AN UNJUST SOUL BY THE RIVERBANK
The night gradually turned to morning, the sky was breezy, the cool river breeze blew into the rustling trees along the shore. The river surface was full of water, clusters of water hyacinths floated down, the dying moonlight was dim on each leaf. Kha swam slowly to the river's edge, the small boat rocking with every move he made to throw his net. Somewhere in the neighborhood there was a rooster crowing. Kha put his net into the boat and sighed. He went fishing all night but didn't earn much. He had to return early in time for his mother to sell the fish at the morning market. Swimming quickly, the boat swerved into the riverbank, where there were luxuriant trees, waving its hands at the branches and leaves that threatened to hit its face, when it suddenly heard a whisper a few steps away from it. Suddenly, it was creepy, remembering the ghost story at this banyan tree that old people often told, that ghosts often appeared late at night, when the riverbank was deserted. The whisper still echoed, Kha turned around, chills ran down his spine, his arms and legs trembled, glimpsed through the canopy of leaves, under an old banyan tree with roots hanging like human hair was a white shadow. That white shadow slowly turned back to Kha. It panicked and ran away, its legs clinging to each other. It felt like something was following behind it, gliding through the rustling trees...