Thien woke up to the sound of chanting in a room filled with the heavy scent of incense. His head throbbed painfully, and he felt dizzy. The rain had stopped, but the wind howled against the closed windows. Inside, he saw someone lying in the middle of the room, his face covered by a small white cloth and their body hidden under a large white blanket. At the foot of the body was a table with an incense burner, filled with smoldering sticks.

Thien’s mother noticed he had woken up and came over, asking if he was alright. He nodded slightly, though his face was filled with confusion. First, his mother scolded him for his actions earlier, then she broke the news that his grandpa had passed away the day before, and that was why they were holding the ceremony.

Looking around, Thien saw the adults and his cousins standing in a circle around his grandpa. They were all silent, their eyes closed, and some were visibly shaking. Thien wondered if their trembling was because of their hatred for grandpa or if he wasn’t the only one who heard that strange whisper yesterday. He asked his mom why his cousins seemed to hate grandpa so much. She explained that it might be because grandpa used to turn them away from his house violently whenever they visited. She asked if Thien remembered anything from his previous visits. He replied that he was too young to recall much.

Thien then asked if his mom knew anything about the "ma-da." His mom’s face paled slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. She told him not to worry, saying that the "ma-da" was just a story grandpa made up to scare the kids. Thien wanted to know more, but his mom told him to rest. Still, he found it impossible to relax with the chanting going on around him.

Khuong opened a window to let in some air, as the room had grown unbearably hot. A strong breeze swept in, knocking down several incense sticks, so one of the aunts quickly closed the window again. Suddenly, a strange noise filled the room, like someone trying to speak while choking. The adults froze, looking at each other, realizing none of them were making the sound.

They all jumped back in shock when they saw the white blanket covering grandpa's face start to move, as if something alive was beneath it. Thien’s blood ran cold as he recognized the sound—it was the same faint whisper of “ma-da” he had heard in the rain, only this time it was louder and more distinct, like a wheezing hiss. The cousins panicked, screaming and trying to flee the house, but when they opened the door, the floodwaters surged in, knocking them to the ground.

Thien wanted to run, too, but his mother held him tightly, paralyzed with fear.

A second gust of wind blew into the room, this time knocking the white cloth off grandpa’s face, revealing his distorted features—his eyes bulging and his mouth stretched unnaturally wide, as if it were about to tear apart. His face twisted even more as the sound of "ma-da" grew sharper and more gut-wrenching—his eyes looked ready to pop out of his skull, and his upper and lower jaws were pulling away from each other.

The cousins, lying on the ground, couldn’t see the horrifying sight, but Thien, sitting on the nearby bed with his mother, saw everything. He tried to shut his eyes, but the image was seared into his memory, and the terrifying sound made it impossible to block out what was happening.

Thien couldn’t take it anymore. He burst into tears, screaming for help, but then he heard the door slam shut and everything went silent. Thien continued crying, but no sound came out. Shortly after, he grew dizzy and passed out.

Everyone remained trapped in grandpa’s house due to the flood, but Thien was too shaken to stay any longer. His parents arranged for a boat to take the family to safety. The cousins wanted to leave too, but their parents insisted on staying to finish the ceremony, hoping it would bring grandpa peace—or perhaps secure them a better share of the inheritance.

Thien woke up in a taxi on the way back to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City). He asked his parents to tell him more about the “ma-da” story. His mother looked at his father, who gave her a nod.

"Years ago, there was an accident on the river near the house during the flood season," his mother began, her eyes filled with doubt.

"Don’t worry, Mom. I really want to know."

"Two boats collided in the middle of the river—your grandpa was on one of them," she said slowly. "He was with one of your uncles, who was 15 at the time."

"Did something happen to him?" Thien asked nervously. His mother paused for a moment before continuing.

"Everyone survived except for your uncle. Grandpa said he tried to save him, but something was pulling him down. He lost him... and called that something ‘ma-da.’" She wiped away her tears. "No one believed him, including me. We thought he was just making an excuse for being careless."

"Are you okay, Mom? I can finish the story," his father offered, giving her a gentle tap on the shoulder. She shook her head and kept going.

"Three days later, your uncle’s body was found floating in the canal near the house. Grandpa was devastated. He became sick afterward and kept shouting about 'ma-da,' warning everyone to stay away from the canal." She looked straight at Thien. "Don’t you remember? Grandpa saved you when you were little."

"I can’t... maybe just a little," Thien replied.

"You fell into the canal when you were younger, but you made no sound, so no one noticed—except for grandpa. He shouted and ran out to the canal to pull you out. The water was calm, so I didn’t think anyone had fallen in, but grandpa knew."

Thien wanted to ask what "ma-da" really was, but a vivid memory of something cold, like a hand pulling him under, flashed through his mind. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but it was too overwhelming to ask about it now.

"Mom, I think that's enough for today. I’m feeling sleepy."

A week later, Thien gathered the courage to research "ma-da" in the library. After searching through countless books, he finally came across an old lady reading about ghosts. When he asked her about "ma-da," she silently handed him her book and left.

The book contained only one mention of "ma-da." It explained that "ma-da" was the spirit of a drowned person, stuck at the bottom of a river, unable to cross over. Some believed it could only escape by pulling someone else down to switch places. Others thought "ma-da" simply enjoyed drowning people. Survivors claimed to have seen a cold, green, slimy hand or a face dragging them under. Some even said "ma-da" looked like a child. The article concluded with a stern warning:

“Beware of ‘ma-da.’ Do not swim near abandoned rivers or lakes if you suddenly feel hot. It might be lurking.”

Thien was sure now that what he saw in the canal was "ma-da." With grandpa gone, he wondered who its next victim might be. He didn’t know how to warn his cousins and didn’t want to return to Cai Lay. He sent them letters with a copy of the article but received no replies.

A year later, Khuong’s family inherited grandpa’s house. Khuong went missing after just one day of living there. He was never found. Though the authorities never declared his death, five years later, his parents held a funeral without a body to ensure his soul would rest in peace.