In the night, something was noticed flying on the rooftops of every house, generating noise. Screaming and whining started coming from wild beasts as it alarmed them. Just then, a creature in the form of a man—looking fierce and dangerous—descended into the village. I watched him closely through a small window and thought he had come to save us.

He dashed into a house with lightning speed, and immediately, I heard a child's scream. The mother could only weep. It emerged outside, licking its lip, its hand covered in blood.

Suddenly, five wild beasts appeared from the bush and engaged in a fierce fight with the creature. The creature fought back hard and conquered them all, then fled into the night with lightning speed.

This unpleasant event sent shockwaves through the villagers' hearts, as we realized we were going from the frying pan to the fire.

Mr. Parker (in signs): This is bad. We are still finding a solution on how to be free from this beast. 

Then, another creature resembling a man appeared, intent on harming us.

Mrs. Parker (in signs): I suggest we sleep in our house's underground, where I and other pregnant women give birth.

Mr. Parker (in signs): Excellent idea. I'll arrange it by tomorrow afternoon. (In which we later didn't do)

Me (in signs): That creature seems to be hunting for food. Unlike the beast, it's not drawn to noise.

Mr. Parker (in signs): You're right; let's go and sleep now.

That same night, my mum, accompanied by another woman, silently entered the house where the tragedy occurred. They consoled the woman as she wept silently, her tears mingling with blood. I felt profound pity for her, having lost her entire family.

She lost her husband to the beast when he selflessly protected her with his life. The tragedy unfolded when the woman accidentally dropped a cup. The beast appeared instantly, and the man stood before his wife, signaling her to remain quiet.

The beast devoured him, savagely consuming his flesh. It began by gouging out his eyes, chewing them like meat, then severed his hands, and finally tore his flesh apart with brutal force. The wife was left to witness the horrific scene, shivering in terror, cautious not to make a sound lest she become the next victim.

After the beast finished with her husband in just two minutes, it retreated into the bush.

Back to the present. Now, the woman has no family, left alone in this cruel world. She will surely face a lonely struggle.

My mom returned home to join us after consoling Mrs. Madison. We had lost our appetite, but my dad urged us to eat, using signs to remind us that not eating wouldn't bring back the little girl.

Reluctantly, we forced ourselves to eat. Afterward, my sister carefully packed the wooden dishes to avoid making noise and then washed them.

Our family gathered around the dining table, communicating in signs—a combination of body language and hand gestures. We relied on "The Signs Book," a resource every household possessed, to learn and master this silent language.

In the morning, people bustled about, quietly going about their daily business, mostly barefoot and making barely a sound. My sister sat in front of our house, enjoying the cool breeze.

I approached the dead beast, armed with my great-grandfather's sword, now mine. Examining the beast's body, I discovered blades covering it. The creature's victory over five such beasts still amazed me.

I quietly removed the blades, careful not to alert other beasts. Passersby, walking barefoot, inquired in signs about my intentions. I replied in signs that I planned to craft arrows.

I extracted 1,000 blades, but not without sustaining injuries due to their sharpness. Our village now numbers fewer than 40, devastated by the beast's relentless attacks.

Fortunately, our land remains fertile, providing food without need for cultivation. However, farming would be nearly impossible without attracting the beast.

I was crafting my bow when my dad signaled me to follow him north once I finished. I hastened my work, mindful of the need for silence. I attached wooden handles to 30% of the blades and stored the rest at home, as adding handles would make too much noise.

With my bow and arrow secured on my back, I signaled my dad that I am ready to leave with him. We headed north and soon spotted a distant waterfall. My dad signed that it was a sea.

I asked in signs why we couldn't escape by boat, and he replied that the sea led to an underground bridge inhabited by the dead. He promised to explain everything when we reached the waterfall.

Upon arrival, my dad spoke aloud, startling me. I urged him to be quiet, but he reassured me, speaking, "Don't be afraid."

"Ahhhhh!" Mr. Parker screamed, beaming with a smile.

"Daddy, you're shouting! Do you want the beast to come for us?" I exclaimed.

"No, they can't come," Mr. Parker replied, his voice still loud.

I couldn't help but notice the unusual volume, considering our usual underground whispers.

"I love your deep baritone, Daddy," I said.

"Same here, boy," he replied.

"So, what did you want to tell me about the underground bridge?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.