Night Roads: Never Look Back
"My grandfather dropped out of school when he was young. His family was poor, so he made a living by taking odd jobs for other people."
"One day, my grandfather went to a neighboring village to carry some goods. By the time he headed back, it was already dark. The mountain path wound this way and that, and there was hardly anyone around. He was frightened and quickened his pace, but the load on his back was so heavy that he couldn't move very fast."
"As he passed a bend along the mountainside, he suddenly heard footsteps behind him. It sounded as if someone had been following him the whole way."
"There was a saying in my grandfather's hometown: when walking at night, don't look around, and whatever you do, don't look back. So my grandfather didn't dare turn around. He could only trudge forward with his head down, the heavy basket on his back."
"But the faster he walked, the faster the footsteps followed. At night, the birds were silent, and leaves rustled in the woods. My grandfather's heart pounded like a drum, and cold sweat soaked his back. Just as the footsteps drew closer and closer, he suddenly saw a fork in the path ahead. He gathered all his strength and ran down the branch that led to the village."
"He'd thought this path would take him closer to where more people lived, and that whatever was following him wouldn't dare keep after him. But he hadn't expected the footsteps to follow him anyway. And not only that—someone reached out and patted him on the shoulder!"
"A chill seemed to seep from his shoulder down through his body. His head buzzed, and he froze, afraid to move. Then the person behind him spoke: