The Rice Mill's Specter: Mi Li's Haunting Harvest

Sort:Midnight Murmurs | Time:2025-05-06 19:01:36 | View Nums:1

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the rice fields. The wind whispered through the tall stalks, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and the promise of a bountiful harvest. In the heart of the fields stood an old rice mill, its wooden walls weathered by time and its windows long since boarded up. It was a place of whispered legends and forgotten tales, a place where the living and the dead seemed to mingle in an unsettling dance.

Mi Li had always been a bright spot in the lives of the villagers. She was a young girl with a heart full of dreams, whose laughter filled the air like the rustle of leaves. But one fateful harvest, as she worked alongside her family, a tragic accident occurred. The mill's machinery, a relic of a bygone era, malfunctioned, and Mi Li was caught in its relentless grip. She was pulled in, and in a moment of horror, her life was snuffed out.

The villagers were in shock. They mourned the loss of the lively girl, and the rice mill became a place of sorrow and remembrance. But soon, whispers began to spread. The mill was haunted. Mi Li's spirit remained, trapped in the place of her death, unable to find peace.

Now, a group of friends, driven by curiosity and a desire to uncover the truth, decided to spend a night at the mill. They had heard the stories, the tales of cold drafts and eerie whispers, but they were determined to face their fears and unravel the mystery.

The group gathered at the entrance of the rice mill, its creaking door swinging open with a ominous sound. They stepped inside, the air thick with dust and the scent of old wood. The walls were adorned with faded posters of rice harvests, and cobwebs clung to the rafters like ghostly hands.

"Let's get this over with," said Li Wei, the leader of the group, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

They moved deeper into the mill, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the wooden floors. The air grew colder, and the whispers grew louder. They passed by the old machinery, its gears rusted and silent, and they reached the center of the mill, where a large table was set with bowls of rice, ready for the harvest.

"Look at this," said Xiao Mei, pointing at the table. "It's like someone set this up just for us."

The group exchanged nervous glances. They knew they were close to the heart of the mystery.

"Let's try to communicate with her," suggested Li Wei. "We can't just leave without trying to understand."

As they spoke, the whispers grew louder, and a cold breeze swept through the room. The table began to shake, and the bowls of rice clinked against each other. The group gasped, their hearts pounding in their chests.

"Mi Li, can you hear us?" Li Wei called out, his voice trembling.

A sudden chill enveloped them, and the room seemed to grow colder. The whispers grew louder, and the table began to spin. The group stumbled back, their eyes wide with fear.

"Who are you?" Xiao Mei demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

The table stopped spinning, and the whispers faded. The room was silent, save for the sound of their rapid breathing.

"Mi Li?" Li Wei repeated, his voice filled with hope.

A faint, ghostly voice echoed through the mill, barely audible. "Help me."

The group exchanged looks of shock and relief. They had made contact with Mi Li's spirit.

"Mi Li, we're here to help you," Li Wei said, his voice steady. "Tell us what happened."