The Ghost in the Rừng Sác

The wind howled through the towering canopy of the Rừng Sác forest, carrying the distinct scent of damp mud and decaying leaves. Mr. Tư, a veteran hunter with over thirty years of experience, gripped his rifle tightly on his shoulder. His eyes were sharp, scanning every bush and dry branch. Everything was terrifyingly silent. There was no bird song, no scurrying squirrels, and even the weasels that usually hid nearby had vanished completely. This stillness stood in stark contrast to all previous hunts, where merely stepping to the forest edge would bring the rustling sounds of wildlife.

Mr. Tư froze, his palms beginning to sweat cold drops. Experience told him something unusual was happening. He continued deeper, his heavy feet crushing the thick layer of fallen leaves. Suddenly, from afar, in a clearing covered with cogon grass, he saw a figure. It was an old woman wearing an old conical hat pulled low to hide her face, walking slowly toward him. In such a deep forest, encountering a solitary old woman was extremely rare and suspicious.

Mr. Tư stopped, lowering his voice to ask, "Who is there?" The old woman did not answer, continuing to trudge forward. He observed more closely, and then a chill ran down his spine. Her feet... did not touch the ground. Her steps were light, as if gliding through the air, without disturbing the grass beneath them. His heart tightened, and his breathing became rapid. A bold but fearful thought arose in his mind: "A ghost!"

Driven by the survival instinct of a hunter, Mr. Tư quickly sat down and loaded his rifle. The dark barrel pointed straight at the apparition. Both sides moved gradually closer, creating a circle of suffocating tension. When the distance shortened to a few dozen meters, within effective firing range, his trembling finger squeezed the trigger.

"Bang!"

The explosion tore through the quiet space. White smoke billowed up. But instead of falling, the old woman lunged forward with supernatural speed, charging directly into his former position. Fortunately, the reflexes of a long-time hunter helped him roll aside just in time. The old woman missed her grab, and her distorted form revealed itself as a fierce white tiger. It roared loudly, shaking the entire forest.

Without hesitation, Mr. Tư stood up, closed his eyes, and fired another shot. This time, the beast collapsed, dying instantly. He panted heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. Afterwards, he returned to the village and recounted this thrilling story to everyone. The villagers went into the forest, confirmed the event, and built a shrine for the white tiger, regarding it as a sacred deity. As for Mr. Tư, he retired from hunting entirely from that day on. He told his neighbors with a sad tone:

"My time has passed. Even ghosts lured me into the forest to kill me. If I stubbornly continue hunting, I will surely encounter the Lord of the Forest. Fate has decided; I dare not defy it."

The story spread throughout the region, embellished with details to make it more captivating. People believed it was true, trusting in the supernatural power of the ancient forest and its spirit-beasts. However, upon re-analysis, we see that while the story seems logical according to folk wisdom, easily accepting it without verifying facts—such as whether anyone else witnessed it or if it was just a one-sided account—is a manifestation of gullibility. In the age of science, stories like these are often merely allegories or anecdotes, difficult to consider as historical or biological truths.

The Meaning of the Story

The moral lesson drawn from this story emphasizes the correct attitude toward information. We should not believe hastily or without consideration simply because a story sounds attractive, thrilling, or aligns with feelings of fear and curiosity. Listening without rushing to believe is the key to maintaining strength and wisdom. Blind faith in unverified matters can lead to wrong behaviors, causing confusion or harm to oneself and the community. Always remain alert, judging based on reason and evidence, rather than letting emotions dominate your intellect.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Most Venerable Thích Chân Quang