I know perhaps you people aren't into this sort of stuff. This is the first chapter of a story I am writing in my free time. I won't be giving any summaries here - This is a horror story that's all I'm telling and it's just the first chapter and just in the draft stage. It's rather kiddish but I'd appreciate if some of you would read this and tell me if you want to read further or if it just is a tad bit boring. If I get a positive, I'll write further; if not I'd probably drop it. And sorry for bad grammar or spelling mistakes, if any. I'd appreciate if you can point them out - English isn't my first language.
Unusual
Chapter 1: A joke
Japan is a place full of extraordinary things; cosplay, cuisine, lifestyle and much more. But have you ever wondered what is unusual to such a tolerant and (no offense intended!) weird society?
Could it be something as simple as a teenager moving from New York to a small, unknown town near Kyoto? YUP.
My parents and I just shifted from our old place in Manhattan and decided to stay in some creepy old town called ‘Kuchisake’. We would’ve moved to Tokyo or any other big city in the island but we just didn’t want to pay taxes. This town is unlisted and no one has to pay any remissions to the government here.
For all our, and the Japanese governments know, we don’t exist.
To the best of my knowledge, Kuchisake means slit-throat. I know that from all those ‘slit mouthed woman’ urban legends revolving around the internet. My parents enrolled me in an international school which is mostly filled with Japanese students who can speak English fluently.
That’s unusual too.
The villa I’m staying in is a great change from my old flat in NYC. It’s already furnished, but the things are antique and to be honest, terrifying. I mean, my room belonged to some little girl before me and there is an entire collection of Japanese playing dolls with there eyes poked out just beside the door.
People think guys aren’t scared of bugs and creepy crawly things but I find those DISGUSTING. And this place has like a factory of those.
I digress. Anyway, back to what Japanese people found unusual. I have been getting these glares from people whenever I walk in public. Girls look at me, whisper, and giggle, guys nod their head and size me up and down, old men and women either slow down or speed up rather than walk beside me.
Even adults divert their eyes when I make eye contact. I mean, everyone does that but my situation is different.
It’s almost as I’m part of some game or some silly prank and they are all just bystanders who aren’t supposed to let the cat out of the bag.
My room has a torn ‘princess’ bed, faded pink draperies and lavender floor rugs. Apart from a shattered tea party set at a small table with a broken leg, it includes a dusty white cabinet and a large pastel pink closet. The wallpaper is torn and the ceiling looks like it’s about to crumble. The half attached ceiling fan doesn’t make it any better.
All the sockets are terribly burnt out, just like the bulbs and the lamps. My parents told me to only keep my stuff there; renovations are about to happen. And by renovations they mean minimal and essential replacements of basic necessities. My father will install a plumbing and electricity system and replace all sockets. I sigh, knowing I have to make the ACTUAL renovations myself.
We will have dinner at another American family’s house. They too, have just moved but are living at a much better facilitated apartment.
“Can you guys at least tell me who they are?” I rolled my eyes when I heard the news. They giggled and refused, only revealing that they are someone I know.
I’m allowed to go out and interact with people but I don’t think anyone will really want to.
Oh wait.
Apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Yokozaki Hiroshi. That, obviously, isn’t my real name but you know what they say about being in Rome. I’m an all rounder, great at academics and sports. I don’t mean to brag but I’ve also won four national championships in Taek Won Do.
See? I know something about Japan.
I’m a junior who had dreams of going to Harvard, but that is probably farfetched now, considering that the school I’m going to isn’t exactly registered anywhere. And I also risk revealing the embezzlement my parents are committing if I go to an Ivy League school miles away. My hopes are that they’ll bribe the Harvard people with the money they’re stealing.
I look at the shattered framed photographs on the broken bedside table. A girl is holding a balloon in one hand and her mother’s finger in another. I can’t make out their faces due to the cracks but I can make out the date that has been written in the bottom left corner.
26th September, 1912.
I take a step back.
That’s today. I mean, not the year obviously, but the month and the day. Unusual.
Actually, everything about the picture is unusual. It looks like someone specifically cracked the area around their faces. I can say the same about the entire room. There are claw marks on the wallpaper, and doll heads don’t just pop out themselves. I start thinking whether this room belonged to a psychotic little girl.
I take a deep breath and set the picture aside. I swore I wouldn’t indulge in criminal investigations after what happened last time.
I open my suitcase and look through briefs and other clothes to find a silver framed photograph. A gleeful 10 year old girl, with sharp silver-grey eyes and sunlight fair skin is standing arm in arm with a reluctant boy of the same age. The boy has olive skin, black hair and brown eyes. The girl’s other arm is around a younger version of me, a chubby kid with glasses and braces.
That’s Lia and Athos. They’re my childhood friends. Athos died in a freak accident a few days after the picture was taken and Lia and her family went missing.
I will never forget the three till my dying day.
I think of removing the other picture’s frame to make out how the girl looks like but I refrain myself.
Not again. Never again.
Just when I’m about to zip my bag again, I notice more bundles of memories. These pictures are also of me, Lia, and Athos. One of them show us three, wet from falling into the pond, with grass under our feet. Athos was even more annoyed than usual. At the time, I didn’t think that was even possible. Only Lia smiled the brightest, her crinkled silver eyes adding substance to the photo. I, on the other hand was shivering and crying.
Way to make memories, Hiroshi.
That was when Athos’ elder brother spoiled our planned picnic and loosened rabbits on us. I was dead scared of rabbits so I yelled “MONSTERS!” and ran towards the pond, holding Athos’ wrist. Lia also shrieked and followed us, but that was probably because she liked to have fun.
But there is no point thinking about things that could never me. I, obviously, try to hate the two for leaving me, I try to forget but something keeps telling me that they’re important.
Maybe that’s because they are.
There are more photographs, all more painful than the former, but they still bring a smile to my face. Athos and I sometimes had great times without Lia. I mean, Athos never really had fun (although I think I saw him laughing once) but he was my only ‘guy’ friend. Everyone else would make fun of my weight and braces but Athos would just drag me away. Lia was in another school but I bet she would’ve too.
I see a photograph of me and Athos in an amusement park. We were on a roller coaster but none of us were amused, mind you. Athos and I had snuck in even though he told me to ‘not go for the girl who is out of your league’ but I told him it’d be fun.
I always wanted to have fun but I spoiled it halfway by crying and having the administrators stop the ride and call my parents.
I am nothing like that silly boy anymore. I put the pictures back in the briefcase and zip it up without a second glance.
I decide to head out, so I zip my varsity jacket up (I know, who wears those anymore?).
The exterior of my house is big and again, faded and torn. I see my room through the window of the floor below the attic. The glass is shattered, giving me a clearer view of the scene through the scratched curtains.
For a second I think I saw a figure looming over the photograph but it’s probably just shadows of the dead tree outside.
The porch looks like a graveyard without tombstones. I mean, dead grass, dead leaves, dead- IS THAT A CROW?! My grandmother once said seeing dead crows is the worst omen ever but I mean, she wasn’t really into logic and all so I disregarded her.
But shit.
I look away and turn to the other side, walking past the unharmed fence and creaky black gate. Almost everything except the fence and gate is damaged, invoking uncontrollable curiosity in my mind. Why? I shut my eyes and ignore it.
The house is in the boundaries of the forest so I have to walk for two minutes through a narrow path to reach a proper road. The autumn leaves have fallen everywhere, making it difficult to follow the path but I’m good at memorizing ways. My parents are out at a retail store to buy some (tax-free) bolts and screws.
I soon reach the main market area, with cafes, restaurants and some other stores. They are mostly filled with young girls and boys but there are some adults too. I quickly slide into one of the stores before they can notice me.
Aaaand the store belongs to crazy cat lady. It’s filled with potions, herbs and some oddish scrolls. The lighting is dull and yellow and the incense is (sniff sniff) rose.
“Oh, I was expecting you!” she says in an old lady voice with an Asian accent. Her cat purrs at me. The lady is wearing a black and white Kimono and her hair is tied into a bun. Need I say how she looks like? Pure and undoubtedly Japanese.
And she was expecting me? Oh god, why? I mean it’s cool when people from the Yakuza say that but it’s creepy when old ladies who run a witch supplies store say it. “Um… what?” I utter awkwardly.
There are other people in the store, mostly teenage girls, now staring at me. The only one who doesn’t stare at me is the person in the black hoodie, whose face I can’t see. ‘It’ (since I don’t want to assume anyone’s gender) is looking through the ‘herbs’ sections, not bothered by anything else going on.
I decide to ask why people stare at me so much. “What is up with you guys? Am I part of a joke I don’t know about?”
Everyone murmurs and then bursts out laughing. What’s so funny?
“No, silly!” says a pretty girl with curly red hair and black, almond eyes. She is wearing a lot of makeup and the uniform of my new school, Kuchisake High International. Her accent is actually pretty good. “You’re here because you live in that house, aren’t you?”
“Wait, what?” I have never been more confused.
The old lady explains to me that the house I live in is apparently haunted. I found that to be complete bullshit. How would they know? That house hasn’t been touched since 1912. “I’m sure you’re all mistaken by the looks of it.” I try.
“The last family who lived there got murdered.” Another highly make-upped girl argues.
I laugh. Okay, so they really are joking. “That was 1912.”
Everyone murmurs something in Japanese. My favorite person in the room is the hood person, who is now examining the Frankincense bottle carefully.
“Uh, no.” says a young boy with an ‘Ash Ketchum’ cap on backwards. I notice that he’s not really Asian. By his accent, I’d say he’s from Australia. “They were here a month back. I mean, since 1912, there must be like fifty families who have stayed there.”
“And all have been murdered.” Adds another girl wearing a skirt shorter than my ankle socks.
“But…” I begin, confused. Did the families stay in that worn out dusty place? I think of what I should ask “Did they bring their own furniture?”
“Yes.” Answers the old lady. All the girls in the room started texting, or tweeting about the boy who lives at the haunted house. “You must have a lot of furniture there. The previous family did marvelous decorations too.”
“Then… what happened to the furniture from 1912?”
Everyone turns dead silent. The pretty girl looks at me pitifully. “It was burned when the house was, in 1912…” she stuttered. Now all gazes turned curious. I know that this will create a hurricane but I have to ask “Then why is it all still there?”
Now, I don’t know what happened but in a few moments, the entire store is filled with curious teenagers, adults and old people alike. I notice that the hood person is gone.
“You bring me good business!” chimes the pleased old lady.
They pester me with questions, all in perfect English. They must know it because a few people in the illegal town are foreigners.
“What about the beautiful decorations the previous family put up? Are those gone too?”
“Did you see the ghosts yet?”
“Are you here to get rid of disturbances?”
They surround me on all sides, almost suffocating me. A soft hand takes my wrist and drags me outside. I see that it belongs to the hood person. Upon closer inspection, I see that my favorite person is actually a girl. Her thick bangs cover her entire eyes and her entire body is covered with black clothing.
I want to thank her but she seems scared to even be with me. “S-sorry.” She stammers in a high pitched voice. She runs away but I manage to yell out “THANKS!” to her. She stops for a second and goes around the corner of the street.
I sprint back to the house after looking at the time in my pocket watch. It’s almost time for dinner.
Even the watch brings back memories. I don’t know what to push away; what everyone is talking about or the memories.
I choose to push away the memories. It’s too painful to think about what happened to Athos. Sometimes I want to throw away everything that connects me to the time but I just can’t.
Now, the furniture thing’s a little creepy but I think someone put it there as a prank. Even though the furnishing is very peculiar. I’m not sure about the deaths. I think that some serial killer murders everyone who lives there in the exact same way as the original murders to carry on the legacy.
Now, I won’t rule out the possibility it’s haunted. Lia was the one who just loved the ‘other world’, always calling me and Athos over to play with Ouija boards. Athos never came, and they never worked, but sometimes Lia would just scare me.
Back to the present. I think I’ll talk to my parents about it. When I actually reach the infamous villa, I see my parents waiting for me there, with a Mercedes Benz with them. When you don’t have to pay taxes, you can get real great stuff.
I confront them about the haunted tales.
“Oh pish posh!” Mom swats her hand. Her ‘stage name’ was Ella Hiroshi. I mean, Ella is her real name and I don’t really see the point. Only an Ella will say ‘pish posh’. “Stories will be stories.” Mom is dressed in a red cocktail gown, with her blond hair tied in a bun. Her green eyes have a beautiful eyeliner, and her lips have a gorgeous bright red color. Mom usually prefers remaining plain- I have never seen her this dolled up since seven years.
My dad, however, decides to go plain, not even bothering to wear a tie. His name is Okanawa Hiroshi. I told him that Okanawa is actually a name of a place but he began a story about his friends ‘Kentucky’ and ‘Washington’. I share his black hair, just like I share my mom’s green eyes.
“Are you two sure you’re wearing that?” she asks, pointing to out clothes.
My father sighs, and then nods. My mom sighs back and we start up the car. I take the back seat and my mother drives.
I tell them about the furniture. I see them frown through the rearview mirror. “I haven’t heard that before.” Murmurs my dad. My mom talks about how we can’t let go of the great deal.
The outside streets are lit up with tinsels and store lights. We reach a luxury apartment complex and park in the wide parking space.
When I say luxury, I mean luxury. There’s a golf course, a tennis stadium, and is that a polo field?
OH MY GOD, HORSES.
As the Japanese say it, my kokoro is going doki doki. There is also garden, a park with a full swingset, around four swimming pools, and so much more. The building itself is ten floors tall, and it is more lavish than any other building I’ve ever seen. “And you know how many people live here?” my mom giggles, as if she is reading my mind. I assume around fifty or at most hundred. “TEN.”
I legitimately start losing breath. Ten? One for each floor? I immediately ask them why we can’t live here.
Dad laughs “These are the people who save our ass. They pay taxes.”
Okay, now I’m confused. If this town is unlisted, how do they pay taxes?
“It’s too complicated for you to understand, honey.” Mom finishes.
“No, no. It’s not.” I say, with immediate realization. “They bribe those who find out, don’t they?”
Mom smirks. “More than that.”
We go in the glass door and notice a wonderful lobby with a receptionist, like there would be in a hotel. Mom signs in our name and we walk through gold statues, aquariums and plants to the shiny black elevator. Floor 3.
Even the elevator music is quality.
However, when we reach, the door doesn’t open. I notice a CCTV camera at the top right corner turning at us. “Let them in.” A voice from the other side says.
The door automatically opens. I try not to hyperventilate from the super amazing voice recognition system they have but a kooky smile slips out.
It all fades when I see who the people standing in front of me are.
The couple is richly dressed in matching velvet pastels. The man is tall, muscular and has a sharp and neat, black beard on his handsome face. His hair is as I remembered from years ago, combed and short, only with little specks of grey in it.
The woman is also very beautiful, though her face is much more tired and wrinkled than I remember. Her short hair is now in a bob but her plastered pink smile is the same.
Both their eyes are more tired and weary than I remember.
I then notice the third figure, standing behind them.
After I recognize who it is, all the great ornaments and furnishing of the flat blurs and my eyes focus on that person.
I gasp.
Is this some sort of a joke?
