The year was 1999 in Cai Lay Town. Although the rainy season had already started two weeks ago, the heat was still unbearable at noon. On a street, there was a sloppy, dated coach speeding as if there were no tomorrow. Inside, the coach was packed with smelly, sweat-covered passengers, shouting at each other whenever the driver made a turn. The atmosphere had turned sour as soon as everyone boarded the coach—everyone except for a little boy, Thien, sitting with his parents in the right corner at the back. His mind was still fuzzy from the early morning wake-up for this departure.

It was well past lunchtime. Thien’s belly rumbled like a drum, and all he could think about was food. Since his parents were busy arguing, he didn’t dare to bring up his hunger. Thien drank some water and closed his eyes, trying to sleep through it, but the smell of street food from other passengers kept him wide awake.

A cool breeze hit Thien’s face, causing him to open his eyes. He heard a collective sigh of relief, and even his parents had stopped arguing. Thien slid the window open and stuck his head out. The sun was gone, and the sky had turned gray. Far off in the direction the coach was heading, he saw an area covered by dark clouds. His parents hadn’t told him anything before they left, but now he could tell their destination was inside that ominous area. Unease crept into his chest.

They finally got off the coach, but they still weren’t at their destination. The rest of the journey was tricky. Thien and his parents had to cross an unstable wooden bridge riddled with holes and walk along a narrow, murky path lined with overhanging trees and a river to the left. Thien noticed that once they passed the bridge, it felt like they had entered another world. There were no people around, only animals—chickens, dogs, and occasionally ducks. The houses, or rather huts, were spaced far apart, separated by fences. Although it was getting dark, there was no light, not even a flicker from a candle.

Thien and his parents stopped in front of a large, new white gate—the only thing that looked new in the area. Unlike the gate, the house beyond it looked aged, with visible spider webs on the upper floors, as if no one had lived there for a long time. Thien looked around for a doorbell, eager to press it, but there wasn’t one. To his surprise, his father took out a key and unlocked the gate. Inside, there was a garden of mango trees on the right and a canal connecting to the river on the left. Far in the backyard stood a large wooden hut. Thien could see his adult relatives inside the house and his cousins playing soccer in the backyard. He hugged his belly and glanced at his parents, hoping for food. They didn’t seem to care; instead, they hurried inside and told him to go play with his cousins.

Thien didn’t want to join the soccer match—his cousins were much older, and he didn’t stand a chance. He was more interested in when the food would arrive. As he wandered near the door, he overheard the adults talking inside the house. They had gathered because his grandpa was in a deep coma, and they were discussing the inheritance. One by one, they presented reasons why they should get a bigger share. One of Thien’s uncles noticed him behind the door, dragged him outside to the garden, and closed the door behind him. Thien realized this conversation wasn’t something he or his cousins were supposed to hear.

Thien sat quietly under a mango tree, wishing for some mangoes to fill his stomach. He noticed his cousins eyeing him instead of the soccer ball, so he pretended to look the other way. Thunder rumbled, and rain began to fall. The children hurried to the backyard hut to avoid both the rain and the adults. Once inside, the eldest cousin, Khuong, turned on the lights and asked Thien what he had overheard. Although Thien didn’t fully understand the adults’ conversation, he knew enough to realize he shouldn’t share it with his cousins. But as his belly made a loud noise, the cousins tempted him with a sweet bun. Thien hesitated but eventually gave in, telling them about their grandpa’s coma and the inheritance.

Unexpectedly, the cousins cheered at the news that their grandpa was about to die—or, as they called him, “Mad Grandpa.” Thien was confused. Why were they so happy? He was their grandpa too. Khuong explained that since Thien rarely visited Cai Lay, he didn’t know how much grandpa hated them. Grandpa always chased them away when they came to his house. In Thien’s hazy memory, he recalled a grouchy grandpa who sometimes yelled at them or hit them with a cane. But Thien’s mother had told him that grandpa only acted that way because he was sick. Thien demanded that they stop disrespecting grandpa, insisting that, deep down, grandpa cared about them. Khuong shook his head, ruffled Thien’s hair, and with a pitying smile, called him a naive boy.

It was now completely dark outside, and the rain poured down non-stop, causing a small flood in the hut. Thien, who hated getting wet, jumped onto the table as the water level rose. However, the roof wasn’t waterproof, and rain dripped through onto the children below. Thien could no longer stand it and asked Khuong to help him back into the house. Khuong refused, insisting that they stay in the hut until the adults were finished with their discussion. The serious look in Khuong’s eyes made Thien stay put, raising his hands to cover his head from the rain.

Suddenly, a loud thunderclap echoed, followed by dogs howling in the distance. The children were startled, especially Thien, who had felt uneasy since they arrived. He had the creeping sensation that something was watching them from the canal—maybe someone was using the canal. That had to be it. Thien jerked his head toward the canal just as lightning flashed, revealing a shadowy figure lurking behind the canal wall. Its movements were not human. The figure disappeared with the next flash of lightning. It had moved.

Now terrified, Thien begged his cousins to walk him back to the house, his eyes welling with tears. Then, out of nowhere, the lights in the hut flickered off one by one.

Thien couldn’t wait any longer. He jumped down into the rising floodwaters. Since he was small, his legs were submerged, making it hard to move. His cousins shouted for him to stop, but he didn’t listen and ran through the heavy rain, heading toward the house’s light. Starving and exhausted, he soon ran out of energy but refused to give up. He kept moving, slowly. Along the way, he heard a faint whisper of “ma-da” behind him, as if someone was struggling for breath. As the voice grew closer, Thien panicked, tried to run faster, and then tripped. His head hit the ground hard, and everything went dark.