It all started this winter and will end this winter.

It's March, it's almost spring, and there is still not a single green grass in front of the stairs, and there is not a single butterfly in sight outside the window.

At the beginning, it cannot be denied that I was actually a little fearless, with the slogan of summoning ghosts flashing in my mind, knowing that the consequences were serious, I still showed my teeth and claws, and even with a bit of arrogance, I never thought that one day I would really bear the pain of repeated physical and mental decline.

Since the last time the master said that decisive words, after leaving, my parents refused to give up, we went to the provincial doctor again, and after the provincial doctor came back, my father went to the door of the master and begged several times, but the father still did not agree.

Everyone felt that my life had come to an end, that the people with whom I had relationships were sad, and that the people with whom I had quarrels no longer held grudges against me.

But come to think of it, people are dying, and what is there to forgive.

These days, I often have ringing in my ears, sometimes like beating a drum and beating gold, sometimes I want to gallop, when no one is around, I hold my head and curl up, rolling, and moaning helplessly.

When others came to see me, I kept my mouth closed, my eyes closed, and I pretended to be asleep.

I never say anything to anyone, as if there is nothing to be afraid of death.

I often saw the wind chimes hanging outside the window swaying, and I also saw the children flying kites from the hill behind the Goya Primary School to the sky, and these winds flew higher and higher, like an eagle, flying over the treetops, flying over the blue-black roof tiles; I felt that I was what it was, that I was going to be what it was, that life was the rope that bound me tightly.

Now, the rope that ties me is about to break!

I have seen too much death in other people's memories before, and the feeling of walking on the Huangquan Road is still fresh, so I am not too afraid of death, but I am instinctively afraid of that, the night is deeper, the wind blows the dead trees, the wilderness, a lonely grave, and the desert of thousands of miles of people.

In March of the Gregorian calendar, it happened to be the first month of the lunar calendar, and most of the schools opened, but I didn't sign up, and the crops that had been barren for a winter were also removed by the hard-working croppers in the first month.

After hoeing, everywhere began to get busy.

Everywhere, because the climate is different, the planting is also different, the southwest generation, people look at the local sunshine, they have to choose to plant bud rice or flower beans and soybeans, or both.

Therefore, it is often said that farmers cannot look forward to the New Year, and after the New Year, the hoe and plow rake are in front of them.

On this day, it is rare that I am in good spirits and want to go out for a walk, and my parents are quite happy. At the beginning of this year, because of my business, I spent a lot of money, and the land at home was not much taken care of, and the sunshine was not bad today, after going out of Goya Street, as long as ** minutes to walk to the stream at the foot of the locust tree, after the stream, there was a house not far away, there was a piece of land next to the house, which happened to be my family, and the grass in the field was not hoeed.

So I proposed, Ning Yu supported, my mother agreed, and my father made a decision, and we decided to go to the foot of the locust tree as a family, my father and mother hoeed the ground, and Ning Yu and I played.

Before going out, my mother asked me to wrap three layers inside and three layers outside, but because of this holiday, the whole person has lost a lot of weight, and my clothes are not bloated no matter how I wear them.

When walking on the road, although there are always people pointing at the back, probably saying how this girl is, why is she going to die, now come out to walk, see that this is really pitiful and distressing, etc., the words are not bad, it doesn't sound comfortable, but our speed is still deliberately slowed down a lot, mainly to take care of my footsteps.

Fortunately, it was much quieter when I got out of Goya Street, and my father began to tell stories from all over the place, some of which were fabricated, some of which he had heard, and some of which he had seen with his own eyes. He said, I looked around, there was grass and trees on the road, and there was a faint desolation.

From a distance, I saw the village on the opposite side of the house filled with smoke, and the houses were distributed along the foot of the half hillside, scattered and disordered, but also sparse and dense.

"Dad, why is the foot of the locust tree called the foot of the locust tree?"

Dad looked at me, I was surprised for the first time that his sideburns were a little silvery, and I suddenly felt sorry, my father's eyes were a little confused, but he still smiled on his lips, and said in a very steady tone: "What other reason, people in the past used to look at what the place was."

Now, you babies basically don't know.

In the early days, there was actually a big locust tree in the village, and it was a very large locust tree......"

Dad's words are spoken in many dialects, but they will be automatically translated into my ears and in my head.

It was an old tree, under the blue clouds, like a huge umbrella stretched out, and the umbrella surface was green and white. The green ones are locust leaves, tender and green; White is the acacia flower, white and white, every morning, there are always girls and boys who love to read under the tree, feel the sweet breeze in the heart, wisps of fragrance in the nose, for a while, even the sleeves, the pages are stained with a faint honey fragrance.

But later, it seems that something bad happened, some people said that the feng shui of the village is not good, and then they cut it down, afraid that it will happen again, and even the roots of the tree have spent a lot of effort to dig out a lot, and now they have made cement in the old place, and there is no more, and later, other trees gradually grow, and the shade of the tree has grown to the position of the big locust tree, occupying, and luxuriant.

It's like there's never been a big locust tree.

"It's a shame." I sincerely sigh, since ancient times, there have always been countless unbelievable legends of gods and ghosts in the world, among the four ghost trees, the locust tree is among the best, but in my father's story, I didn't feel the shadow of half of the ghost tree.

"Why the hell did you cut down the tree?" Ning Yu asked seriously, his two eyes flickering like little stars staring at his father...... As we spoke, we had already reached the stream.

This stream is the dividing line between Goya and the foot of the locust tree, this side of the stream belongs to Goya, the stream used to be the territory of the foot of the locust tree, the stream flows rapidly, where it hits the stones, it will bulge out a bag, and there will be white splashes of water where it protrudes along the shore.

The stream is very clear, not deep, you can clearly see the colorful pebbles inside, there is a small bridge next to it, only one meter wide, the stones are old, the stone cracks are full of thatched weeds, see the stitches like needles grow. The middle of the bridge is the same as the hazelnut bridge downstream of the old river, it is also a muddy ground, and in the middle of the road, there are finger-sized wildflowers growing out, some light purple, some pink white, and small pink butterflies flying against the road.

The downside is that the bridge is too small, and there are no inscriptions, so I don't know when the bridge was built, so I can't hide my curiosity.

I'm in good spirits, and if I used to, I might have been running and jumping on the bridge, but I can't jump now.

Because the bridge is narrow, as soon as I arrived at the bridge, my father picked up Ning Yu, and my mother reached out to pull me. My father walked forward, and my mother and I followed one after the other.

I'm the last.

The stream was rushing and the sound was crisp and loud, and it was so continuous that it shook my eardrums.

Suddenly, there was a crackling sound under the bridge, as if something was struggling in the water, and I looked at my parents, who were walking forward in complete peace.

At this moment, my empty hand was suddenly grabbed by a single hand, wet and hard, like a hand bone, not a living person......