows were tightly shut.
At this moment, the Western-style House looked peaceful and serene. There was no hint of the eerie mystery like yesterday; behind the house stretched a vast, vibrant green field that reached to the overlapping mountain ranges, with the evening sun shining through the clouds. I hesitated for a few seconds before deciding not to enter the house just yet. I walked around the side of the house, heading towards the wide field at the back.
The air was excellent now, with a cool breeze that seemed to seep into the skin. I walked through the knee-high grass, reaching out to touch the swaying blades that rippled with the wind. I took a deep breath, walking leisurely, relaxed, towards one end of the field. I saw a large, prominent tree standing alone with its branches spread out.
Not far from there, on the other side, there was a small cottage. I remembered seeing it from the upstairs window before; it was a small, compact cottage, ideal for temporary shelter from the sun or rain, not for permanent residence. I weighed whether to continue forward or explore over there.
But then, suddenly, I stopped.
A strange feeling emerged, rising from inside my chest, spreading rapidly throughout my body, urgently warning me of something. I stood trembling, staring ahead with fear and resistance, not understanding what it was, but I wouldn’t go any further. I stepped back and shook my head. I had to flee right now!
I turned around immediately, only to stand there with my mouth open in astonishment.
Gone were the bright green fields under the gentle sunlight; the previous atmosphere vanished as if cut off abruptly. The sky now was dark, heavy clouds of gray amassed above, creating a sullen, oppressive ambiance that made it hard to move.
I stood in the middle of the vast field, feeling surrounded by danger. I turned my gaze towards the Western-style House; it looked dark and unwelcoming, mirroring the surrounding mood. There was a sense of rejection even though it was lifeless.
And then, the gentle breeze transformed, turning into a strong gust that whipped the grass into a frenzy as if uprooting everything. My heart raced when I saw the direction of the wind coming towards me, the grass swaying in waves rapidly approaching. There was no time for contemplation. I turned towards the hut, running towards it without a second thought. I raised my arms to shield my face, as bits of grass lashed against my skin, the sound of the sky roared, and drops of rain began to fall, cold as if slicing through my skin.
I dashed into the hut and immediately shut the door, securing the latch with trembling hands before retreating to a corner. The wind howled outside, sounding like the screams of ghosts. I covered my ears, too scared to do anything but sit there, but after a while, the wind died down, leaving only the sound of the pounding rain.
I sat there, hugging myself, my heart pounding with fear. What was this? What was happening to me?
The rain continued outside, punctuated by occasional flashes of lightning. My eyes adjusted to the darkness within the hut, where there was nothing, not even a chair. I tried to take deep breaths to calm myself down. I would wait here until the rain stopped.
...Drip
The sound of water dripping near where I was sitting; it must have been rainwater seeping through a leak in the roof. I stayed put, not wanting to move.
Drip
This time, a drop of water hit my forehead, sliding down over my eye. I wiped it away with my hand, another drop fell, I moved back slightly while wiping the rain off my face with the back of my hand, but then I felt something was off. Rainwater shouldn’t feel this thick and warm, it felt like the sensation of a blade cutting. A chill ran through my chest with terror. I jumped up, ran to the door, and threw it open with force.
Outside, the rain was pouring, but I was too scared to stay inside even for a second longer. I stepped out, running as fast as I could through the rain, heading straight for the Western-style House.
When I ran to the house area, the rain had subsided. I slowed down, the rainwater seeping through my clothes, chilling my skin. I looked up, through the light curtain of rain towards the second floor of the house, and then I stopped abruptly.
...He was there, the man from my dream, standing by the window upstairs, looking down.
I stared in disbelief, knowing this wasn’t a dream. He leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, looking at me with an expression devoid of any joy or malice. But when he saw me staring at him intently, a slight smile touched the corner of his lips.
My face went numb as if I’d been slapped...Did that mean it was his doing? Was he the one creating these images to threaten and haunt me?
Anger surged through me. Did he know that I had never been this scared in my life? What did he want from me?! The frustration and desperation were driving me to the brink of madness. I strode into the house, my footsteps leaving wet marks on the wooden floor as I ascended the stairs, but before I even reached the top...
I found him.
The man was standing in the lounge area, near a half-moon shaped wooden table against the wall, pouring dark red liquid from a cut crystal decanter into a glass. On the table, there was a low flower vase and brass candlesticks; the candlelight reflected shadows across the piano’s surface. He was dressed in dark trousers, a well-tailored white shirt neatly tucked in, and a white scarf neatly folded at his collar. He looked as handsome as a prince from a fairy tale.
Fear.
Soaked to the skin, I stood at the last step, looking at him through the drops of water running down my face from my hair, my body still shivering with cold. I stared at him, my anger mixed with...
“Why are you doing this?” I said in a low, throaty voice, “What have I done to you? Why don’t you go where you belong? Why haunt me? Go where you want!”
He didn’t even turn to face me. He just spoke in a flat tone, “I like it here. You are the one disturbing me, and don’t dare to accuse me with your own foolishness.”
The clock chimed, echoing through the room, the atmosphere around me feeling dreamlike, but I knew it wasn’t. I clenched my jaw, tears welling up, only now realizing how intensely a ghost could affect someone, to the point of losing sanity or running towards death.
“What do you want?” I voiced out, trembling with emotion.
“Shh...” He touched his finger to his lips in a gesture of silence before raising the glass to drink.
I stood there, staring at him like the fool he had accused me of being. He set down his glass and walked slowly through the doorway to the balcony, the sky now the deep blue of night.
He glanced back at me, “Come closer to me.”
I looked at him in confusion, feeling the danger he posed, yet within that danger was a challenging pull. I stepped slowly towards him.
He leaned against the balcony railing, “Are you afraid of me...that’s amusing.”
I didn’t respond, but stopped at a reasonable distance. He turned to face me, and we stood confronting each other under the moonlight, our eyes locked as if measuring each other...I was afraid, but I didn’t want him to know that my courage at that moment was driven by fear to the point of madness.
“What were you struggling with just now?” He asked.
His question made me clench my fists, and a single tear rolled down my cheek. Was he mocking me? Did he enjoy creating that chaos and then watch me struggle to escape from it?
He sighed softly, “Don’t be so emotional. I’m not mocking you, I’m trying to help. Who are you?”
His counter-question confused me. I answered without thinking, “I...I’m Khen.”
His face showed a hint of surprise, “Khen...I see. What do you see there?”
I followed his pointing finger upwards. The moon tonight was full, round, and bright, as if it was within arm’s reach, “I see the moon.”
“Yes...the moon. My name is Mas.” He looked into my eyes, “Matthew or Mas Coleridge. Both your name and mine mean the moon.”
My eyes widened, my heart pounding with what he had just revealed.
He gave a slight smile and stepped closer, his smile captivating, and seeing him this close, I was sure he was about my age, just seemed older and more composed. His features were sharp like a foreigner’s, yet his Thai was clear. I stared at him as if hypnotized.
“But you should know one truth.” His voice was low and reassuring, “Our world has only one moon, there can’t be two.”
Without warning, he extended both hands towards my chest and pushed. If only I had been more cautious, not so complacent, I might have just stumbled. Instead, I fell backward, completely thrown off balance.
“AAHHH!!!”
I opened my mouth to scream, reaching out to grab something as my body plummeted down to the floor below!
I hit the ground with a thud; it hurt less than I expected, but it was still painful and dizzying enough to make it hard to open my eyes. I groaned, and then I heard a voice calling out:
“Phii Khen!”
That was Bing’s voice.
I forced my eyes open amidst the pain and turned to look. I found myself lying on the landing between the lower and upper floors, surrounded by friends who were looking at me with expressions of shock and concern.
“How did you fall down the stairs? Did you faint or miss a step?” Bing supported me.
I blinked...Fell down the stairs? Where from? I gritted my teeth and forced myself to sit up, then grabbed Bing’s wrist tightly.
He looked at me in surprise, “Phii Khen...”
“Bing, this house isn’t just haunted by the woman in that lower room. There’s another one.”
Everyone stared at me in astonishment. I forced the words through clenched teeth, “Matthew or Mas Coleridge, the owner’s son - his spirit is still here.”
Chapter 6: In the Dream Where I’m Still Awake
Bing’s eyes widened, “...Are you sure?”
“More than sure.” I looked around at everyone, “It’s not a dream. This house is haunted. Even though the company told us there was no murder or death here, it’s a lie. Something has been covered up, and those spirits won’t rest.”
I recounted what had happened, each moment increasing the sense of dread. By the time I finished, everyone looked pale. No one doubted me; everything we had experienced together had convinced everyone of the unsettling reality around us.
“It’s too scary.” Phii Namwa said, trembling, “What does he want, why did he do that to you, Khen?”
I shook my head, “I don’t know.”
“If you see him again, will he kill you?” she asked.
I stood there stunned, everyone looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Phii Teo punched the wall and shouted, “Why do I have to be stuck in this haunted house!”
Phii Teo’s words reminded me of something. I looked at them, “And why is everyone still here? Can’t anyone get out?”
Phii Thaen, with a tense expression, said, “No.”
Seeing my shock, Phii Thaen continued, “Namwa and I went out together, took the bus to Tha Phae Gate. We planned to catch another bus to the bus terminal from there, but when we got off at Tha Phae...”
Phii Thaen’s voice trailed off, his lips tightly pressed as if he couldn’t bear to continue.
“And then we forgot.” Phii Namwa added, tears welling up in her eyes, “We got off to walk around, take photos, have coffee, like we were just out for a casual outing. Everyone else too.”
I was stunned, looking around at the others in disbelief, but their looks confirmed what Phii Namwa had said.
“Yes, everyone forgot.” Phii Teo said firmly, “At some point, everyone forgot what they intended to do outside. I went to the market instead, tried to find a way out further but stopped for food, and then I came back here and only remembered when I stepped into this house.”
We fell silent, with one clear feeling prevailing:
...we were trapped, completely and with no escape.
“But I have another concern.” Bing spoke up, “Why is it that now only Phii Khen sees the ghosts, being haunted both by the female ghost in the room and the homeowner’s son, but I, who am supposed to be sensitive to these things, haven’t experienced anything like what Khen has?”
We looked at each other.
“Yeah...why is that?” Phii Namwa said, “ Khen never had any special sensitivity to these things before.”
Bing looked at me with a less than pleased expression, “I think Phii Khen...you should try not to be alone.”
“What do you mean by that?” Phii Teo asked.
Bing sighed deeply, “Have you all heard of ‘the one who sees those who died becomes the next target’?”
“Hey!” everyone else exclaimed.
I felt a chill. As Phii Thaen quickly said, “You mean like what we’ve heard in ghost stories, where someone moves into an apartment or boarding house with a history of suicides and starts seeing visions of people jumping from windows, even though the room is on one of the upper floors, and then one day, they jump out of the window themselves?”
“Thaen!” Phii Namwa’s voice trembled, “Stop it.”
“Do you mean it’s targeting Khen now?” Phii Teo looked alarmed.
Bing shook his head, looking troubled, “No one knows, bro, but right now, I’m worried about Phii Khen. I don’t want him going off alone.”
Based on this assumption, we decided to stick together. We wouldn’t go off alone unnecessarily, especially me, who seemed to be the current target.
“What about the rest of us, then? What will it do to us?” I overheard Phii Teo whispering to Bing by the door as I walked into the bedroom.
Bing whispered back, “I don’t know.”
“Or maybe it...will get us one by one.”
“Phii Teo! If you don’t have anything good to say, you don’t have to say anything.”
Bing walked into the room, closing the door behind him. Seeing me sitting on the bed looking at him, Bing came over and sat beside me, “Phii Khen, don’t overthink it. I don’t want you to lose your mind. Just stay alert and be cautious.”
“Hmm, I don’t want to be the first and then have you as the next.”
“That’s not funny, Phii.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny either.”
That night, I shared a bed with Bing. He stayed close to me like a guardian watching over a sick child, hoping we wouldn’t be bothered by spirits again.
But it wasn’t that simple.
After Bing fell asleep, I was still restless, tossing and turning in bed, trying to close my eyes but to no avail. What I had encountered was too much, too overwhelming to dismiss from my mind. I kept thinking about it over and over, despite telling myself to stop, but I couldn’t. It was like walking in circles in a confined space with no exit, yet still, I felt as if I was on the brink of madness.
Hours passed in this torment, and finally, my body gave in to exhaustion. I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up again, I heard the sound of rain. I turned to look at Bing, who was still fast asleep beside me. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or really awake; it was quite strange because you don’t usually question that when you’re dreaming. I got up to close the window to keep the rain from splashing into the room. When the window was shut, the sound of the rain lessened, but it made other sounds more distinct.
That sound was loud and resonant, a stirring melody that oscillated between excitement and tension. I turned towards the door; the sound was coming from outside. I walked towards it and opened the door.
As the door swung open, it was like stepping into another world. The flickering yellow light from candles danced on the walls, the music reverberating as if played inside my head. I stepped out and looked towards the lounge.
Amidst the candlelight, there stood a piano on a blood-red carpet. That man, Matthew, Mas, Coleridge, was playing the piano, his arms and hands moving fluidly, full of emotion.
Soon, the music stopped. He turned towards me, his expression blank, as if speaking to the void.
“A coward one dies many times before his death; the valiant one never tastes death but once.”
I looked at him, not understanding.
His eyes gleamed more intensely, both fierce and mocking, “I mean you, Khen.”
I jolted awake, my eyes snapping open.
Bing was still lying next to me, his soft snoring indicating he was still sound asleep. I touched my chest, feeling my heart pounding, sweat beading on my back. I sat up, staring at the closed door, fear still gripping every part of me.
Outside, it was eerily silent. There was no sign of any movement or other sounds.
I lifted my hand to cover my face, feeling so suffocated and frustrated it felt like my body might shatter. If this continues, will I end up killing myself? Being tormented in this psychological warfare where I’m the prey being chased, even in my dreams, is absolutely terrible.
No more...
I won’t stay like this.
The next morning. We all woke up and went downstairs for breakfast at the usual spot by the lawn. Each person seemed listless, moving reluctantly, their conversations empty, just speaking for the sake of breaking the silence. After breakfast, Phii Thaen instructed Phii Teo and Bing to help prepare something.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“Just taking some photos, since the weather’s good today.” Phii Teo answered.
“Uh...didn’t we finish the work already?”
“And what else is there to do?” Phii Teo looked quite bored, “This is better than sitting in a room stressing out. Thinking too much might drive us all mad to the point of running headfirst into walls to die. Better to keep busy so we don’t overthink.”
“Khen, you too, haven’t you finished your work?” Phii Namwa chimed in, “Finish it then, but don’t go outside, just stay around here where we can all see you.”
Even though I felt this was absurd, why would we work on something we’ve already completed? I didn’t want to object, so I just went along with it.
After a while, I brought my laptop and sat down to work on the porch at the front of the house, from where you could see a wide view of the lawn. Phii Thaen and the others were busy in the middle of the field, taking pictures of the whole property.
I sat there, clicking around on my laptop without actually working. Who could be creative while being targeted by a ghost? Even though my friends told me to avoid being alone, I didn’t think running away was the solution, at least not in this case. Otherwise, we would have escaped this long ago, not stuck in this loop.
After pretending to work for a while, I stood up and called out to my friends who were busy at one corner of the front staircase:
“I’m just going to the bathroom, be right back.” I said.
Bing shouted back, covering his mouth, “Use the bathroom on that side, don’t go to the...um...that area.”
Which area? The room with the female ghost or every spot where I encountered the spirit of the homeowner’s son, better not to say. If the spirits can haunt you even in dreams, standing outside to pee wouldn’t be safe either.
I gave an OK sign, before stepping inside. As I reached the entrance hall, I hesitated, glancing towards the last room on the right wing of the ground floor, but ultimately decided to leave it for later. I took a deep breath before stepping resolutely up the stairs to the upper floor.
My goal was the off-limits area on the right wing upstairs, the homeowner’s bedroom where some original furniture still remained.
I wasn’t looking to test things, never wanted to delve into these matters, but I needed to investigate something for my own sake. Standing idly waiting to be messed with was no different from committing suicide. I didn’t know what the ghosts in this house wanted, but I needed something to hold onto for some advantage. Maybe I’d find evidence, a clue, traces, or items that could give me answers.
I stepped up, paused at the lounge, turned towards that side, and stared down the hallway lined with rooms. The atmosphere there seemed oppressive with an ancient, mystical vibe embedded in everything, wide teak floorboards, intricate carvings on the air vents above the doors as if hiding mysteries behind every door.
Don’t waste time hesitating. I told myself before heading straight to the homeowner’s room, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
This room was particularly spacious, every piece of furniture original to the house from the beginning. It looked ancient and valuable, with a four-poster bed facing east, a dressing table, and a large wooden wardrobe. One wall had a door leading to another room deeper inside. I ducked under the rope barrier to enter that room.
I stood there in the cramped room, there was nothing but an iron ring embedded in the floor. I swallowed, staring at it, wondering what it was used to chain. Surely not for chaining people, right?
But before my mind could wander further, I realized it was an iron ring used to secure chests or valuable items. This room was an inner chamber you’d access through the owner’s bedroom, a forbidden space for storing important things. I walked back to the bedroom, scanned around, and thought I should search both the wardrobe and the bed.
Time passed with me searching through everything. I opened every drawer, even looked under the bed, hoping to find something useful for my situation, or better yet, something that could be a weakness for that man, perhaps an item his spirit was attached to. If I destroyed it, I could destroy his spirit along with it...Well, that was the kind of wild thought I had.
In the end, I had to admit that I was grasping at straws; there was nothing here that seemed useful to me. I stepped out of the room in disappointment, thinking I might need to change my plan and search the rooms downstairs instead.
But then, just as I was about to change direction towards the stairs, my eyes caught something standing prominently on the carpet in the middle of the room, ancient and beautifully valuable.
His piano.
My heart pounded as I approached it. This piano was imported into Thailand during the reign of King Rama V, it had a different shape from what is commonly used nowadays, with a tall back part behind the keyboard to store the strings, rising above the keys to about the height of the player’s head, with candelabras attached on both the left and right sides in front, providing light for the music sheets while playing.
I stood staring with excitement, certain that he must have loved this piano dearly. Almost every time I saw him, he was playing the piano. Perhaps his spirit is attached to this instrument.
I moved closer, hesitantly running my hand over the cover. As I thought of methods, what if I threatened to destroy this piano if he didn’t let us go? How would he react? Would he be so angry as to strangle me before I could finish speaking, or should I not threaten, but just destroy it? Perhaps burn it to ashes, hoping his spirit would burn away too.
This thought made my palms sweat. I wiped them on my pants before slowly lifting the piano lid. I remembered this piano had another special feature; the music stand was hidden and had to be unfolded after opening the lid.
But then my gaze shifted to something hidden beside the keys. I flipped it open to look inside.
A music notebook...?
No, it wasn’t, because it was too small to be a music notebook. I reached to pick it up; it was a thick diary, about A5 size, covered in plain brown leather with no lettering.
My eyes widened immediately; on the first page on the right, there were initials written - M.M. Coleridge. My heart skipped a beat; I guessed right away these were his initials, Matthew Mas Coleridge. This diary definitely belonged to him.
I flipped to the next page, and a sheet of paper fell out. Picking it up, I found it was a black and white photograph of a foreign man standing on the porch of a quaint English-style house. Upon closer inspection, I realized the man in the photo was Thomas, looking younger than in the picture I had seen in the library book. This photo must have been taken before he traveled to Thailand.
I turned my gaze back to the notebook page; it was written in a format resembling a daily journal, dated in the year 1914, entirely in English, with handwriting that was somewhat slanted but legible. I moved my eyes along each line with interest, reading:
‘Today is the first day since Father left for the war.
Mother, my aunts, the siblings, and even the servants in the house have all fallen silent, which has made me feel gloomy too.
But as the head of the family now, I cannot afford to grieve like the others.’
He stopped writing there. I flipped through the subsequent pages, finding them all blank. There were no further entries. The photograph had fallen from this notebook, as if it was something he wanted to keep close. I looked at the faded photo in my hand, the first time something had struck me in a way I hadn’t considered before. Up until now, I had only thought from my own perspective, driven by fear and panic, but I never considered how it might be from his point of view.
What must it feel like, looking after an entire household while the father is off at war, not knowing if he’s alive or dead, or if there will ever be a reunion?
Suddenly, my heart softened. He kept this photo in his journal, showing he cared and missed his father deeply, all while having to act strong, being a support for the family. I wanted to know how old he was at that time. Did he live to hear any news from Thomas?
...Probably not.
Otherwise, why would his spirit still linger here? He might have died before receiving any news from his father.
From the initial overwhelming curiosity and frustration, now I felt a mix of pity. I thought of his sharp features and the charming mole beneath his eye...If only he knew the truth that his father didn’t die in the war, that he lived long enough to send for his wife and children to join him in England later, as I read in the book, perhaps he wouldn’t have become a spirit haunting this house.
I placed the photograph back where it was, gently closing the notebook, feeling it was something important to him, something I should keep safe rather than destroy. I looked around before tucking the notebook between my undershirt and the shirt I wore over it, feeling like a sneak thief, which, indeed, I was.
After properly closing the piano lid, I descended the stairs to the ground floor, weighing whether to show this notebook to Bing and the others or to keep it to myself for now, not to rush into telling anyone. For a moment, I felt guilty and ashamed for even considering burning his piano out of spite.
As I stepped down the last stair and walked through the lower hall, I felt something rolling across the floor from the corner of my eye.
Clink
It stopped just three steps away from my feet. I turned to look; it was a small, slender golden cone-shaped object, slightly curved at the tip. Intrigued, I stepped closer to pick it up.
It was a metal fingernail, the kind Thai folk dancers use for their performances.
A chill ran up my spine to my neck. I looked up and found myself in the hallway leading to the last room on the right wing of the house. I froze in terror when I saw a dark shadow moving behind the vent above the door.
Then, the door slowly creaked open, releasing a scent of flowers, while the sound of a flute wailed like someone in mourning. A woman stood behind the door. She was dressed in the traditional attire of a northern Thai woman, with a round-necked blouse, a shawl, and a striped sarong, her hair adorned with flowers, and her fingers fitted with gold nail guards like those used by traditional dancers.
Without waiting for her to step out, I turned and ran!
The distance should have taken me to the front of the house in mere seconds, but instead, it seemed to stretch infinitely! It was as if the wooden floor beneath me was sliding backward towards that room, with something slithering after me. I didn’t dare look back, just focused on running for my life!
“Aah!”
I screamed when something slimy and foul-smelling caught my leg, dragging me down to the floor with a thud.
“Help!”
I shouted in panic as the mud began to crawl up my body, pulling me across the floor. My heart nearly stopped as I was being sucked into a mire. I desperately reached out with both hands, trying to grasp the wooden floor, but the pull was too strong. One hand slipped, and I sank deeper. Suddenly, my vision shifted to a suffocating darkness.
I started to suffocate, the taste of mud in my mouth, the sound of insects buzzing. As roots began to wrap around me, the single hand I had clinging to the wood was weakening, unable to hold on any longer.
Bang!
The sound of a gunshot rang out from above, and my vision cleared once more. I found myself lying face down on the wooden floor of the hallway, my lower body still stuck in a mud pit. A tall young man stood just a few steps away from me. He was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and riding pants, one hand holding a long shotgun; he stood slightly spread-legged in a ready stance before raising the gun to his shoulder.
Bang!
Another shot rang out, and the sticky mud that was holding me broke away. I heard it sloshing back towards the room, the door slamming shut with a loud bang.
Now I was free, no longer bound by that disgusting mud. I looked up at the one who had saved me, and there he was, clear as day...it was him, the son of the homeowner!
But it seemed he had little interest in me. The tall figure turned his back and started to walk away. I reached out and grabbed his ankle immediately.
He turned around and spoke with a displeased tone, “What are you doing?”
“Don’t go yet...don’t leave me like this.” I said, my voice trembling, my heart still pounding from what had just happened.
He paused for a moment, then a slight smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth, “Do you think I helped you or Po Duangduan?”
I clenched my jaw tight, staring at his face. Whether my thoughts were right or wrong, he wanted me to be a sacrificial pawn, or he was just a wandering spirit. I had to make him understand.
Seeing that I wouldn’t let go of his leg, he crouched down and looked at me with a face half mocking, half pitying, “Seems like you’ve misunderstood. I’m not pleased to meet you, but I hate her more than I dislike meeting you, so don’t assume I’ve shown you any mercy to that extent.”
The word ‘hate’ he used for that woman sounded heavy, as if it was squeezed from his heart. I let go of his ankle, feeling a surge of fear.
But then another voice interrupted, sounding like an old woman speaking:
“Khun Mas, what’s happening, sir? Everyone upstairs is quite alarmed.”
My heart skipped a beat. Just dealing with him alone was almost overwhelming, now there’s an old ghost to deal with too!
Before I could panic any further, he grabbed my arm and pulled me up. He pushed open the nearest door with his strong hand, then pushed and dragged me into the room with him.
“Khun Mas.” He glared at me fiercely as if to keep me quiet before calling out through the slightly ajar door, “It was just an accidental shot, Auntie Uan. I was on my way to go horseback riding.”
“Oh, Buddha...Khun Mas, who goes riding in this dim light? And with a gun, no less. Please, be more considerate, sir. People will start talking.”
The voice sounded exasperated. Meanwhile, the one being scolded looked unconcerned.
“Isn’t it good that people know that even if Father isn’t here, I’m still protecting this house, looking after my mother and siblings? No thief would dare to come near.”
“Being a protector is fine.” The voice dragged on, “but please don’t shoot inside the house again, sir, for my sake, have pity on an old woman.”
“Are you going to keep scolding me like I’m still a child? Sister Dara is crying loudly now. If you don’t hurry up, Mother will scold you too.”
“Who would dare scold Khun Mas? I will go now.”
Footsteps ascended the stairs. He moved away, speaking with an annoyed tone, “You’re too much trouble.”
I stood there, somewhat intimidated, looking at him with a mix of fear and courage, “I didn’t want to cause trouble, but I want to know what you want from me.”
He stared at me intensely, his eyes as if piercing through to my heart.
I suppressed the turmoil inside and continued, “Please don’t do anything to me. I beg you. I believe you’re not a cruel person, and I’ve never meant any disrespect. I came here with good intentions, respecting this place. I just want to do my job well. Everything I do is with good intentions.”
“Good intentions?” He said mockingly, “To me?”
“To you as well.” I managed to reply, my voice slightly trembling with fear, “If there’s anything I can do for you, to help you move on to a better place, to let your soul rest in peace, not to linger here like this. I’m willing to do it. I’ll even make merit and offer alms in your name for the rest of my life, and about...”
“Stop.” He raised a finger to silence me.
I stood still, my whole body tense. I didn’t dare to disobey him, but then he reached out his hand, touching my cheek with his finger.
I flinched, my eyes wide with surprise as I looked at him. That touch felt strange, like there was some kind of current flowing where our skins met, slow and rich like honey. We stared at each other in mutual astonishment.
He moved his hand, slowly tracing from my cheek down to my chin, where he paused as if still puzzled. Our eyes were locked, my heart beating wildly, a slight tingling where his touch was warm and electric, charged with some kind of energy. I had heard that ghosts were a form of energy, but his touch didn’t feel malevolent at all.
“You’re quite strange.” He murmured to himself before withdrawing his hand.
Though I didn’t quite understand, his unusual demeanor gave me the courage to ask, “You won’t hurt me anymore, right? I don’t want you to.”
He didn’t reply, instead, his gaze lowered to my torso. I followed his look and turned pale when I saw that the notebook I had secretly taken was peeking out from my shirt.
“My notebook.” His expression changed abruptly. He seemed to struggle with his patience, clenching his jaw, “Put it back where you found it.”
After giving the order, he stepped out of the room, leaving me standing there alone.
I just stood there, watching him walk away until he was out of sight, not daring to follow, afraid but also embarrassed at being caught. I hadn’t even had the chance to tell him something important.
Then suddenly, I recalled his earlier words:
‘A coward one dies many times before his death; the valiant one never tastes death but once.’
Before, I thought it was a threat, as if he would relentlessly haunt me until I couldn’t bear it and chose death myself, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I felt like I had heard something similar before.
Like a light bulb turning on in my mind, I stepped out quickly, back into the hallway of the present day. I hurried to the side porch where I had left my laptop. I sat down and quickly searched for information, and then I found...
It was a quote from Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare.
I took a deep breath, trying to analyze the situation. The context in which the character spoke was interpreted differently from what I initially thought. He wasn’t trying to threaten me; rather, he was urging me to be brave, brave to face what? Him? Or perhaps the mysterious woman from that room?
This question I couldn’t answer by myself. I turned my gaze to the notebook on the table, my mind still in turmoil with strange feelings, determined to meet him again.
That night, after we had gone through our daily routine in this bizarre loop without any attempt to escape, everything seemed to be going smoothly until we were about to go to bed.
We were gathered in Phii Thaen and Phii Teo’s room. Bing was sitting on Phii Teo’s bed playing a game on his phone, while Phii Namwa was quietly discussing some content with Phii Thaen. I grabbed a can of sweet drink from the table, opened it, and stepped outside the room, pretending to head back to my own bedroom.
I walked slowly along the corridor, passing rooms with doors left ajar, heading towards the lounge area ahead. I continued until I reached the hall where the piano stood, amidst the dim, eerie atmosphere. I glanced towards the front balcony.
The sky outside was a deep blue, the moon casting a soft glow, veiled by thin, beautiful yet mysterious clouds. Although I should have been fearful, my heart felt calm.
The instances where I’ve encountered spirits have happened both when I was awake and when I was dozing off, as if I might always be pulled into meeting someone from another world, depending on how the path is opened.
I stopped by the piano, pondering how to address him. Should I call him “Khun Mas.” like the old lady did, or should I use his full title, Matthew Mas Coleridge, which sounds so formal it might as well be for official correspondence. I took a deep breath and spoke out:
“Khun Mas, I want to meet you. Can we meet tonight? I have something important to tell you.”
I reached into my shirt pocket, pulling out a white sleeping pill. The breeze from the balcony door carried the scent of the forest. I put the pill in my mouth, drank some water, and swallowed it before saying:
“Don’t make me wait in vain, it would waste my sleeping pill.”
I returned to my bedroom, picked up a book to read on the bed while waiting. After a while, Bing came in. I yawned and told him I was sleepy and would go to sleep now. He could leave the bedside lamp on if he wanted; its light wouldn’t bother me. Then, I turned my back to Bing and lay down. In just a few minutes, I fell asleep.
I came in the cold again, the sound of light rain pattering outside the window. I opened my eyes to find myself alone in bed, with no sign of Bing beside me. I turned towards the door, which was ajar, almost invitingly. Though unintentional, I couldn’t help but smile with excitement.
The sound outside the door was that of a piano.