"Fuck the child..."
The man knelt on the steps covered with stone chips and cried.
I heard shouting from the other end below: "Dad, come and save me, save me."
What can I do with a head to save my ass?
My wife died for it.
The man raised his head and saw with tears in his eyes that he was at the end of the three teams.
The only thing left now was to save his own life, and he just wanted to drop everything and go up.
The steward with a scepter appeared, sitting on a platform, and on the platform was a scene of a family of three eating.
And the three of them looked like his family of three.
They were sitting on a long bench in the countryside eating at the table, and on the table made of firewood were placed the meals they usually eat.
From time to time, women would help men and children pick up food, as if they were nagging about something.
This is an all-too-familiar and ordinary look, and how cruel it is to the man whose wife has died.
The manager was sitting on the edge of the platform, lowering his head with a smile, and said to the man standing below: "You still have a chance, as long as you don't look back.
Then step back step by step and pick up your son's head."
Maybe I can get your son's body back and bring your wife back to life in the future, give it a try, otherwise you'll have no chance."
The man hesitated for a moment, gritted his teeth and ran up, howling in pain: "You are a devil, I can't listen to you, I can't listen to you."
I heard the child's voice ring out loudly at the bottom of the steps: "Dad, you don't want me anymore, you really don't want me anymore..." followed by loud crying.
The man really couldn't listen any more, so he gradually stopped and finally kicked his feet and sighed: "What an injustice!"
Unable to turn back, he could only turn his back to the stairs, hold on to the steps with both hands, and walk backwards downstairs.
"Dad, hurry up, hurry up."
The voice seemed to be getting sharper, but it was full of hope and joy.
Unable to look back, the man crawled step by step, and the platform he originally saw when he went up slowly moved to the front as he went down.
Originally, there was a box filled with dazzling jewelry on this platform, but now this box only contained all kinds of rancid garbage.
The original glow was replaced by blowflies buzzing around it.
A dozen blocks down, there was another platform.
When the man looked up, he almost lost his nerve.
He suddenly screamed: "Oh my god..."
The six beauties standing on it with seductive poses had now turned into mummies, with either black or gray-black dry skin stuck to the white bones that could already be seen.
There was another person holding a bright gauze scarf in his hand.
At this time, the gauze scarf was like a dusty spider web, gray and tattered, hanging on the long and pointed fingers of an almost skeleton-like mummy.
It seemed as if there were gusts of cold wind blowing around.
On the platforms on both sides, the original jewels and beauties had turned into garbage, scrap metal, mummies and skeletons, exuding all kinds of death smells.
He endured the great fear in his heart and climbed down step by step, but the head behind him became silent.
The silence was even more frightening.
I looked up and saw that the other people's figures had disappeared on the dim stairs.
I didn't know how far away they were.
There was no sound, and suddenly accompanied by gusts of cold wind, the sound of "creak, creak" sounded.
It seems to be behind you, from far to near.
He didn't dare to look back, so he gritted his teeth and moved down slowly.
After climbing down a few more stairs, the sound got louder and was right next to me.
Looking sideways, there was a terrifying sight.
I saw three shriveled and terrifying mummies on a platform.
One of them had his back turned and was twisting his hips.
It raised its arms and pulled its dusty, tangled hair.
At that time, the beady arm was raised, arching the long golden hair, exposing the entire back, and twisting the hips.
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At that time, every man could not take his eyes off the beautiful scenery after seeing it.
If you look back now, would you still think it is too beautiful?
It was one of the two arms it raised, which seemed to be severely weathered, with broken tendons and sagging.
But because the dry skin was connected, it hung there, swaying with the wind, making a horrifying "creeping" sound.
It was like a dry arm dug out of a grave.
It was shaking slightly, making a sound of friction between bones in the silence.
"Creak, creak...", the sound was like the wind blowing on an unclosed wooden door at night. , it makes people’s hair stand on end.
The withered arm that was dangling in the air finally fell down and landed on the surface of the platform with a clatter, stirring up a burst of smoke and dust that had been settling for an unknown period of time.
But the world without sound seems even more terrifying, surrounded by dim stairs and scenes of death.
The cold wind seemed to come from all directions and penetrated into my bones.
The sweat he shed turned into cold sweat when blown by the wind.
He didn't know whether it was cold or fear, but he couldn't help but tremble.
The only thing that can be heard here is the sound of my own breathing, and the slight rubbing sound of my hands and feet pressing on the dusty steps as I go down one step at a time.
Finally he couldn't stand the feeling of silence as if there was only one person crawling in the grave.
He stopped and shouted: "You bastard, make a sound!"
"Make a sound, make a sound, make a sound, make a sound..."
His shouts echoed up and down the dark staircase, which was empty as if there was no living thing.
"Dad, come down a little further and you'll be almost there."
Finally there was a reply.
The sound should be just a few blocks away.
The man continued to go down cautiously when he heard his head shouting from below: "Be careful, don't step on me.
Click to the left, click to the right, and come down again."
"This naughty boy."
The man was snorting from his mouth and nose, panting heavily as he climbed down: "It's already good enough for me to catch you up, but I still ask for so much."
After he climbed down a few more steps, he finally saw an oval-shaped object resting on the stairs.
It was the child's head.
He breathed a sigh of relief, slowly took two steps forward, grabbed the head with one hand, and then turned the front of the head towards him.
But he didn't see his child's face, but an extremely terrifying Rakshasa-like blue-black face.
It grinned ferociously, showing its fangs; its red eyes protruded high. . .
This grimace opened its mouth, and spewed out gloomy words along with fire: "Hey, hey, you got the wrong one..."
The fire spurted straight into the man's face, and the man was so frightened that he threw away his ghost head and leaned back at the same time. . .
"Ah" he screamed, losing his balance and falling back.
I rolled all the way up seven or eight steps before I got control and finally stopped. . .
But he also turned around, facing the bottom of the steps, and saw what was behind him. . .
His eyes widened in horror.
It was a huge head.
It was his child's head that became extremely huge, as if it occupied the entire staircase.
It was sitting on the fire of hell full of painful undead below.
It raised its head and smiled ferociously at him: "You have turned back
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