Whispers in the Attic: Chen Weiying's Haunting Melody

The old house at 28 Wenhua Road had been silent for decades, its walls covered in layers of dust and forgotten memories. Among the cobwebs and the remnants of the past, Chen Weiying, a curious and somewhat superstitious young woman, stumbled upon a forgotten gramophone, hidden away in the dusty attic. The attic, a place of eerie silence and forgotten things, had always felt like a different realm, a place where the past clung to the present with a haunting grip.

The gramophone was a relic of a bygone era, its wooden surface worn smooth by time, its brass gears tarnished and silent. Weiying's curiosity got the better of her, and with a careful hand, she lifted the heavy lid, revealing a collection of 78-rpm records. Her fingers brushed against the cover of an old, tattered album, and without thinking, she slipped it onto the gramophone.

The first note was a whisper, a soft, haunting melody that seemed to come from another world. Weiying's heart skipped a beat as the sound filled the room. The melody was beautiful, yet it carried with it a strange, unsettling quality, as if it were the voice of something long forgotten, speaking in a language only the dead understood.

As the record spun, the melody grew louder, more insistent. Weiying's eyes widened in shock as she felt a chill run down her spine. She could almost see shadows moving in the corners of the room, dancing to the rhythm of the melody. The gramophone had become a gateway to a world she didn't want to enter, but couldn't escape.

Suddenly, the melody changed. It became faster, more frantic, and the room seemed to shake with the intensity of the sound. Weiying's heart pounded in her chest as she realized the gramophone was not just playing music; it was summoning something. She heard whispers, voices she couldn't quite make out, calling her name, urging her to follow.

Desperate to understand what was happening, Weiying reached for the gramophone, her fingers trembling as she tried to turn off the record. But the gramophone was possessed, and no amount of effort could stop the melody. She turned her head, her eyes catching a glimpse of the old mirror leaning against the wall. It was cracked and faded, but it seemed to be watching her, its eyes reflecting the terror in her own.

As the melody reached its climax, Weiying felt a presence in the room. She turned, her breath catching in her throat as she saw a ghostly figure standing in the doorway. It was a woman, her face twisted in a hideous grimace, her eyes filled with a malevolent anger. Weiying knew her instantly, it was her grandmother, who had died years ago in the very same house.

The ghostly figure stepped forward, its hands reaching out towards Weiying. She could feel the chill of the spirit's touch, and her heart began to race. She turned back to the gramophone, her mind racing to find a way to stop the melody. But it was too late. The woman's hands closed around her throat, and Weiying felt herself being pulled away.

The next thing Weiying knew, she was lying on the cold floor of the attic, gasping for breath. She looked around, the gramophone lying broken on the floor, the record shattered. The melody had stopped, but the echoes of the ghostly figure's whispering continued to ring in her ears.

Weiying knew she had to find a way to put the spirit to rest. She began to search the house for clues about her grandmother's past, hoping to uncover the reason behind the haunting. She discovered old letters, photographs, and a journal that detailed her grandmother's life and death. It was a tragic tale of love, betrayal, and unrequited passion.

Weiying learned that her grandmother had been a singer, her voice as beautiful as it was haunting. She had fallen in love with a man who was married to someone else, and in a fit of jealous rage, she had killed him. After her grandmother was caught and convicted, she had taken her own life, leaving behind a broken heart and a world of sorrow.

With this knowledge, Weiying realized that the melody was not just a haunting; it was a message, a plea for forgiveness. She gathered the letters and photographs and placed them on her grandmother's grave. As she spoke the words of forgiveness, the melody played once more, this time softer, more serene.

The last note lingered in the air, and Weiying felt a sense of peace wash over her. The ghostly figure of her grandmother appeared before her, her face no longer twisted in anger but filled with a gentle sadness. The spirit reached out and touched Weiying's cheek, and with a final whisper, she vanished.

The gramophone lay in pieces on the floor, and the house at 28 Wenhua Road seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Weiying knew that she had done what was right, that she had put her grandmother's spirit to rest. The old house was silent again, but the memories it held were now at peace.

As Weiying left the house, she couldn't help but wonder if the gramophone's melody had truly been the voice of the dead, or if it was just the echo of a long-forgotten love story. Either way, the haunting melody had left its mark on her, a reminder that the past is never truly gone, and sometimes, the dead need a final goodbye.