The Lament of the Borrowed Soul

The sun was setting over the old bank, casting a somber glow on the weathered brick facade. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged paper and the weight of forgotten dreams. Among the rows of filing cabinets and dusty ledgers, sat the loan officer, Mr. Chen, a man of middle age with a face etched with the lines of his years. His job was to lend money, to help people build their futures, but today, it felt as if he were dealing with something far more sinister.

It began with the whispers. At first, they were faint, like the distant hum of a distant radio, but they grew louder, more insistent. They were the voices of borrowers, long gone, their spirits trapped within the walls of the bank. "I need more," they would beg, their words a haunting echo of their desperate past.

Mr. Chen ignored them at first, but as the days passed, the whispers grew louder, more insistent. He would find himself staring at the old ledger, the pages filled with names and faces, and he would see them, the borrowers, their faces twisted in pain and desperation. He began to hear their stories, the tales of lives destroyed by debt, of families torn apart, of dreams shattered by the cold, unyielding hand of financial ruin.

One evening, as the bank was about to close, Mr. Chen found himself in the loan department, surrounded by the files of the borrowers. He had been working late, lost in the labyrinth of numbers and names, when he heard a voice. It was soft, almost a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a knife.

"I need help," the voice said.

Startled, Mr. Chen looked around, but there was no one there. He felt a chill run down his spine, and his heart began to race. He stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the empty street. It was then that he realized the voice was coming from the files on his desk.

He picked up the file, his fingers trembling, and opened it. There was a photograph inside, a young woman with a hopeful smile. The file was for a loan she had taken out years ago, a loan that had led to her downfall. She had borrowed money to start a business, but it had failed, and she had been unable to repay the debt.

Mr. Chen felt a wave of sorrow wash over him. He knew that the woman was long gone, her spirit trapped in the file, unable to move on. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened the file and began to read the letter she had written to him.

Dear Mr. Chen,

I am writing to you with a heavy heart. I know that you are just a loan officer, doing your job, but I need you to understand. The debt I owe you is not just a financial burden; it is a weight that has followed me into the afterlife. I have tried to repay it, but it is too late. I am trapped here, in this file, unable to move on.

I am asking you to help me. Please, Mr. Chen, forgive my debt. I know that it is a lot to ask, but I am desperate. I need to be free, to move on to the next life, to find peace.

Sincerely,

Li Mei

Mr. Chen's eyes filled with tears as he read the letter. He knew that he couldn't forgive the debt, not in the way Li Mei had asked, but he could do something. He took a pen and wrote a note, then slipped it into the file.

Dear Li Mei,

I understand your plight, and I am sorry that I cannot forgive your debt. However, I can do something for you. I will release your spirit from this file, and I will ensure that your story is told. You will not be forgotten.

Sincerely,

Mr. Chen

He placed the file back on his desk and closed his eyes, visualizing Li Mei's spirit being freed from the file. He felt a sense of release, as if he had lifted a burden from his own shoulders. But as he opened his eyes, he saw that the whispers had stopped. The spirits of the borrowers were gone, and with them, the weight of their stories.

The next day, Mr. Chen found himself back in the loan department, the whispers no longer there. He knew that he had not solved the problem of the haunted bank, but he had found a way to cope with it. He would continue to lend money, to help people build their futures, but he would also remember the borrowers, the spirits that had haunted him, and he would honor their memories.

And so, the bank remained haunted, but not by the spirits of the borrowers. It was haunted by the memories of Mr. Chen, a man who had learned the true cost of debt, and who had found a way to make a difference, even in the afterlife.