During the lunar ghost month, the air in the city seemed heavier, and the nights felt longer. Every household set up tables laden with food offerings to appease the spirits that roamed freely during this time. Families prepared offerings based on what their ancestors liked, with certain dishes holding special significance. For young Jason, these rituals were a blend of fascination and unease.

"Jason, come here," Grandma called out one evening as the sun dipped below the horizon. "I need you to look after the food offerings while I go to the void decks to burn the paper offerings."

Jason nodded obediently. They lived on the top floor in a corner unit, which made the corridor outside their flat feel even more isolated. Grandma had arranged an elaborate spread on a table set up in the corridor. Plates of roasted chicken, roasted pork, fruits, sweets, and rice balls were carefully placed, with incense sticks and candles burning steadily.

"Stay here and make sure no cats or birds disturb the food, and chase them away if any approach," Grandma instructed. "I'll be back soon."

Jason watched as Grandma shuffled off, clutching a bundle of joss paper and incense. He sat down on a small stool beside the table, his eyes darting nervously around. The corridor was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the faint rustle of leaves and distant murmurs from other families performing their own rituals.

Minutes felt like hours. Jason's gaze kept returning to the offerings, making sure everything remained untouched. He imagined the spirits coming to feast, drawn by the sweet scents and the flickering incense. He wondered if they were kind, if they missed their families, or if they were lonely. The minutes ticked by slowly. Jason's senses were heightened, every creak and rustle amplified in the quiet corridor. He thought he heard whispers, faint and indistinct, like a distant conversation. His heart beat faster, but he reminded himself of Grandma's words. The spirits meant no harm as long as they were shown respect.

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine. He felt a strange presence, as if he were being watched. He turned his head slowly and saw something that made his heart skip a beat.

A distinct white entity, faintly glowing, was floating up the stairs. It moved silently, its form shimmering in the dim light. Jason's breath caught in his throat. The figure seemed almost human but not quite, its face an ethereal blur. The entity glided closer, its movements smooth and unhurried.

Jason's fear paralysed him for a moment. His mind raced with stories Grandma had told him about spirits and ghosts, about the importance of the offerings and the respect they commanded. But this was no story; this was real, and it was right in front of him.

The entity paused at the top of the stairs, its hollow gaze fixed on the table. Jason's fear broke free, and he bolted into the flat, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against the door, heart pounding, trying to catch his breath.

"Grandma!" he called out, his voice trembling. "Grandma, there's... there's a ghost!"

Moments later, Grandma returned, her face calm and serene as always. "Jason, what happened?" she asked, seeing the fear in his eyes.

He pointed to the door, unable to form coherent words. Grandma gently guided him to a chair and made him sit down.

"Jason, during the ghost month, we offer food and burn joss paper to honour and appease the spirits. They mean us no harm as long as we show respect."

Jason nodded, still shaken. "But I saw one, Grandma. It was real, and it was right there."
Grandma smiled softly and patted his hand. "You did well by staying with the offerings. The spirits appreciate the gesture, and by running inside, you showed that you respect their presence. Fear not, my boy. Our ancestors watch over us."

Jason took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. Grandma's calm demeanour reassured him, and he felt a small measure of relief. Together, they went back to the corridor, where the offerings remained untouched, the incense still burning.

From that night on, Jason understood the significance of the ghost month rituals in a way he never had before. The spirits were real, and so was the respect they commanded. And in the presence of his wise Grandma, he found the courage to face the unknown with reverence rather than fear.