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Hmong Ghost stories . Long ago, in a quiet Hmong village deep in the mountains, there was an old hill covered with moss and tall trees. On top of that hill stood an ancient grave—so old that no one remembered whose it was.

The elders whispered that it belonged to a young Hmong man who had died long ago, before he ever found love. They said his spirit never left, and on cold nights when the moon hid behind the clouds, his ghost would return to the village.

The young girls who stayed up late spinning thread or fetching water often said they met a handsome stranger by the path. He wore old Hmong clothes, black and faded, and spoke softly in an old-fashioned tone. He smiled, asked their names, and promised to visit again.