Be Careful what you Wish for

June 14, 2021.

This is the date of this years’ Dragon Boat festival according to the Gregorian Calendar.

I packed up my clothes and went straight to the airport to catch my flight to Beijing, China. Today, it’s June 10, 2021, 10:52 pm here in Seattle—I opened my laptop and started some entries in my calendar to indicate what I can do for the following days so I could prepare for my paper works.

As a journalist, I need to be on the actual country where the festival originated.

Where will I even begin to start writing about it?

“Good evening sir! Tea, coffee or champagne?”

“Just coffee.”

I could hear the streaming coffee being poured into the mug while I still work on my documents, the strong sweet smell from it made my eyes look away from my screen.

I grabbed the mug handle slowly and put my lips near it, blowing into the steam rising from it before I take a sip. I put my cup of coffee by the side of my laptop and begin searching the information about the Dragon boat festival.

My eyes scanned the basics of the festival, the dates of the previous festivals, the history of dragon boat festival-- commemoration of Qu yuan, a minister and poet in China who joined the dynasty to fight powerful states which led to his exile. He wrote heart-moving poems about his love for his country, leading the people to love him. His disappearance by the Milou river after writing his final poem for his motherland led the villagers to take their boats in hopes of saving him.

Qu Yuan killed himself?

I felt my brows twirl in curiosity. So, to commemorate his death, the act of taking the boats, to rush through the rivers, became the Dragon boat festival as time passed by.

I guess I’ll start by writing this then I am going to take pictures of the River. My finger clicked on the superstition about the festival, as I began reading it, a ridiculous smile formed in my face.

The fifth day of bad luck? What’s this, a parallel belief to Friday the 13^th?

I smirk, I read it continuously, seeing a plant, Calamus and worm woods hanged on doors to ward off bad spirits?

Do they still do this? Well, if it can add to my journal, I guess this will do. I don’t believe in myths and superstition, I even walked every night during Friday the 13^th’s to see if there is really something out there that’ll cause me harm or could kill me but –

Vhoila! Here I am still, walking the Earth, discovering factual things that never interest me anymore. Some fun facts in this world ain’t really fun and the ghost stories, supernatural, amongst other things never really existed. If they did, my life wouldn’t be this boring—still, after everything I’ve done, from ghost hauntings, documentary, research for supernatural demons and other bullshit—none.

Truth be told, I even tried the Ouija board and the mirror rituals, all I’ve seen in both is the curious me being stupid, whispering some words that I read from the media.

I laid my back flat on the airplane seat, melting my thoughts away, putting me into my sleep and when I woke up, I watched some movies, stretching my back’s aching muscles due to long hours of sitting, still have 8 more hours. Once I arrive there, it will be June 12 since China is 16 hours ahead than Seattle and the estimated flight is about 11 hours. After the movies, I drowsed off again.

The voice of the attendant woke me, saying that we have arrived at the destination. It’s already 10 am in China time, I get my bag and continued on my way.

Colorful flags and interesting designs covered the streets of Beijing. As my researched implied, calamus and other colorful stuffs hanged in their doors, most are even sold in the stores. I took some snaps from my camera—the stalls, the houses, the streets, the people, the dragon dances; it was an interesting tradition. I set off in a train to travel to Yueyang province, to where Qu yuan died.

When is my bad luck coming? There’s nothing.

I thought to myself as I gaze the outside from the dripping window. This is why I never believed in those things, I end up dismayed.

After 13 hours of sitting, I get my shoulder bag and get off the train. I went to the river, taking some pictures of the dragon boats arranged for the race tomorrow. They were of different design, different structures—some are larger and longer than the others, the others bearing dragon sculptures engraved on the sides of the boat.

A woman approached me, smiling as she points out the sceneries by the river. She was saying something in Chinese and I can’t understand any of her words.

“I. Am. Sorry. I. Don’t. Speak. Chinese. “

I tried to tell her slowly and she just nodded, continuing her babbling. I bowed and excused my self politely so I could leave, she handed me a colorful item covered in silk cloth, bowed down again and left. I held the gift up and took a shot on my phone for Alexa to find its purpose on the internet.

‘Used to ward off bad luck and evil spirits.’

This is nonsense.

I threw the silk pouch in the river and headed away to find a hotel to stay for the night. The wind howled harder to where I stand, filling my ear with the whistle of the wind.

“Let’s see what happens now. Let the bad luck come.”

I sniggered at the thought, shaking my head with scorn.

“Thank you, Mr. Paul. Enjoy your night.”

The lady greeted me with her English in Chinese accent. I nodded in return. I opened my hotel room and headed inside. The room was kind of dim, the color is just perfect for the night. The duvet is white along with the other blankets, beside it lies a brown nightstand. I put my things on the bed and headed through the glass wall. From the room, the lights flickering from the city lights up the dark night.

As I stare outside, I noticed something different in my reflection in the mirror. I looked at it thoroughly, leaning my face through the glass wall. A silhouette is standing behind my back, creeping  towards me.

For the first time, I felt chills swerving down my spine. My eyes wait for the creeping presence to get close, as my senses vibrated with every simple hint of movement. The sound of loitering footsteps grew louder with the sopping from the ground sound echoed through my ears. When the wet footsteps stopped behind me, I slowly turned around. My phone rang loudly, making me jump from where I was standing. The glass wall caught my falling body and my eyes were left wide.

I laughed.

I laughed loudly as my back rubbed in the glass wall as I weigh myself on it, steadily sitting on the floor.

This is the first time I felt frightened.

My laughs echoed through the room thinking how I got scared by my own phone ringing. After I calmed myself down from laughter, I went to wash myself and went straight to the bed.

I’m going to work on the writing tomorrow.

My body felt as if I am lacking oxygen. I was still in the middle of my sleep, but the heavy weight of something in my chest and stomach is preventing me from breathing. I opened my eyes in shock, seeing an old Chinese man drench in mud, with putrid body sitting on my stomach, staring at me.

I cannot move my body but my heart let the loud beats bang through my sternum, making me feel like its going to get crushed.

The man was growling in a deep voice and my ears were hurting. I cannot blink, I cannot breathe.

He suddenly vomit immense amount of green water in my face, never letting me inhale anything. I grasped for air, my eyes is covered by the stagnant liquid from his mouth, feeling like it will explode in any minute due to lack of oxygen in my brain.

He never stops—I felt as if I was dying.

I shouted—escaping from that something I don’t know, feeling my body sitting on my bed, my eyes opened and it was blurry, but lights penetrated through my cornea.

My body was covered with sweat, it was a nightmare. My breaths were heavy and my head was aching like hell. I sighed, stretched my back, relieved that it was only a nightmare.

It’s not true. Maybe I was just overthinking.

I feel very tired. As soon as I caught my breath, I went to shower, changing my sweaty clothes and head to the city to document the last day of the festival.

People are beaming, shouting and celebrating the festival with delight. I took some snapshots as I walk the glee streets of Yueyang. I smiled with them, while eating zongzi, a festive food from them which is just rice ball in a triangular shape.

I stopped by for a while as I scan my camera to see my stolen pictures.

I eyed my shots; the kid, the stalls, the boats. As I look at them over and over again, I can see some odd man standing in the corner.

All of the pictures contained an odd man with ancient clothing, apparently darker and really different.

What the hell?

I zoomed in the picture, for every click of the zoom increaser button, my body felt colder and colder. The pictured showed the old rancid man from my nightmare looking back at the camera. As I examine his features, the fright in my heart grew more when I heard his deep low snarls shuddering in my ear, my hands dropped the camera while my body was petrified, my throat hanging dry.

This is not real. This is not real. This is not real.

When the voice is gone, my body started to get back to senses, people were looking at me, I gathered a deep breath and smiled at them, picking up my broken camera.

Shit.

I walked, going back to my hotel to fix my camera.

I can’t finish my work in this case. FUCK!

A woman grabbed me by the arm, causing me to jump. She was wearing a robe, her hair was white and she was the woman who gave me the silk pouch.

“You have angered him! Now, he has put a curse upon you!”

Her high pitched voice strains through my eardrums.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You disrespected him! You have disrespected his tradition!”

I felt a sting in my heart, my feet and hands were freezing. I can feel my body quivering, I felt angry but I was scared.

She never talked to me in English before. How can she now?

“I have no time for this shit.”

I turned my back on the crazy woman as she shouts the same phrases over and over again.

“Death is coming for you! He will come for you! There is no forgiveness! There is none!”

“Fuck you lady! Fuck the tradition!”

I screamed at her. I don’t care if people are looking. I need to get out fast. I need to get out of here!

My heart were stampeding giant horses  about to blast through my chest. I ran through my room, my hands were shaking, freezing, I feel like there is someone watching me. It’s driving me insane!

As soon as I open the door to my hotel room. I rush through the table to gather my things.

While my body trembles, I ran back and forth to gather my things. I am getting out of here! As I was about to pick up my broken camera, an unknown heavy force hit my body causing me to launch through the glass wall, injuring my head in the impact.

I cannot see anything but cloud in my eyes. My body felt numb and I was laying tranquilized on the floor.

A black imagery tinted my clouded eyes, I felt like my body being dragged to I don't know where. I wanted to shout for help, I was crying.

I don’t want these anymore! Don’t do this to me. I didn’t mean to be the way I am!

My body felt small, inside a cubicle—Where am I? – I am crying for my life, pleading for this to stop, I heard water flowing and now slowly devouring my body. I am still paralyzed, I cannot move!

Help me! Help me!

I struggled as the water choked me, I was drowning. My tears dissolving on the water that kills, the waters cruelly filling my lungs.

Quote:

On June 14, Paul Gibberson’s body was found dead inside his hotel room. The investigations showed that he committed suicide by drowning himself while he submerged himself in the hotel’s bathroom tub. The only thing found in his room are his clothes, his phone and his laptop. From the interviews on his family, friends and workplace, they never knew anything that could make Paul kill himself. The case was closed after.