Paranormal Encounters Two Strange Stories from a Village Doctor

It was a chilly autumn evening in the year 1986. The moon was high in the sky, casting its pale glow over the deserted village. My grandfather, who was the only doctor in the village, had gone to a neighboring village to practice medicine. It was a long and tiring day, and he was looking forward to returning home and resting his weary bones. However, little did he know that he was about to experience something that would leave him shaken for the rest of his life.

As he was making his way back home, he had to pass by a desolate temple. It was an old, rundown temple that was said to be haunted. People in the village often avoided the temple, especially after dark. However, my grandfather, being a man of science, had never believed in such superstitions.

As he approached the temple, he felt a sudden chill run down his spine. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt as if he was being watched. Suddenly, everything went pitch black. It was as if someone had placed a blindfold over his eyes. He reached for his flashlight, but it was of no use. The darkness was too thick to penetrate.

He tried to feel his way through the darkness, but it was no use. It was as if he had been transported to another world, a world of darkness and despair. He stumbled and fell a couple of times, but he refused to give up. He knew that he had to reach home before something terrible happened.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he saw a glimmer of light in the distance. He breathed a sigh of relief and quickened his pace. As he got closer, he realized that the light was coming from his own house. He had made it home safely.

When he got inside, he told my grandmother about his eerie experience. She listened intently, nodding her head in understanding. She knew all too well about the legend of the “ghost covering eye.”

According to the legend, the “ghost covering eye” was a malevolent spirit that roamed the land at night, covering people’s eyes and leading them to dangerous places. It was said that the only way to escape its clutches was to stay put until dawn.

The next day, my grandfather went back to the temple to investigate. He found nothing out of the ordinary, except for an old grave in the middle of the nearby wasteland. It was an eerie sight, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.

Later that same year, a villager knocked on my grandfather’s door in the middle of the night. The man claimed that someone in his family had fallen ill and begged my grandfather to come and help.

At first, my grandfather was hesitant. He had never seen the man before and didn’t know if he could be trusted. But his conscience got the better of him, and he agreed to go with the man to his home, which was located in the west of the village.

As they walked through the deserted wasteland, my grandfather began to feel uneasy. It was as if he was being led into a trap. Suddenly, they arrived at a magnificent courtyard, brightly lit with lanterns and candles. It was a sight to behold, and my grandfather couldn’t help but wonder who lived in such a grand house.

Once inside, my grandfather was led to the sickroom, where he found the oldest daughter of the family lying in bed, writhing in pain. He examined her and diagnosed her with a severe case of pneumonia. He prescribed some medicine and left, feeling satisfied that he had done his job well.

As he was leaving, the master of the house came up to him and thanked him for his help. He handed my grandfather two bags filled with golden beans.