Electra Rose
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Halloween 2019 Japanese Mythology Inspired Story #1 (A Modern Medium)
🕑 Added 2019-10-31 07:59:54 +0000 UTCSomething was moving in the ceiling again.
“It’s just a snake,” Mama said, clacking down breakfast plates adeptly. “I’m sure it climbed up that kinmokusei tree and it’s living in our roof. Do you have your nametag? I don’t want to have to bring it to you again.”
“I have it,” Kanon said, in a grouchy tone she wasn’t entirely proud of. “Of course.” When Mama turned away, she slid her hand inside the pocket of her uniform vest to check. The thin piece of plastic was there, where she had put it yesterday.
“I don’t know why you keep taking it off,” Mama said, in a long-suffering tone. She slid elastics over the three bento boxes on the counter top.
Junko came thudding down the stairs, still putting her hair up into pigtails. She had a white mask around her neck and her red friendship string was tied around her left ankle, over the black sock.
Mama saw it and sighed. “Don’t let your teacher see that,” she warned. “I’m tired of getting calls about you breaking dress code.”
Junko made an acknowledging sound and zipped straight past them both to pour tea. She refilled their mother’s cup while she was at it and then plopped down onto her cushioned seat to begin wolfing down breakfast.
Kanon tried not to be envious. Her breakfast was miso soup, tsukemono, and rice with a raw egg cracked over top. Junko had the same, but with a portion of grilled salmon.
It looked and smelled really good. Her mouth watered, so she reached for the kakegohan seasoning to shake over her rice to make it more interesting. Mama was only being fair. Everyone else had the salmon in their lunch box, but Junko still had to eat school lunches.
She finished, put her dishes in the sink, and gave her mother a hug goodbye before putting her red bento box in her bag and hurrying out the door before Dad even came down for breakfast. She put her bag down a little too roughly into the basket of her bike, making a loud clank that made elderly Takemoto-san peer over from where she was puttering in her garden of overgrown potted plants.
“Sorry,” Kanon said on reflex.
Junko stopped where she was stepping out of the house and frowned. “Who are you talking to?” Her eyes passed over Ms. Takemoto without pausing, because Ms. Takemoto had died 2 years back.
“Nobody, Jun-chan.” Kannon hiked up her skirt and tossed her hair back as she sat on her bike. “Good luck on your quiz!”
“Have a nice day, thank you,” Junko answered.
The ride to school took a little more than 40 minutes, but at least it wasn’t on a steep incline. She made a stop at Lawson to buy an iced latte with two sugars and drank it outside, watching her classmates pedal by. She threw the cup away to conceal evidence of the stop before she continued to school, and was one of the last students to park her bike under the awning. She kicked up dust running across the grounds to beat the bell to homeroom. It was close, but she was in her seat with a novel on her desk for the 15 minute reading time.
“Good morning, class. Yamada-san, where is your nametag?” Shizuki-sensei said.
“I have it,” Kannon said. She hastily pulled it out and pinned it on. “Sorry, Shizumi-sensei.”
The Social Studies teacher sighed. “Thank you. Alright. Announcements?”
The school day dragged on. She ran to the toilet during the break after 3rd class to check her reflection. Kanon frowned at the girl in the mirror with dark circles and a zit coming up on her cheek. Not being able to sleep soundly was really getting to her. The noises at night were getting so much louder. She sighed and rearranged her bangs before going to the stall. She rapped with her knuckles on reflex before reaching to open it.
Someone knocked on the other side of the door.
Kanon paused. Her mouth opened to ask, “Hanako-san?”
But if it wasn’t, it was one of her classmates, and they’d laugh. And worse- what if it was Hanako-san? It was just better to avoid interaction.
She kept her mouth closed and left the bathroom. She hovered outside the door to class 1 on her way back, counting students. 24. Everyone was in there. She was still in the hallway when the bell rang. She darted inside before it finished.
Everyone was in her classroom, too. They stood, greeted the teacher, and bowed before sitting down again.
It was the ghost, then. Kanon felt a spike of irritation. It was just inconsiderate. Hanako-san had no rush, but there were only 10 minutes between each class period for students to use the bathroom. Rude.
It was just getting worse and worse lately. She wasn’t really scared or anything, but the inconveniences and stress of constantly being on edge were adding up. She felt like she hadn’t been well-rested since New Year’s Day.
Kanon quietly reached into her desk and pulled out her pencil case. She unzipped it to hold the small blue charm that she kept inside. It was meant to encourage good luck in her studies, but any kind of Buddhist protection seemed like it could only help.
She scarfed down lunch at her desk and went back to the bathroom. This time, the stall was empty and she was able to use it. As she was washing her hands, Kanon looked up and made eye contact with her own reflection.
She stopped. She leaned in. Without thinking about it, she bought her still-soapy hand up to her face and pulled at the delicate skin over her eye.
There was a round red circle, a small dot below her left eyebrow. It looked like blood. She wiped at it, but it didn’t budge. “It’s under my skin,” Kanon realized, confused and horrified. “What?” She leaned in even further until her breath fogged the glass. She felt like crying.
She slogged through tennis practice, despite being so tired she felt like she was going to collapse. The coach got mad and yelled at her twice for moving sluggishly. Kanon bore it without complaining, because it wouldn’t do any good. She’d told him that she was tired last week, and he’d told get to get off her phone at night and sleep better.
It was dark by the time she parked her bike at home. She practically fell into the sanctuary of her house, so relieved to see her mother that she could just about cry. Mama brushed her hair while they watched tv before dinner.
“We can go to the dermatologist tomorrow,” Mama promised, sensible. “I’ll call you out of school and go to the hospital in the morning. If I drop you off, I’ll need to pick you up, though. What time will practice end tomorrow?”
Kanon leaned into her mother’s touch and tried to remember. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I think 6:00. I’ll ask the coach and call you after school. Is that okay?”
"Yes, that will work.” Mama leaned past her and set the brush down. She picked up her phone and tapped for a moment before setting it back down and standing up with a sigh. “Would you set the table? I’m going to go put up the laundry.”
“Yes, Mama.” She finished the chore quickly. Junko got home from her Junior High School at 7:00, but Dad was late. He was usually in the door right about the same time, if not a little earlier. He came in at 7:40 with a plastic bag and a harried expression. He kissed Mama at the door. She whisked the bag from his grip and sailed away into the kitchen. Kanon heard the sound of the fridge opening and closing before Mama called them all to the table.
“Just a moment, I’m going to wash my hands,” Dad said, nearly tripping over the dog. He banged his leg against the wall and continued without reacting, because that was a common occurrence. Fat old Sakura lifted her head to look and then immediately laid it back down on her paws, bored.
Kanon glanced over to the dog’s bowls, since she was thinking about her. Sakura had plenty of clean water and a bit of food left around the rim of her silver dish.
Dinner was nikujaga, with steamed vegetables and a vinegar salad on the side. Dad opened up the ricecooker to serve himself some rice, because he was too old-fashioned to think it was a meal without white rice. When they finished, Mama darted to the fridge and pulled out the plastic bag. It turned out to have individual portions of fluffy white cake, with fruit piled on top.
Junko grinned, and then glanced at Kanon with a question in her eyes. They both recognized the treat for what it was- an attempt to cheer someone up.
Kanon smiled back and didn’t comment. “Thank you, Mama,” she said, standing to get dessert forks.
“I’m the one who brought dessert home,” Dad said, faux-wounded. “Where’s my thank-you?”
“Thank you, Dad,” Junko said, because she was a good girl even when she knew it was a joke.
“It was definitely Mama,” Kanon said, smirking at her father.
OOOO
She woke up, feeling heavy. She couldn’t quite move, her body taking a moment to catch up with her brain.
Her room stank. It stank like old fish.
And she still couldn’t move. There was no way to know how long it lasted. But it eventually passed, like it always did.
When she could move, she leaned off the bed to tap at her phone. The screen lit up, white numbers blaring 4:05 into the room. She settled back down without turning the screen off, letting the glow illuminate her room as she stared up at the ceiling. She waited, holding her breath for what she knew she’d hear.
Light scratches. The whispering sound of something dragging overhead.
The glow of her phone went off, but the thing living in her ceiling was still stirring. She didn’t close her eyes, afraid of what might happen when she wasn’t watching. She wanted to turn her light on. Kanon had an instinctual sense that light would banish whatever it was, but it would also wake up her parents.
She thought about incense, about the smoke that purified the air outside temples and shrines. Maybe if she filled her room with it, this would stop and she could rest at night.
Eventually, the sound faded. The smell faded, too. The only thing she could hear was wind and the little river behind the house. She fell back to sleep.
OOOO
Kanon avoided looked at Takemoto-san in the yard next door when she left the house with her mother in the morning. She didn’t want to be caught staring off into the air. Ms. Takemoto always seemed to be out there lately, watching over the plants that her husband was not doing a very good job of keeping healthy.
The car ride passed in silence. She was so tired. It felt like she hadn’t slept at all, like all the energy had been sucked out of her body. Kanon was docile and let her mother herd her into the elevator up to the third-floor clinic, moving without thinking about anything.
The dermatologist said it was permanent, harmless, not worth treating, and a one-off issue.
“There’s nothing to do about it?” Kanon said, covering the dot with a finger. It was weird. It made her think of the age spots her grandmother had. Something about looking at the red spot made her feel unsettled and a little afraid.
“We’ll get you some cover-up,” Mama said practically.
The doctor made a humming sound and turned back to the nurse. She used a black pen and a series of stamps to write down the notes he dictated.
"Even for school?” Kanon ventured, knowing she was testing her luck. Makeup was absolutely forbidden.
“If it’s just cover- up on the spot, no one will know.” Mama picked up her purse and led them back out to the reception area to pick up the insurance cards. “We can stop at the drugstore before I take you to school.”
“Can we get a drink from the café next door?”
“Absolutely not,” Mama said, without even considering it. “Unless it’s water or tea. You had enough sugar last night. Have you been drinking coffee again? It might be why you’re not sleeping well.”
Kanon watched her feet and didn’t answer. She couldn’t quite lie to her mother. Hide things, yes. Lie? No. “Tea would be really good,” she said. “A hot one.”
“Alright.” Mama clicked the car doors unlocked and set her purse on the backseat. It didn’t take them long to get to the drugstore and find a high coverage cream that matched Kanon’s face. Mama dabbed it on with her pinky finger and let Kanon check it with the rearview mirror before they left the parking lot.
She made it into the classroom to the first half of second period, which was math class. She hated math, but she was lucky to be there. Missing math class was the absolute worst, because that meant she never understood the homework and she’d be confused and behind until they moved on to a new chapter. She got scolded once, for a uniform violation, but she pulled the nametag out of her pocket and put it on.
Thinking was so tiring that she just about cried. But she got through it, doggedly taking notes and following directions until 6th period ended. She dashed to ask Funakoshi-sensei what time practice would end, and then used the phone in the entryway to call her mom before she changed for practice. She took off the nametag and tucked it away.
They started off by running line drills. Back and forth. She felt like she was going to be sick. She really did cry, biting down on her lip to try to focus. Just 10 more. Just 9 more. Just -
She was on her back. The fluorescent lights in the gym were painful to look at.
“Miyamoto-san, get the nurse, please,” Funakoshi-sensei was saying. “Ko-san, lead drills. Yamada-san, are you awake?”
She made an unhappy sound. “Yes, sensei.”
“Good. Do you feel like you’re going to be sick? Does anything hurt?”
OOOO
After fainting in practice, Kanon had to admit she was over her head. Mama took her to the doctor, who examined her and said that she should have more sports drinks.
Kanon stared off into space, feeling lost. That wasn’t going to help. It wasn’t the heat. It was stress and lack of sleep.
She stayed home from school for 2 days, and she only got worse. By Thursday night, Kanon pretended she was feeling better so that her parents would let her go to school. She put on a brave face and said no, she was fine, she didn’t need a ride to school.
It was slow going on her bike. Her whole body felt heavy. She stopped at the convenience store and dug into her pocket money for a latte. It made her feel a little better. She threw it away and walked slowly back to her bike, watching an upperclassman pass on their way to school. She hesitated, thinking about it. She needed to get going to school. If she was late, they’d call her parents.
But.
She got on her bike, but she turned off the main road.
A few embers were burning in the red container inside the shrine doors. She dug out a coin to pay for an incense stick and lit it up, breathing in the scent. She waved it around, making sure it permeated her clothes and hair to clean off anything that might be clinging to her. When it was done, she pushed the stick into the mounds of ash and went up the stairs. She rang the bells and prayed.
A priest came out and saw her. Light glinted off his bald head when he nodded and then walked away.
Kanon thought about asking him for advice. She thought about asking to buy another charm, this time one meant for protection from evil. But she bowed and then got back on her bike.
She was late for homeroom. Her teacher gave a pointed look to her lapel, but didn’t scold her.
“I’m sorry,” Kanon said quietly. “I felt tired.” She took out her nametag and pinned it on, now that she was in school. She didn’t want to wear it anywhere. She didn’t want the dead people everywhere to know her name the instant that they saw her. But at least there weren’t many ghosts at schoo.
Shimizu-sensei accepted the excuse and looked sympathetic, which only made Kanon feel like a bad person.
She got through school. She got though her club practice as well, but that was mostly because the coach let her sit on the sidelines. She fell asleep at some point, neck cranked uncomfortably back against the cold wall. It was the best rest she’d had in days.
That was why she felt clear-headed when she got on her bike and left school. She didn’t remember thinking about it. Kanon just knew that she was heading back to the temple. She emptied her coin purse at the gate and counted it.
“Sumimasen,” Kanon called, curling her fingers around the dark wood of the countertop. A shadow moved on the wall.
There was shuffling sound from somewhere she couldn’t see, and then a “Hai, just a moment.” A tired-eyed older man in hakama came out. His face lit up when he saw her, as if he was her grandfather and not a priest she had seen in passing once. “Hello, Yamada-san,” he said. His voice was warm. “What brings you here?”
She grabbed at her lapel on reflex, heart thudding. She was still wearing the nametag. She managed a smile. “Hello. I was hoping to get something protective,” Kanon said.
The priest frowned. “Are you planning something dangerous?” he asked.
She shook her head quickly. “No, nothing like that,” Kanon denied. She really didn’t want him tracking down her parents and saying that she might be secretly riding motorcycles or something. “I’ve been seeing a lot of ghosts lately, and I’m….” She trailed off. She didn’t know how to finish it. She felt ridiculous even saying it aloud. A lot of people believed in ghosts. A lot of her classmates did, for sure. But what they talked about was hearing strange things or seeing a flash of movement out of the corner of their eyes. She stared at dead people, and they stared back.
She’d seen her uncle’s ghost, once. He had died in his 50s. It was shockingly early. She didn’t remember much about him, but she remembered his funeral. She remembered having to take her turn passing around the bits of bone that remained after his body was burned. She remembered that he had been watching her while she did it. His eyes had been wild. His hair had been flattened to the side of his head- which was also flat, from hitting the pavement.
She still hadn’t been back to his house. It had been nearly 10 years, now.
The priest took what she said in stride. His suspicious expression melted away, and he slid open the drawer at the back of the display. “Do you want a recommendation?”
“Um.” Kanon glanced at her purse, depleted from secretive coffee runs. “I don’t have a lot of money,” she said uncomfortably. “Will a cheaper one be effective?”
His eyes softened, and he leaned a little further in. “It will work,” he promised. “The prayers inside are the same. The cost is materials.”
Kanon breathed a sigh of relief. She got the cheapest protective omomori there was, and a fistful of incense. She was really supposed to burn it there, she knew, but she only burnt one and then stuck the rest inside her bag.
She went home like she was going to war.
“It’s going to be different today,” Kanon said, kicking out the stand on her bike.
And it was. Not at first. It started off like every other evening. She had dinner, she went to bed, and she woke up in the darkness.
But this time, she could move. The room didn’t stink. Kanon shifted under the covers, flexing and stretching her feet. It felt really good, the pressure and softness of her mattress and covers grounding her.
Something was wrong. It crept up on her in pieces. She felt unsettled. Her heartrate picked up. She looked around, but she saw nothing.
Her breathing was the only sound but something was wrong.
Light. She reached out for her phone. Her fingers brushed it-
And the paralysis hit. She couldn’t turn on the light. She couldn’t pick it up. All she could do was feel her breath go faster and faster.
Scratch.
Her eyes darted to the ceiling. She could hear it, but she couldn’t see anything.
Scratch.
She had the urge to swallow. She couldn’t even do that. She couldn’t even control the muscles in her throat.
Panic seized her. She couldn’t think. She was just afraid.
Something began to form on the ceiling. It didn’t come from anywhere. It was just that something dark began to appear and grow bigger, solid, and still. It brought with it a horrible and familiar scent. It was rot and death and fish. Grave offerings? She wondered wildly. Was that what it was? Was it the stink of old offerings for the dead?
It dropped all at once, and landed on her legs. It was heavy. From the force it hit her with, her bed should have creaked- but it didn’t. It was silent. The only sound was her breathing.
Her mind was white with fear.
The thing reared up. A head and then a face formed out of the smoke. It was also black, but it was bald and shining, with beady red eyes. It had no mouth until it smiled at her, revealing a long, thin tongue.
It elongated and slithered up her body. She felt it press against her. It slipped to her side where she couldn’t see. Something wet touched her cheek.
It took a moment for enough logic to fight the horror to realize that it was the tongue. The monster was licking her. She flinched- at least, she thought she would, but her body was still perfectly still. She couldn’t do anything as the tongue flicked lazily over her face. It touched her eyes, swirled around her ear, and then dragged painfully slowly to her mouth. She wanted so badly to scream. She had never wanted anything that badly in her life. But she didn’t, as the monster put its horrible long tongue in her mouth.
That hurt. She couldn’t see. Her vision went black. She thought it might be from fear and disgust. Dissociating. Was she rational enough to know if she was dissociating? Did wondering if that was what was happening mean that she wasn’t?
Her vision came back. Her other senses became stronger, too. She hadn’t noticed her sense of smell fading but when it came back all at once it was obvious. This time, she noticed a faint hint of the rot in her mouth as well.
The monster was gone. She looked to the ceiling. She could see it dissolving. It was leaving more slowly than it had arrived, fat and sated on whatever it had been eating from her. It gave her one last horrible grin. It was horrible because it was a knowing smile that bared human-looking teeth. It was a promise, she knew. Tomorrow. See you tomorrow. And the next day.
It disappeared. After a few minutes, she heard it. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
When she could finally move, she shot up, gasping. Kanon didn’t try to turn on the light from her phone. She scuttled to the wall, knees against her chest, and panted. Her whole body started shaking violently, like it was making up time for having been so still.
That was when she noticed that she was not alone in the room. Kanon flinched-
But it was Ms. Takemoto. Her back was hunched and the fabric of her apron was twisted and wrinkled, as if she had been pulling and worrying at it. She was kneeling by the bed, with one hand on top of the mattress, and looking straight at Kanon.
Ms. Takemoto’s mouth moved.
Kanon leaned in to hear, but it was no use. The ghost had no voice at all.
Ms. Takemoto flickered. She was much less solid than she had been before, Kanon noticed with a start. The ghost had looked like a living person in daylight. She was translucent now.
“Have you been helping me?” Kanon asked, voice barely a whisper. Ms. Takemoto wouldn’t have been able to hear that in life, but she nodded now. The wrinkled hand on Kanon’s bed flexed, palm up and open.
She scooted over and reached out. She could feel the ghost’s hand when they connected, cold and smooth. There was no texture sensation that matched skin. It was like touching the surface of water.
“Thank you,” she said. She curled her hand around the only person who knew what she was going through. “Thank you.”
Comments
Laura
Wow this is so good! And very creepy! I was hooked on the story almost immediately :)) would love to read more about Kanon and her experiences with ghosts/yokai?
ElectricMaehem
Yeah I’m into Japanese monsters and ghosts lately and wOW the material gets disturbing
Diana
Very creepy! Poor Kanon :-(
