The River's Corpse: The Dead's Final March

In the heart of the lush, verdant countryside, nestled between towering mountains and the whispering embrace of a mysterious river, lay the remote village of Liling. The villagers, few in number but close-knit in spirit, had long lived in harmony with the land, their days filled with the rhythm of nature and the gentle flow of the river that bordered their homes.

The river, known as the Ebon, had always been a source of both beauty and dread. It was said that the water held the soul of the ancient spirits that once roamed the land. Many had dismissed these tales as mere superstitions, but whispers of the river's dark secrets were whispered in the hushed tones of bedtime stories and whispered among the elders.

One crisp autumn evening, as the leaves began to turn a fiery red and the air grew cool, a man named Liang, a local fisherman, set out to mend his nets. The Ebon's surface was like glass, reflecting the last light of the day. As Liang worked, he felt an unsettling presence, as if the river itself were watching him with an ancient, knowing gaze.

That night, Liang's body was found floating in the Ebon, his eyes wide with terror, his mouth agape as if he had seen something that had scared him to death. The villagers were distraught, and the news spread like wildfire. The river's curse, it seemed, had claimed another victim.

The village elder, a stoic man named Master Chen, decided to investigate. He was a man who had seen many things in his long life and had always been able to decipher the mysteries of the Ebon. He called for a meeting with the villagers, and the night of the meeting was dark and foreboding.

As the villagers gathered in the village hall, Master Chen began to speak. "The Ebon is not just a river; it is a living entity, and it has a will of its own. It chooses its victims, and it has chosen Liang. But we must not fear, for we have the power to protect ourselves."

The villagers listened intently, their eyes wide with fear. Master Chen continued, "The Ebon is bound to the spirits of the dead. It is their final march, and they seek to claim those who have wronged them. We must find a way to appease them, or the curse will grow stronger."

The villagers were hesitant to believe, but the recent events had left them with no choice. They agreed to follow Master Chen's plan, which involved a series of rituals and offerings to the spirits. The village was draped in a thick fog of fear as the rituals began.

As the villagers worked, a haunting melody began to play in the distance, a tune that seemed to come from the very heart of the river. The villagers stopped what they were doing and listened, their hearts pounding with a mix of fear and curiosity.

The melody grew louder, more insistent, until it reached the very heart of the village. There, at the edge of the Ebon, the melody reached its crescendo, and the villagers saw a figure emerge from the water. It was a man, draped in a cloak of mist, his eyes glowing with an eerie light.

The villagers gasped, but Master Chen remained calm. "This is the spirit of the dead man, Liang. He has come to seek justice. We must show him respect and ask for forgiveness."

The villagers knelt in prayer, their voices rising in unison as they pleaded for Liang's soul to be at peace. The spirit listened, and as the last prayer was spoken, the figure began to fade, the melody fading with it.

The next morning, the villagers awoke to find that the Ebon had returned to its usual state, the water clear and the surface still. The river had spoken, and the curse had been lifted. The villagers breathed a collective sigh of relief, but they knew that the spirits of the dead would always watch over them, their final march never truly at an end.

As the years passed, the village of Liling thrived, its people living in a state of uneasy peace. The Ebon remained a source of beauty and mystery, and the villagers had learned to live with the knowledge that the dead walked among them, their final march ever present in the whispers of the wind and the murmurs of the river.

In the quiet of the night, when the villagers were asleep, the Ebon would sometimes sing its haunting melody once more, a reminder that the spirits of the dead were never truly gone, and that their final march would continue until the end of time.