I was exploring an old, abandoned village deep in the forests of Taiwan, a place the locals had long since left behind. They warned me not to go, whispering about the Jid—a creature that only appears in forsaken places, a guardian or ghost, depending on who you ask. But curiosity got the best of me, so I went.

The village was silent, every corner filled with shadows cast by the few rays of sunlight that managed to pierce through the canopy above. As I was walking past what looked like an old shrine, I heard a faint scraping sound behind me. I turned, expecting to see a stray animal, but what I saw was anything but ordinary. It was a small, hunched figure, no more than three feet tall, with thin, spindly limbs and pale skin that almost seemed to glow in the dim light. Its face was partially obscured by long, matted hair, but its eyes were visible—dark, intense, and locked onto mine.

For a moment, it just stood there, observing me with an unsettling stillness. Then it began to move, almost gliding across the ground, keeping its gaze fixed on me as it circled around. I tried to remain calm, but every instinct told me to leave. Finally, I took a slow step backward, and as if on cue, the Jid vanished into the shadows as quietly as it had appeared.

I was exploring an old, abandoned village deep in the forests of Taiwan, a place the locals had long since left behind. They warned me not to go, whispering about the Jid—a creature that only appears in forsaken places, a guardian or ghost, depending on who you ask. But curiosity got the best of me, so I went.

The village was silent, every corner filled with shadows cast by the few rays of sunlight that managed to pierce through the canopy above. As I was walking past what looked like an old shrine, I heard a faint scraping sound behind me. I turned, expecting to see a stray animal, but what I saw was anything but ordinary. It was a small, hunched figure, no more than three feet tall, with thin, spindly limbs and pale skin that almost seemed to glow in the dim light. Its face was partially obscured by long, matted hair, but its eyes were visible—dark, intense, and locked onto mine.

For a moment, it just stood there, observing me with an unsettling stillness. Then it began to move, almost gliding across the ground, keeping its gaze fixed on me as it circled around. I tried to remain calm, but every instinct told me to leave. Finally, I took a slow step backward, and as if on cue, the Jid vanished into the shadows as quietly as it had appeared.

I didn’t stay to see if it would return. The locals say that seeing the Jid means you’ve intruded somewhere you don’t belong, and I think they might be right. I left that village in a hurry, feeling its eyes on me the entire way back to the forest’s edge. I’m not sure what it wanted, but I won’t be returning to find out.