I used to joke around that it’s the 21^st century, it’s the woman’s job to save the day. Little did I know that it would really become my job someday.

My family, spanning generations down the line, have been involved with the spiritual world. My great great great grandfather was a Shaman. Before my mother’s great grandmother her mother was also a Shaman. An uncle in our family was a spirit questor. For generations those in my family have done deeds for those in need. Look for lost souls, search for a spirit that has gone the wrong way, heal the ill, and fight against evil in the netherworld.

They have done many. There have been many uninvited visitors in my home as I grew up. The toilet flushing at unexpected times. Lights flickering on and off simultaneously in multiple rooms at once. Dishes on the shelves somehow returning to the table. The worst was the unseen whispering into your ears as you slept.

Like a curse, I have inherited their spiritual powers. Like my uncle, I am a spirit questor. Though I prefer the label over a Shaman.

I have met my friend who died from a car accident. Her long raven hair flew beautifully into the wind – we were inside my house, though and no air conditioner was on, not in the middle of winter. I was alone. It was a wonder I didn’t ask how she got in. But she was there, behind me. And then we talked – I don’t remember about what – but she was smiling, dew drops visible in her eyes, and then she waved and disappeared just as the phone rang. Another friend dropping the news about the accident. For the first time since inheriting the family’s curse, I felt chills.

You see, the thing about being a spirit questor is that I don’t know any of the spirits personally. They’re strangers, faces – sometimes they have no faces – I’ve never seen before. They look all kinds of things, don all sorts of creepy traditional clothes. The shoes I hate seeing the most are shoes with bird tips. I have walked past a man wearing that once.

Sometimes when I’m sitting at my laptop I’ll see someone climbing up the stairs. At night, I’ll hearing pounding inside my closet, someone running up and down the stairs. I am haunted 24/7.

They say that once you get married it goes away. Why? It’s because you become another person’s person. Your family is different now, your last name changes. The hauntings never get to you, but for life you’ll forever be chasing spirits for the helpless.

I married Park Chanyeol on my 26^th birthday. The noises stopped. Halted completely. Like magic. But little did I know he became the haunted one.

And I am so sorry that he is the one who became lost…

±±±±±

Three weeks have past. The natural has happened. Yeol’s angry parents have me. I have betrayed my loyalty to them. Yet it doesn’t change the fact that Yeol is still on the bed. Not completely lifeless. He is still there, just not in body and mind.

Who knows what happened. He may have seen something. Someone may have come to him, spoken with him. Through a dream? In spirit?

We’ve only lived five months together before I came home to find him soulless. Park Chanyeol was an ordinary person. Simple guy living in a big city who just one day met me. Intrigued by my spiritual abilities, we sat down and talked and the rest was history.

Today I was at the hospital again. With Yeol’s parents – his mother never leaving his side. His father was a pastor – kind of ironic for our situation. The things you wonder about in the modern age is what really works. Prayers? God? Or spiritual work of Shamans? The sacrifice of an animal to a deity?

The heart monitor is forever irritating. Beeping, constantly beeping. Yeol just sleeping there peacefully. He isn’t waking up. I have a sinking doubt he would never wake up.

Our house wasn’t haunted. My parents had done cleansing when we found the place. They had wiped out all previous spirits, so Yeol and I could start our new life peacefully. It had been peaceful at first. We had lived well. Though sometimes, Yeol jerked awake violently at night. Since the marriage, I had stopped practicing. Not like I did anything big before. I never did projects. That was my parents’ thing. I only aided them by standing on the sidelines. I’ve only ever seen and experienced the wraths of spirits, but I had never gone looking for them.

Not ever.

My attention switched when the door quietly caked open. No one stepped in. Eyes traveling back to the bed I saw nothing. Yeol’s parents were by his bedside – his mother sitting on the chair, her husband standing behind her with arm around her shoulder. Curtain on the wide window drawn open. Heavenly light drifted inside as if an angel might be standing there with hands clasped together, head bowed down with eyes closed in prayer.

I turned again. My throat immediately closed. My heart hiked up. Leaning over the bed was an unusually skinny and tall shadow. Translucent but dark. Arching so low that it was touching Yeol. The hateful heart monitor sped up twenty times forcing his mother off the chair now screaming wildly for the doctor. Then I saw its gold eyes where it hadn’t been before. Almond shaped but the eyes did not look human. Just a gold light with no iris, no whites. It turned with a snarl to look right into my eyes. Feet frozen, unable to breathe I watched as it lunged at me, moving so fast I couldn’t even see it. In the next moment, it disappeared through me.

Spirits can also evoke the feelings of vulnerability and when you succumb to it spirits take you over. That is why exorcists when battling with demons always tell the possessed to fight. When you have power, you can win.

But I am not possessed. I am seeing things…once more.

That can only mean a few things. Yeol is really lost. I no longer have a husband. And he has no way of coming back.

I sit alone that evening contemplating the rest of my life. To let Yeol sleep forever or figure out a solution. The fact is, I am indebted to this life because my husband has taken my responsibility. He has freed me from the spirits that have bound me.

In the solace of my lone home I can hear music playing from the bedroom. There is no CD in the player. It is not plugged in for it still sits under the bed where we have last left it. Spirits like to play. They like taunting you. My heart beat escalates, but I have to stay calm. Someone is with me but I have to tell myself I am used to this. Even so, my hand forms a fist on my lap when the TV turns on. The volume is on max. Someone is hee-hawing. I merely jump when the doorbell rings and without hesitating a second further, run to answer it.

“Mom,” I call out, relief washing through me. I nearly buckled on the doorstep upon seeing her and my father.

“Shh…” the woman holds up a finger to her lips to silence me. Peering over my shoulder into the now quiet house she begins a chant. As she enters the home she tosses dried corn seeds into every corner of the room. When she is done, she pulls me over to the table. All is quiet now and so very peaceful.

“Your uncle did a spirit calling,” my father starts off. “But they can’t find him.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“His soul may have disappeared, he may have been eaten by a stronger entity.” Mom suggests.

“Or he may have crossed over into the world of the dead,” dad adds. “But your uncle suggested one option.”

I waited.

“You do the soul calling. There’s a chance he will come when he sees you.”

My mom touches my hand, “Remember what we’ve taught you. By all means, we have to bring him back.”

And that sealed it.

Early the next morning, we set up in my house. My parents brought in my father’s handmade bench where I would sit. All curtains were open just like any other day, but I was being prepped to make a journey into the world of spirits. I was anxious, nervous, agitated. What if I don’t do this right and Yeol never makes it back to his body? What if…I can’t find him at all? Will he forever be lost?

“I will call you back if you’re gone too long,” my uncle assures me. He is seated at my side to guide me since we share the similarity of never being full Shamans. “Find him and bring him back. He does not belong there. Remember, don’t talk to anyone. You have to know it’s him.”

Hearing this makes me even more nervous. Pressing my lips together, I nod.

“Now close your eyes,” he directs. “It is dark now.” I feel his hand touch mine. “You are alone. There’s a forest, a very big, dark forest…”

I begin floating away, his voice begins to fade as he directs me outside. There’s a woosh of wind blowing past me as I take the last step down on the front porch. My house transitions into grains of sand before the wind blows it away. Like a mirage, skinny barks replace it. Much like hell the world is completely night. There is no moon but I can see.

Leaves crunch under my feet as I begin my journey. Not a sound is heard. Duplicates of the same looking trees stand around me into the vast, vast beyond. I wonder whether to call out Yeol’s name. It feels like five minutes have passed. How much distance have I covered?

I pause upon hearing something scurry nearby. One look in the distance and I can see someone crawling on the ground, covering an unbelievably large distance each second. Long hair. An unseemingly gray body. A kimono? I don’t know. I’m not going to wait to find out.

Heart thrashing, I begin my run. If someone calls for you, don’t answer. If you see something you aren’t supposed to see, don’t point. Don’t communicate. Don’t look at them. These words have been said to me all through my youth. I know better than to try.

Run. Run. Run.

I can’t scream, so all I do is pant and whimper. I can still hear the four-legged monster behind me. A shriek when an old man pops out in front of me from out of nowhere. Dodging to the side, I continue running.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Run. Run. Run.

A building looms ahead. All grows quiet when I near. Halting in front of the building that looks just like my home, I continue catching my breath. My home is chipped. The edges haggard. Paint peeling. Windows cracked. The wooden stairs once freshly painted now broken in. It looks unruly, but it’s my home…here I suppose. Gulping, I slowly turn just out of curiosity. There is no one behind me. Maybe it chased me for fun…never mind, I don’t want to know.

“Namjoo,” a voice echoes behind me when I begin taking a step forward.

Swiveling around, I search the vast beyond. There is no one.

A pounding on the window makes me turn back to the house. I look up but cannot see anything, anyone.

“Namjoo,” the voice calls again.

Chanyeol.

“Yeol?” I immediately call out before slapping a hand over my mouth.

Breathing hard, I listen for signs of anything. Heart beating hard for what might happen next.

Nothing.

The pounding on the window again. I turn around. This time there is a familiar figure on the other side. I squint to see better, but now there is no one there.

A high-pitched scream of a woman makes me hurl around to see someone flying at me. Mouth opening, I scream from sheer horror. I get knocked backward, head slamming hard against the ground.

I’m kind of knocked out, I think but I can still hear the pounding against the window. Dazed, I manage to open my eyes and look around bolting upright when I see ceiling above me. I stand gasping. Somehow, I had made it into my unruly looking house. There is still that pounding. Listening closer makes it harder to decipher whether it’s coming from outside or inside, which creeps me out even more.

If someone is outside pounding on the window, they’re telling me to get out. If they’re inside…

My head tilts back to look up at the smooth ceiling. The floorboards upstairs are creaking. Is it Yeol? Who is up there?

Never minding, I run toward the stairs when someone begins slamming against the front door. Heart accelerating, my feet pound against the floorboards on my way up. I pant heavily when I reach the landing. Ahead of me the hallway branches into three rooms. The guest room. The king bedroom. The bathroom.

I’ve never known before how my house resembles a horror movie. It had always been so resilient. Yeol and I loved it at first sight. We would fill it with life. Children. A happy family. Maybe even two dogs.

In this horrid gloom, all I see is a dark home. No life. No happiness.

Where are you, I wonder. Come home with me.

I take a hesitant step forward. “Yeol?”

The doors are all closed as if on purpose. Will something jump out at me? Will the sudden music accompanying it scare me?

I am already scared.

I don’t even know where I am. Whose house this really is.

“Yeol,” I call out again. Is he here?

I halt when I hear that pounding again. Inside or outside? Why can’t I figure that out?

I’m scared. I’m trembling. my hands by my sides I gather my courage. My parents, my grandparents, great grandparents, the women and men transcending down the line have been here before. Each time they came back victorious. I must also go back victorious. I must make this journey.

Gritting my teeth, I listen closely for where the pounding is coming from. Bedroom. Our bedroom. I hesitate again. This time my attention switches to the wind echoing hauntingly into the house, like the lonely whispers of wandering ghosts who haven’t found their way across the bridge into peace. I jump upon the thudding of the door slamming against the wall. Something has gotten inside.

No time to waste I immediately plunge into the king bedroom. The door shuts behind me locking me from freedom.

His back is to me, but I know that figure. He’s wearing what I found him in. White shirt with a smiley print. Black pants. He’s knocking continuously on the window and on the other side…on the other side…there’s another him.

He turns to me with his mouth gaping, eyes drooping, shadows underneath them like he’s been sick for a long time. Yeol shakes his head. I don’t know why. I can’t hear him. He’s not speaking…maybe he can’t, but I can hear his voice croaking from the back of his throat. He looks horrific. I want to go to him, yet I can’t move.

This man looks like my Yeol, but who is on the other side of the window? Shaking his head furiously, his mouth moving like he’s screaming. Warning me?

All of a sudden, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I hear the door quietly creaking open. The floorboards creak one at a time.

“Hehehehe…shhhh….” I hear behind me. Goosebumps rise on my skin. The temperature in the room drops at an alarmingly rate. Yeol continues shaking his head appearing paler, ghostlier by the second.

My lower lip trembles. I try not to whimper, but fail. Scaly hair brushes against my face and I smell something rotten. Its weight is compressing into me and I feel something on my shoulder. It’s so quiet here it feels like I’m alone, but I’m not.

I in a breath and began running forward as it screams from the top of its lungs into my ear. I knock into Yeol – if it’s him – and go crashing out the window.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

I’ve had this dream many times. Jerking awake as I fall off the world’s tallest tower. But this is not a tower. This is not a dream. My arms and legs are flailing in the air as I try to catch my landing. The fall seems forever, everything moving in slow motion and then I land with a sick thud.

I might have out momentarily. I wake up crying for my parents.

“Save me…I don’t want to be here anymore,” I sob. Small, cold hands caress my cheeks. I hear a child talking to me. I cry some more from fright. I don’t even want to look.

“Namjoo! Namjoo!” a male voice calls out. I feel him shaking me before my eyes shot open.

I narrow my eyes for closer inspection. No longer sickly. No drooping eyes. Not a gaping mouth. Hesitantly, I reach out to touch his lower arm. Warm.

“Y…Yeol?” I squeak.

“I heard you screaming,” he said. “I couldn’t find you.”

“I saw you earlier,” I told sitting up.

“What are you talking about?”

My blood runs cold. My eyes slowly turn to look behind him where our house is crumbling. The wrecked replica of Yeol is crawling toward us, his jaw drooping lower and lower into the ground. A long-haired woman with her abnormally sharp and long tongue lolling out is running toward us hunched over. Her eyes menacingly rolling back into her head. Her white dress is smudged with dirt and blood. salivating.

“Heeeehehehehehe,” she continues laughing in a shrill voice.

The windows of the house shatter as I scramble to my feet.

“Come over here, come over HERE!!!!!!” she screams.

My heart rate continues hiking up the longer she continues screaming wildly almost as if she were roaring from anger. The world begins disintegrating around us. With the next step my leg sinks halfway into cold murky water. Tall reeds all around us. I look back to see the distorted spirit wading toward us. There’s no way back onto land unless I go through her, but I won’t risk my chance. If a spirit swallows me, I am gone forever.

The further we go the more we begin sinking underwater. My body is already freezing. I don’t want to die…

“Wake me up…wake me up, wake me up!” I began screaming and choking on my tears. We’re in deeper, my legs are kicking for grounding. There is nothing.

Thin, bony fingers wrap around my face. Long hair floats around my face and all goes black.

Quiet. Too much silence.

Am I dead?

A gulp of air makes me heave up and I choke on air.

“Namjoo! Oh my god, Namjoo!” my mother bawls as she clutches my head against her s.

Later I learned I had lost consciousness in the middle of soul calling. EMTs had arrived at our house to revive me. That is when I had woken up though with streaks of tears myself.

I have always known there is a line between life and death. When you go, you go. But sometimes, I stop to hear about miracles. The dead coming back to life. Perhaps there are really lost souls who need guiding back to their bodies. Some make it, some don’t.

Souls really are fickle and weak. Hiding away at the worst of times, wilting away when a stronger force manages to cling on. It’s all a mystery and wonder how life and death work. Some people celebrate life, the coming into being. Others celebrate death as spirits need help passing over. The focus is always outweighed. Is that why there are spirits still wandering, trapped in this world of humanhood?

There are variances in stories told. But I am a lucky one.

Immediately after gaining consciousness, I went to the hospital with the parents. Nervousness fluxes through me as I approach the room. There are noises inside. Slowly, I push the door open wondering what will await me. Whether I had been successful as so many others in my generation.

I shouldn’t have worried.

I was reborn the moment I looked in to see Yeol awake.

Ever since my trip into the realm of spirits, I have vowed never to go back. I figured that the spirits that want to cross me in this human world I can deal with, because this is my space of living. Where I belong.

“Are you done, hon?” I call out.

Three months have passed since the incident. Yeol is healthy. Life is back to normal. And we’re expecting.

“Put in the DVD,” he called from the kitchen.

Kneeling in front of the TV I turn on the DVD player and slide in the disc. I look up a second to wait for the screen to change, but my heart immediately drops when I see the reflection of a woman, head cocked to the side, long tongue lolling out. Swiveling around I see nothing, no one. The volume as the DVD settings load up make me jump and I quickly turn to lower the volume on the TV. Turning around to double check, I see no one again.

“Looking for me?” Yeol pokes his head into the room from the side.

***Oooh...looks like something may have followed them back. Namjoo looked at the spirits and she mistakenly called out

***A/N: anyway, about the corn seed. Yea, I know salt can be used, too, but I've actually never seen it be used in real life. I've seen Shamans using dried corn seeds though, I think it's because spirits don't like the smell? I can't remember. Anyway, thinking about spirits and all that has creeped me out so I am done with this. This wasn't top notch freaky, so I hope you weren't spooked. I wrote in first point of view just so it may be more relatable though it's kind of crummy.