Dongming Gas Station's Haunting Melody

In the heart of a desolate stretch of road, nestled among the whispering pines, stood Dongming Gas Station. It was a place where the sun barely dared to set, and the stars seemed to mock the darkness with their faint glow. The station was a relic of a bygone era, with its peeling paint and rusted sign that read, "Dongming Gas Station – Your Journey's Rest Stop."

The night was as still as death when a group of travelers stumbled upon the station. They had been driving for hours, their eyes heavy with fatigue, when the sign loomed before them like a siren's call. They pulled into the parking lot, their vehicles a silent testament to the long journey they had endured.

As they stepped out, the cold air wrapped around them like a shroud. The station was empty, save for the distant hum of an old refrigerator. They pushed open the creaky door, and the bell above it clanged, a sound that echoed through the empty space.

"Who's there?" called out one of the travelers, a young woman named Li. There was no reply, just the faint rustling of the wind through the trees.

Li's friend, Zhang, looked around with a nervous smile. "Come on, let's grab some coffee and get some rest. We can hit the road again in the morning."

They moved towards the counter, where a small window displayed the contents of the station's kitchen. Li reached for the coffee pot, but her hand froze when she heard a faint, haunting whistle. It was a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, as if the very air itself was filled with the melody.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zhang nodded, his eyes wide with fear. "Yeah, it's coming from the back room. Let's check it out."

They followed the sound, their footsteps echoing in the silence. The back room was dimly lit by a flickering light, casting long shadows on the walls. At the far end of the room, a figure stood, a silhouette against the darkness.

"Who's there?" Zhang called out again, his voice trembling.

The figure turned, and for a moment, the travelers were frozen in place. Before them stood an old woman, her face etched with lines of sorrow and pain. Her eyes were hollow, filled with a deep, unyielding sadness.

"Who are you?" Li asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The old woman did not speak, but her eyes seemed to hold a story that could never be told. She raised her hand, and the air around her seemed to shimmer. The whistle grew louder, a haunting melody that seemed to pierce their very souls.

"Please," the old woman whispered, her voice breaking. "Help me."

Li and Zhang exchanged a look of confusion and fear. The old woman stepped closer, and the room seemed to grow colder. The whistle reached a crescendo, and then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

The old woman's eyes closed, and she seemed to fade away, leaving behind only the faintest trace of her presence. Li and Zhang stood there, frozen in place, the weight of the old woman's sorrow pressing down on them.

"Who was she?" Zhang asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Li shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't know, but I think she needed help."

As they left the station, the whistle began again, a haunting melody that seemed to follow them down the road. They never found out who the old woman was, or what her story was, but they carried her sorrow with them, a reminder that some things are better left forgotten.

Days turned into weeks, and the haunting melody of the whistle continued to follow them. They tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. It was a reminder of the old woman's unfulfilled plea, a whisper of a story that was never meant to be told.

One night, as they pulled into Dongming Gas Station for the last time, the whistle began again. This time, it was louder, more haunting, as if the old woman's spirit was trying to reach out to them one last time.

"Please," she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow. "Help me."

Li and Zhang looked at each other, tears streaming down their faces. They knew they had to help her, even if it meant facing the darkness that had followed them for so long.

They stepped into the station, the cold air wrapping around them like a shroud. The old woman stood before them, her eyes filled with hope.

"Thank you," she whispered. "You have given me peace."

With a final, haunting whistle, the old woman faded away, leaving behind only the memory of her story and the knowledge that sometimes, the ghosts of the past need a little help to find their rest.