A Weird Theater That Started In London

[After the excitement, drowsiness suddenly struck, and it came for no reason. You must know that this huge wealth is enough to stimulate anyone and make him unable to sleep for three days and three nights.

But my brain keeps telling myself:

You are tired, close your eyes and rest.

Maybe it was a cold from the rain before?

As soon as the thought came to my mind, I finally lost consciousness and fell into a deep sleep.

However, I must not have slept very long, because when I woke up again, the fire was still burning without firewood.

Alas, lying on the uneven wooden floor to rest is really not a good choice, and the body is slightly numb. So, I turned over and tightly hooped the small wooden box in my arms. When I was about to sleep for a while, suddenly, footsteps came from the passage.

As I said before, the windows were all blocked with wooden boards, and even if a few boards were removed, there would not be enough room for people to pass through, not even children!

In addition, the door was also locked smoothly, and it was impossible for anyone to come in.

Unless he has a key in his hand, or he is also a gentleman on the beam.

Thinking of this, I can't help but put my hand on the trigger of the revolver gun, no one can take this money, it can only belong to me! 】

[The stranger was not in a hurry. He wandered around the villa for a long time before being attracted by the firelight and slowly walked into the passage.

As he approached, he didn't seem to notice me curled up in the dark corner of the corner, but went straight to the stove to warm up.

The guy was soaking wet, and I don't think anyone was wetter than him, even on a rainy night like this.

He didn't wear a hat, his straight hair dripping from the top of his eyes fell into Yu Jin, hissing resentfully.

A homeless man?

I immediately guessed his identity based on experience, so I hid the small wooden box containing the treasure by my side, where there was a shadow, and then said hello to him.

It didn't take long for us to chat.

He kept complaining about the cold and wet weather, hunched his neck by the fire, his teeth chattered, and his face was dead white.

"That's right," I said, "this, this is not a good weather to hit the road. But I think that this villa is not frequented by many people, it is still a pretty good villa."

Outside, pale numb sunflowers and tall, thick weeds swayed in the rain.

"In the past," he said, "there is no firmer house in this small town, and no more beautiful garden than this. It used to be a small formal drawing-room. But no one lives in it now. , even homeless people rarely rest here."

Where many beggars are used to, you'll see rags, cans and odds and ends, but there's nothing here.

"How could this be?" I asked calmly with a move in my heart.

Before answering, he let out a very uneasy sigh.

"Ghost," he said. "Ghost. He used to live here. It's a very sad story, and I don't want to tell you, but it ended up being the navigator who drowned in that cistern in the garden. He was covered in Mud, floating, neighbors pulled him up.

Since then, someone has seen a person floating in the pool, someone has seen him in the shadows, looking at the church from a distance, waiting for his dead wife to return, and someone has seen him at the school gate, waiting for the children to dismiss.

He seemed to have forgotten how they all died and drowned himself.

And what he often does is to walk back and forth, back and forth in this villa.

When the stranger finished speaking, he let out another sigh.

At the same time, I thought of the sound of his walking, the squeak of water and mud in his boots.

"Science, steam engines, internal combustion engines, and heliocentrism, this is the age of science, and superstition is not acceptable," I said, "besides, there are so many ghosts in the world, if there are ghosts in every abandoned house, then The homeless have long slept on the street, enduring one rainy night after another."

There was a panic in his words, like someone who was comforting himself.

"Yeah," it said. "Yeah, that's totally unbelievable. I've never seen any ghosts walking around myself."

I forced a smile and echoed:

"Brother, I don't believe it either, no matter whether others have seen ghosts or not, I have never seen them!"

After he finished speaking, he looked at me with a strange look for a while.

"Yeah," he said, "hope you never. It's hard enough for the poor to live without money. If the ghosts still crawl out to find him, what's the reason?"

"Fairy Wood"

"Yes, yes." I quickly echoed.

At the same time, I felt a little nervous, because I knew in my heart that my motives for coming here were not pure. Besides staying there, I also wanted to make some money.

money!

He glanced at the wooden box inadvertently.

Suddenly, the desire for money overwhelmed everything, and I secretly pulled out the revolver that was full of bullets.

On one side, water continued to seep out of the man's clothes, flowing all over the floor, even to the corner.

A dank smell rose from him!

"My God, buddy," I asked out loud, losing my temper, "You can't do it anyway? It's on such a big fire."

"Dry?"

He let out a coughing laugh and repeated, "Do? Haha, I can never do it..."

"Whether it's rainy or sunny, summer, winter, we can't do it, get it!"

As he said that, he stretched out his two hands that were hidden in front of him, covered with mud, and without any hesitation, reached into the fire, the fire engulfed his wrists, he turned his face sideways, fierce and frantic. looking at me.

madman!

Devil!

Tell it to taste the power of guns!

I grab my revolver and pull the hammer and trigger at the same time, bang!

Smoke rises.

It laughed wildly, glared at me sideways, half-length in the stove, still glaring at me.

boom!

boom!

boom!

Two shots hit the monster again, and it laughed even more happily, and one shot hit me, through the mouth, and through the back of the head.

Why am I committing suicide?

Probably not wanting to be tortured by ghosts.

But I have always been a person who is afraid of death, and I always resist suicide in my heart. Why is it so decisive?

really weird. 】

I don't know how long has passed.

In the distance, a bell rang.

Yang Kai woke up like a dream, and the newspaper in his hand seemed to have some magic power, which firmly grabbed his mind.

"Three bullets were used on the ghost."

"A bullet for myself."

With that said, Lu Li picked up the revolver gun that was placed next to it, and with a flick of it, the magazine was opened.

The warehouse was full of six bullets, and now there are two left.

correspond.

"So you did commit suicide."

"That kind of reason...it's actually kind of interesting."

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