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Shin Hyakuji High School Tvtropes
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
| Shiroi Onryō; Call of Cthulhu-related Fiction | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: May 23 2012, 01:46 AM (236 Views) | |
| Hiro_Tsukasa | May 23 2012, 01:46 AM Post #1 |
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NICE DRIVE!
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Played in a Call of Cthulhu game for the first time ever on Monday. It's a sequel campaign to something the GM already started and also a sister-game to one he is running set in the 1920's. GM told us it was going to be a modern day (2012) game set in New York City and would likely involve time travel to some degree. I show up expecting that and instead we're running a "Prologue" set in the 90's and also in Tokyo. The events of which would be related to the overall plot. Had a blast. My guy was the sole survivor. Started writing a small IC account as a story summary. It became an 8k short story. Not a perfectly 100% polished draft. This has now been updated to a v2 that is edited for consistency with the plot of the campaign Just wanted to share: Shiroi Onryō Of the exact circumstances that brought the three of us together that day I cannot be certain. Whether it was by sheer misfortune or the whim of some cosmic force I cannot reason. Despite the passage of time, the best therapy money can buy and hours of rationalizing what I saw that day I cannot shake the memories. Now, one year later, even as I try to move on I find my mind drifting back to the events that occurred in that terrible house. The clouds in the sky feel gloomy and sullen just as they did on that day. I am writing this account perhaps as a means of making peace. I want to think I can put it to page and be done with it all. I was never much of a writer though I fancied myself as one in my younger days. I write this from the best of my memory. If you are reading this now, then perhaps even you are best spared that which I cannot recall in greater detail. Of myself, there is little out of the ordinary to speak of. Born in Sapporo, Hokkaido I was the son of a family with little repute. I was named Kazama after my great-grandfather; a man I never had the chance to meet. The Godai family was an unimportant element within Sapporo. The lack of our entire line would have done little to change the course of events in the area. Most of my ancestors settled for menial labor and yet I was an exception. From a young age, I was taken to the sciences and upon graduating high school found myself becoming a first among my family as I enrolled in Tokyo University; intending to learn both medicine and physics. It was there that I first met Taro Yamaguchi: a professor of archaeology and history. While I merely took several of his courses as electives in a passing interest, I could not deny that his reputation among campus was well deserved. The man held a certain rapport among campus and was known both for his engaging classes and his dedication towards students. Professor Yamaguchi was particularly taken with the study of ancient cults and what more traditional students might deem radical subject matters. Yet this only added both to the air of mystery about his courses and his popularity. To be brief, despite my firm grounding in science even I became enchanted by his classes. I spent more years at Tokyo University than I feel like revealing. As I began to move into Doctorate work, one of my published papers from a previous course netted me my first important career. I was hired on as a corporate researcher for the Yotsubishi Group. They need little explanation. Well known all throughout Japan, the Yotsubishi Group is perhaps the classic definition of a zaibatsu. They have held divisions involved in everything from military contracting to pharmaceuticals going back to the Meiji Era. I proved to be something of a prodigy in my division and was quickly promoted and tasked onto several research teams; though my primary work remained in the pharmaceutical division developing and testing various new drugs. It was not long before I found myself with a rather good place in life. At the age of only 32, I found myself with a yearly income near twenty million yen. From Tokyo University, I held PhD’s in both medicine and physics. Along the way I had married a close friend from my initial years in college named Yumi. We had dated on and off, but things never seemed to last long. It seemed to have been a case of poor timing and yet in the end everything worked out. We began to live together at a lavish apartment in the Nerima Ward of Tokyo supplied by the Yotsubishi Group. They were quite good to me. Aside from the apartment, they frequently covered any supplies for my research projects. I had also been appointed a company van for use and granted a company debit card to be utilized with project expenses as well. This is not to say my life had become totally dominated by my work. Since high school I had developed a slight talent for painting. I haven't painted in some time recently, but then it was something I enjoyed doing. Yumi urged me to pursue it further, but my research left little time to fully hone my skills any further. Still, life felt good. At the age of 32 I had become the most successful of the Godai family as far back as history could reveal. I had a good job, good pay, someone I loved and everything seemed to be settling into place. Perhaps then, it was my complacency with life that left me ill-prepared for what occurred. I still remember that day. May 21st, 1990. The day everything in my life changed. *** My division had currently been in the preliminary stage of testing a new drug that the Yotsubishi Group was hoping to push hard in marketing campaigns for the coming fall season. Things were tense due to the strict deadline, but having always been a level-headed and calm person I took the work in stride. My co-workers tended to consider me the glue that held us all together. Late in the afternoon, having finished my work for the day, I began on my way back home. The route to my apartment typically involved cutting through the campus of Tokyo University and it was here that I just happened to notice Professor Yamaguchi while stopping at a crosswalk to allow several students to pass. I found myself filled with nostalgia. I knew Yumi was busy visiting with family and would not be back home till late in the evening. Accepting this situation, I decided to park and catch up with my former teacher. After parking the company van, I had just enough time to take note of Professor Yamaguchi being escorted inside the building where his office resided by a larger man about my age. The expensive sleek black suit and dark sunglasses he wore all but shouted his less than reputable occupation. And yet, I recognized the man. His name was Kido. We had both attended Tokyo University at the same time and been enrolled in Professor Yamaguchi's class together as well. We were not close. Kido and I had worked together on a presentation for the class, but out contact was brief. We were from different worlds and did not mesh well. It seemed nothing had changed since then. I had heard stories and rumors, from colleagues who I gained in my time studying at the university, that Kido had joined the ranks of a rather infamous Yakuza family. I did not need another look to realize that the reality of his occupation was obvious. Yet, I found myself confused. Was Kido catching up with the Professor as well? He did not strike me as the type to care. Against better judgment, I followed them inside. By the time I caught up they had entered Professor Yamaguchi's office, but the door was slightly cracked open. Huddling carefully at the door, I was able to hear their conversation. “Taro-san,” Kido had spoke with an air of disappointment, “You know why I am here.” “I... I know,” Professor Yamaguchi answered with an air of hesitation, “Here, just take it. I have your money.” “This is not everything,” Kido answered plainly as if this were merely another business deal. “What are you talking about?” the Professor questioned in disbelief, “Five thousand yen. That's the payment you agreed to.” “That, Taro-san, is the payment when you are on time,” Kido explained with a sly chuckle, “You're late. Again. You know what this means.” “Here here, take it, take it all!” Professor Yamaguchi shouted in frustration. I heard a cluttering sound follow. The Professor must have thrown more yen at the thug and Kido was scrambling to pick it all up. It was at this point I considered knocking up the door and making my entrance. However, this desire was cut short by the sudden ringing of the Professor's telephone. I paused as I heard the Professor answer introducing himself and asking if the caller was okay. I did not hear more of the conversation. The next sound I heard moments later was the Professor hanging up the phone. “Who was it?” Kido asked with an unrefined air of rudeness. “One of my students,” Professor Yamaguchi answered sounding very confused, “Or so I thought. Something's not right...” I then heard movement towards the door and feeling uneasy, I began to back off. Seconds later, Professor Yamaguchi exited the office with Kido following several feet behind. As he began to move through the hallway I approached the Professor and introduced myself. He easily recalled me and, in fact, had heard about some of my work for the Yotsubishi Group. Apologizing for prying, I questioned why he seemed so rushed; his eyes were filled with a sense of urgency. Professor Yamaguchi explained to me that recently one of his top students in a class he had been teaching stopped turning up. Her name was Kayako Yamamura. For the past few weeks she had attended no classes, even those outside of the Professor's, and every attempt to contact her had resulted in no reply from her house. In the past few days Professor Yamaguchi had considered making a house call to check up on her, but now he was convinced it was vital to see how she was doing. When I questioned what had changed, he mentioned the phone call that he had just received. The CID displayed the number for Kayako's house. However, when the Professor answered the phone there was no answer to his words. A second later he began to hear a hideous sound. The Professor explained to me as a sort of death rattle; yet it was held out far too long to be typical. The slow droning almost buzzing-like sound had chilled Professor Yamaguchi to his core. He fully intended to head over to Kayako Yamamura's house and ensure that she was okay. Fool that I was, I offered to accompany him. It was at this point that Kido, who had been hovering about our conversation the entire time, offered to come along as well. He mentioned something regarding a personal code about protecting his investments. I guess there really is honor even among thieves. Having the most space and the closest vehicle, I convinced my companions to allow me to drive us there in my company van. Kayako Yamamura's house was located in the Nerima Ward not 15 minutes from my apartment complex. Along the way, Kido had called a man he named Hojo requesting six men after giving them the address for Kayako's house. Hojo was apparently a close subordinate of Kido's. Oddly enough, Kido referred to himself as Ichiyama. I never had a chance to learn its significance. Perhaps some code or a nickname. Regardless, it doesn't matter now. *** The Yamamura house rested at the end of a short road which came to a cul-de-sac. However, their house did not rest along the cul-de-sac itself. From there, a small walkway led back further off to the side where a large house rested lonely by itself. Closest to the walkway we found two BMW's parked haphazardly which Kido identified as “his men.” However, they were not in sight. Kido called Hojo once more, but nobody answered. Again, against better judgment, I followed Professor Yamamura as we made out way with Kido towards the house. The house itself was well built. You could tell it was old and yet somebody had cared enough to invest the time and money remodeling it to modern standards. Curiously, we found the front door not only unlocked but wide open. Cautiously, we entered and while the Professor and I removed our shoes Kido boldly stepped further on into the entrance way. If any of the Yamamura's were present it seemed he had no respect for their home. “Yamamura-san!” I called out along with the Professor as we joined Kido in the entrance way. “Hojo!” Kido called out angrily, “Kenji!?” With the disappearance of his “men” it seemed Kido's interests had become more personal in nature. With no replies, we decided to further search through the house for any sign of Kayako or Kido's men. Kido, drawing a small handgun from inside his suit jacket, instantly made for the stairs which in a unique choice of design raised to a landing, curved to the right and went up to another landing and then curved back and up more again to the second floor. At the entrance to the second floor hallway a banister rested allowing one a clear view down to the first floor. Noticing a kitchen off to the side, Professor Yamaguchi said he intended to check there and I offered to explore the room opposite where we stood after entering the house. The room I had entered, or what was left of it, seemed to be the living room. Picture frames lay broken with glass strewn everywhere. Everything was broken. The couch itself was buried in its own stuffing as if some lunatic had taken a large knife and gutted it. I couldn't help but feel a chill work over me at the sight. And it got worse. At the far end of the room was a paper-screen door. Resting before it was a large red stain on the floor. With my own education it was rather easy to examine. There was no doubt in my mind the stain was from blood. Cautiously, I opened the screen door and entered into a darkened room. In fact, the room seemed eerily dark. It was almost as if the very light that could have existed in the room was being choked out. Even what light was available from the dimly lit living room provided no illumination. Carefully, I began to feel along the wall to my left seeking a light switch. As I fumbled around, I suddenly felt a chilling cold at the back of my hand. It was almost as if a person who had been near frozen reached out to take my hand. Instinctively, I pulled back fearing the source of this sensation. At the first second I began to move my arm, the lights of the room flicked on and I screamed at the top of my lungs. There in the center of the room was a man dressed much like Kido. However, his throat had been slit and his stomach gutted as if by some long blade. No number of movies I had seen could prepare me for this sight. My head spun and gasping with fright I stumbled back against the corner of the wall where the door would normally close. The room itself was mostly barren. At the side of the room that would be the back edge of the house rested another, slightly larger, paper-screen door that seemed to lead out into the backyard. The room itself held some candles and mostly had a traditional design. Even the walls and floors were different almost resembling a dojo of sorts. By some of the various trinkets littered around the room I could only conclude it was used for meditation. As I began to calm down, I made my way back into the living room all the while calling out for Professor Yamaguchi. The Professor joined me before I reached the opening back into the entrance way. He was carefully wiping the edge of his mouth clean. Yamaguchi explained to me that the kitchen was barren of anything important. It was in poor shape and some of the chairs had been broken and trash was strewn everywhere. This was of course barring some rotting food in the pantry. He admitted that in his old age his stamina was not what it had once been and he failed to keep his composure. In another time, another place, some other day we could have had a good laugh. But not this day. Careful to avoid giving him the same fright I had experienced, I told the Professor about my findings. I suggested that we contact the police. A man had been murdered; it was likely more were dead as well. Yamaguchi agreed with my assessment and made for the phone. However, we quickly discovered due to the lack of a dial tone and tracing the point of origin for the phone line that it had long since been cut. This was puzzling for the Professor. Not even a full thirty minutes ago he had received a call from this house. Unable to contact any form of help, we decided to look for Kido. We knew he was armed and surely had experience in dealing with hostile people. The plan was simple; or it should have been. Find Kido and leave. Contact the police immediately and let them handle things. If only it had worked out like that. As we reached the top of the stairs we continued to call out for Kido; we received no reply. From further down the hall we heard a noise. Wondering if it happened to be our gun-toting companion, we continued down the hall ignoring the first door that sat opposite to the top of the steps. Further down the hall we found two doors opposite one another. One was more modern in design. Professor Yamaguchi took this door and I decided to check the opposite room. Within, I discovered what I could only conclude was the master bed room. However, unlike the other rooms we had explored so far this one was in pristine condition. It was almost unnerving how perfect in shape it was; especially compared to the rest of the house. I searched the room as if desperately seeking some cause for its perfect condition and I made a startling discovery. Sitting atop the desk in the corner of the room was a laptop the likes of which I had never seen before. Beside it rested a small brick-like, yet thin, device that seemed to primarily have its face composed of a screen. Examining the laptop further I noticed a logo seemingly indicating its maker: HP. Puzzled, I flipped the laptop over to examine the bottom and it was there, among the small sticker that listed manufacturer info, that I felt the bottom of the world around me merely drop out. I could not believe what I saw, but there it was plain as day. The year the laptop I was holding had been made was 2011. Was this really a piece of technology from twenty-one years in the future? Puzzled and a little frightened, I snatched up the brick-like device and examined it further. With a bit of luck I managed to turn it on. It appeared to be a sort of cellular phone; though much more compact in size compared to anything I had seen. More puzzling was that it seemed to operate not through an assortment of face buttons to input numbers, but via the screen itself. It used some sort of touch-based technology. To be honest, I was marveled with its design. Whether it was real or not, I could believe it was from the future. As I began to master its use, I checked an area marked “Contacts” which seemed to hold a list of user programmed numbers that could be easily accessed; it seemed to be something akin to a pocket phone book. Inside, I saw many names I did not recognize. Someone called Willem. The name Jack Harper. Further on I began to see more familiar names. Kenji and Hojo. Was it a coincidence or were they the acquaintances of Kido? Further on I found names and numbers I recognized. Several of the scientists that were well respected among the Yostsubishi Group were listed within. Even the director of my division had an entry. What was going on? A chill rushed over my body once more and yet at the same time I had an undying urge to know the truth. Sitting down at the desk, I opened the laptop and after a moment of examining the various buttons turned it on. It was truly unlike anything I had seen before. The Yotsubishi Group provided me with a laptop for use in my research, but this was so very different. As it booted up, I was greeted with a large logo screen declaring the title Windows Seven. I recognized the name. Windows was an operating system being developed in America. However, I had not heard of something like this. After fully booting up, I was greeting with a log-in screen. A small box had two spots to enter both a user-name and password. The user-name had apparently been saved to the system: LengYamamura2. I was a learned and reasonable man. Still, in the course of my work at the Yotsubishi Group, I had acquired various important skills to get the job done. It took several minutes, but with time I managed to work out the rather simple password that had been registered. It was work I might have expected to take days even with help. At the time, I thought I was lucky. Looking back it was another red flag suggesting I should have already walked away. I do not like to dwell on it, but maybe I was always meant to figure out the password. The laptop itself was remarkable. Rather than a system based on command prompts, it had been developed as a system using the selection of visual icons which opened various window-like frames. One was able to open multiple windows at the same time and even navigate between them. Much of it was interesting, but I reasoned there would be time for further research later. Checking the main screen, a certain folder icon labeled in English caught my eye. I had begun learning the language for the sake of my job, but my skill was not that great. It took a moment or two, but I managed to work out the word. It was labled: HARPER. I recalled that Harper had been one of the names discovered among the Contacts list. Inside, were various icons that opened as documents filled with text. Some seemed to be copies of newspaper clippings and still others seemed to just be some sort of research writing. They discussed a man named Jack Harper. A man who seemed to exist from the 1920's and on to today; even beyond. Perhaps, it is more fair to say it was not a single man so much as a family. A family with a legacy. A family where every male bore the name Jack Harper. The First had quickly become a profitable industrialist in America and through the generations the family's fortune grew to unbelievable heights. In more recent years, the Jack Harper of my generation had become well known for his acts of philanthropy. The last few entries talked about Jack Harper in the year 2011. The writer of the document seemed to believe he held some ties to a sort of secret intelligence agency. Yet whether this agency held any ties to America's government was uncertain. As I poured over this information, I felt as if my mind was spinning. The room itself swirled around me and yet I was entranced at the center of the spiraling madness spawned from these devices; technology seemingly from the future. Pulled by the whirling gyre, my eyes continued to be drawn into the mystery. At the end of the document discussing this agency a single question was left though it bore little meaning to me: SCP? What was it? Some sort of code? The possible name of this agency the document referenced? I had to know more. I had to know the truth. If these devices were just a hoax then they were elaborate enough to have even fooled a man of science like myself. As I began to inspect the laptop further, I was joined by Professor Yamaguchi. With an air of maddening excitement, I explained to the Professor what I had discovered. My rational mind wanted to conclude they were some sort of devices that had been designed as props. Even today the name haunts me. I find my mind scanning for it in newspapers and pondering its significance. Sometimes, I wake in the middle of the night unable to find rest. All I can do is lay about and wonder: Who is Jack Harper? Yet the validity of both the laptop and phone-like device were far too clear to be ignored. No hoax could program an OS as advanced as what I had witnessed. Professor Yamaguchi informed me that the other room had been a bedroom of some sorts. However, he had been immediately distracted by the bed itself; which had been drenched completely in blood. Once he had the nerve to explore further he discovered that the closet of the room had a small entrance to an attic. We had gone too far at this point. Something was clearly not right. Between the murders, the odd scenery and the devices that I had discovered the Professor and I knew we had to leave. But what had happened to the third member of our little group? “Here,” Kido appeared grunting as he tossed a small notebook down onto the large bed in the center of the room. When we inquired where he had been, Kido explained that he had entered that first door one comes to after ascending the stairs. Inside he found one of his men, Kenji, dead after having his throat slit. The room was virtually torn asunder and matched the condition of the kitchen and living room. From there was a door into an adjoined room that would have been directly above the living room. He explored it as well finding it pitch black with the lights unable to turn on. Kido said he had cautiously backed out of the room only to have something drop down on his arms. He tossed it back into the other room and in the light saw it was a small book. It seemed to be a journal. Then he had went back out into the hallway and as he came down the hall overheard our conversation. As I continued to experiment with laptop and phone-like device, Professor Yamaguchi began to skim the journal. He quickly identified it as belonging to Kayako Yamamura, the young woman we were looking for, but there was a glaring and illogical problem. The early entries were dated to the 1920's. Thumbing through further, the dates seemed to advance on and on throughout the years until 1990. As the Professor mulled over the information he mentioned various locations in America that Kayako had written about being in. A place called Kingsport. Some time later she was at Columbia University in New York City studying. Here the journal referenced a professor named Pearson and even a Jack Harper; likely one that had also been mentioned in the files I discovered on the laptop. Throughout the journal, Kayako referred to a man named Willem. Another of the unfamiliar names that I had encountered in the phone-like device. Kayako always spoke fondly of this man every time his name was mentioned. It seemed as though he were a close friend or perhaps, more likely, meant even more to her. As the Professor reached more recent entries, the journal mentioned Kayako being in Tokyo. The passages became more vague and less coherent. Several mentioned that she could no longer leave this house; as if bound to it like you hear in old ghost stories. Eventually, she began to kill anyone who entered the house. When new people moved in. Even just when people visited. It was rare for anyone to enter and leave the house alive. Kayako gave little reasoning for her actions in the journal; baring a scant reference to the fact that these people would not and could not help her. Not any longer. As he reached the final pages, Professor Yamaguchi turned white and stumbled back sitting on the bed with discomfort. The next to last entry talked about Kido's men, led by Hojo, entering the house. Kayako spoke about how she used various sounds to separate the group and killed them one by one saving Hojo for the last in the attic. The final entry talked about our own entry into the house. I will never forget the uneasiness in Professor Yamaguchi's voice as he read that last passage: “I killed Kido as he came to the attic hoping to save the loyal Hojo. Then, I killed Yotsubishi's Researcher at the stairs as he tried to flee. Then,” Stammering for the words, the Professor mentioned there was a small mark after that suggesting more was to be written but Kayako had stopped there. In disbelief of the situation, I think, Kido scoffed at the words the Professor had read. “So he's been cowering in the attic all this time, eh?” Kido questioned as he raised his handgun and exited the master bed room moving towards the closet located directly across the hall. Professor Yamaguchi and I both called out after him, but he seemed hell-bent on finding Hojo. Their friendship must have been very strong or Hojo was vital to Kido's shady business practices. Worried, the Professor chased after Kido while I began to shut down the laptop. Carefully, I pocketed the phone-like device into my lab coat and clutched the laptop in my arms. Entering the hallway, I was met with a frightened Yamaguchi stumbling back from the room. He was barely able to get out the words he wanted to say. He saw Kido dragged up and into the attic before the small access door shut behind him. Panicking, the Professor questioned what to do seeking some sort of foundation in me; his former student. Yet, I was at a loss myself. My head was spinning from our recent discoveries and even standing in that hallway it felt like the entire house was spiraling around me. I summoned what strength I could and convinced myself that Kido had chosen this fate and perhaps, due to his profession, deserved it. As we heard the crack of gunfire joined by Kido shouting out Hojo's name, I suggested we flee. “But what about the stairs!?” the Professor questioned recalling what he had read from the journal still clutched in his grasp. Summoning what little courage I had left, I explained that we could just proceed down them together carefully. If we moved slowly and he helped me to keep my balance then there would be little threat from the stairs themselves. Agreeing to this, we began to move down the hall and stopped as we heard a muffled sound. It seemed to be coming from the attic, but it was faint. Slowly, it grew more and more clear as the voice rose from a whisper to shrieks. It was a man's voice, but not Kido's. Perhaps Hojo? Sometimes at night, when I cannot sleep, I hear that man's chant echoing softly in the distance: Bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono bakemono! As the voice reached its peak, we heard it suddenly fall silent only to be replace by something far more chilling. It was the death rattle exactly as the Professor had described hearing it over the phone. Despite our situation, I still held out hope for our escape even at this point. Professor Yamaguchi did not share my conviction. Without another word, the Professor abandoned me rushing down the hall fleeing instinctively. He began to shout something about burning the journal and the house along with it. It seemed he had become convinced that the house was cursed. Only by its destruction would the curse be undone. As the Professor vanished down the hall, I heard the hideous death rattle joined by blood curdling screams from Kido. My body shaking with fear, I began to move down the hall alone. As I reached the stairway the screaming and the death rattle had stopped. The Professor just reached the bottom of the stairs cackling with madness as he made a beeline for the kitchen. Exhaling carefully, I placed my back to the wall and slowly began to descend the stairs. After I had proceeded only a step or two, that hideous sound started again. The death rattle. Even hearing it drove me into a frenzied panic. A part of me wanted to look. To see. To confirm what it was and yet I could not turn. As I started to take another step, I felt an icy grasp clutch my ankle. As I struggled for freedom, I stumbled forward falling down the stairs. My descent stopped at the first landing. My body felt sore and I was sure that I had been bruised by the fall, but overall I was fine. I could still move and that was what mattered. However, as I raised my head to move I came face to face with the source of the death rattle which continued to resound louder and louder throughout the house. At the top of the steps, hunkered down and crawling on all fours almost like some sort of insect was a woman; or what was once a woman. It was Kayako Yamamura. Her body was as white as freshly fallen snow. Her thin body was clung in a dated white dress perhaps from the 1950's; I believe. It was stained with patches of dried blood. Her eyes were obscured by black patches of darkness and her throat was slit; slowly seeping blood even as the death rattle continued. As this hideous sound bore into my brain, I tried and failed to scramble to my feet. Slowly, step by step Kayako began to crawl down the stairs in pursuit of me. Shouting frenzied cries for help, I managed to work myself forward crawling down the stairs the rest of the way. Every few seconds, I heard another loud thud as Kayako continued her descent in pursuit of me. At the bottom of the steps, I managed to stumble to my feet and rushed to the front door. However, I found it shut and locked. Despite sitting down the laptop and using all my might I could not get the lock to budge at all. Panicking as the death rattle grew louder, I snatched back up the laptop and began to run for the living room. I could not stay any longer. I remembered spying an exit to the backyard from the meditation area. Professor Yamaguchi was presumably in the kitchen. Yet, he had abandoned me. I couldn't let my concerns guide my judgment. I had to think about myself. I had to think about Yumi. I had to get back to her. As I passed by the steps my frenzied brain could not help but command me to look again and take stock of things. Once more, I glanced the gruesome visage of Kayako and again felt chills rush through my body. Had I not felt so driven in that moment to escape, I think I would have frozen in fear. I could feel my heart pounding through my chest. The death rattle grew louder and louder. As I entered the living room my vision began to cloud and I stumbled about wildly. I am not sure what happened next. I can only explain it now as that I must have begun having hallucinations. In the living room, I saw the same room and yet it was a vision of it from the past. At one end of the room was a group of Americans wearing 1920's dress. The leader in the pack was a man in a fine suit holding a tommy gun just like the mobster movies I had seen from America. Yet something was odd. Etched onto the front of the tommy gun was a blue star-like symbol. Across the room standing before the paper-screen door of the meditation area was an elderly Japanese man. With a shout, the man with the tommy gun unleashed a hail of fire. As he worked towards emptying all the ammo the strange sign upon the gun glowed a bright blue light. The elderly Japanese man was riddled with shot after shot and yet he still stood. As the tommy gun emptied its final shots, the man was blown back through the screen door leaving a pool of blood where I had discovered the red stain earlier. Within the meditation area, the man's body began to shift and twist; contorting in ways my education led me to believe was not possible. Within mere seconds, his body had undergone a hideous transformation. Clad in black almost armor-like clothing, the face of the mask he wore seemed to hold a vile grimace. From his back began to sprout various tendril-like tentacles. Fearing for my life from this creature, I stumbled around as the vision faded. Turning around, I looked back into the entrance way just as Kayako reached the floor of the entrance way. However, there resting at the bottom of the steps was an American man and woman. I am not sure why, but in that moment I felt as though they had to be a family. They did not seem to fear Kayako like I did. Perhaps, they did not even notice her. Slowly, Kayako extended a hand and gently patted the woman's stomach as she whispered the name: Willem. It was that name once again. Slowly, the couple rose and began walking to the front door. Then, like an alarm rousing me awake I heard the death rattle once more and blinked only to find myself standing in the center of the living room. Kayako was halfway across the entrance way still crawling unnaturally in pursuit. Quickly, I rushed into the meditation area and slammed the door behind me. As if the thin paper of the door would do anything to buy me time. Still, there it was. The exit into the backyard. Clutching the laptop tightly to my chest I rammed the paper-screen door with my shoulder tearing through it to my freedom. From within the house I could hear Kayako's death rattle still, but I discovered something equally disturbing upon my escape. Night had come during our investigation of the Yamamura house. There laying in the backyard, in the dim moonlight, was Kido surrounded by debris. His head was seemingly crushed in with blood pooled around him. It was as if he had been slung around by a tornado or gale force winds. In fright I turned away, glancing up to notice the top of the house where the attic would be. The wall there had been literally blown open. Kido was dead. If he had not escaped already then Professor Yamaguchi was likely to join him. Still, I had gone this far. I could not stop now. Turning away from the gruesome sight, I advanced towards the shortest path around the house to the walkway which would lead back to the cul-de-sac. However, I found my final escape route blocked. There standing in the middle of my path was a tall looking human. Inhumanly tall. He had to be eight feet or more. The top of my head came only to about the middle of his stomach. He was dressed in a sharp black suit much like what Kido and his men had been wearing. As if expecting me, the man turned around as thin spider leg-like tendrils emerged from all over the back of his body. Slowly, his pale white hands straightened his black tie and following this line of sight I came to his head. There was no face at all. No eyes. No nose. No mouth. A head with nothing upon it to gaze at and be gazed upon in turn. What was most unnerving, however, was that despite his massive height... the rest of his body was just so slender. I cannot begin to explain what happened to me upon seeing this thing. I shouted at the top of my lungs and immediately fled in fright racing around to the other side of the house praying with all my might, despite my firm belief in science, that the way would be clear. As I passed by the opposite side of the house, I glanced and noticed the window to the kitchen. Inside was Professor Yamaguchi who seemed to be trying to use the stove to catch the house on fire. From the doorway, I saw Kayako Yamamura slowly walking up behind the Professor. She bore a bloodied katana in her hands. Even through the wall of the house I could hear her death rattle as if she were right behind me. There was nothing more I could do. I was too frightened. Too illogical. The world was spinning around me at a million miles an hour. Professor Yamaguchi's fate was sealed. I ran. I ran for my life. Out in front of the house. To the walk way. To my van. I fled at top speed. I should have been arrested for breaking any number of traffic laws and yet I was not. The entire time I drifted between laughing with madness and screaming in fright. The laptop rested in the passenger seat beside me. When I reached the apartment, Yumi was clearly frightened by my appearance. Despite her visit with family, she had beat me home. Lost and illogical, I told her to shut up with her questions and began barricading the door. I had to keep Kayako from coming for me. I spent that night huddled in the corner of our bedroom locked away from Yumi. I kept the laptop clutched to my chest in fear as I rocked back and forth. The front door was barricaded by every piece of furniture I could move before it. I moved the bed haphazardly to the corner and flipped it over so there could be nothing under it. With all the lights on, I kept to the corner so I was sure nothing could be behind me. At 3am, Yumi checked in on me pleading for me to open the door and explain what happened; I could not answer. Kido's men were dead. Kido was dead. Professor Yamaguchi was dead. All dead. *** The next few days were a blur. I generally kept to the bedroom isolated from the world outside. I was afraid to go out at all. In my mind going outside meant that Kayako had a way to me. I was not sure if she could even go beyond the foundation of the Yamamura house, but since I did not know I was afraid. Not only that, what if I encountered it again; the slender-being I had stumbled upon in my escape? I couldn't face it again. Not again. Yumi became increasingly frustrated with me and my refusal to accept any help. Eventually, she left to stay with her parents for awhile. After about a week things had settled some. Both Kido and Professor Yamaguchi had been reported missing. Yamaguchi being a much more publicized indecent. The vanishing of a beloved Tokyo University professor was a huge fiasco. The Yotsubishi Group was exceedingly worried with one of their prime assets calling in sick days for so long and began to become more aggressive in their attempts to get me in for work. I began going out more, mostly just to and from work, but I never felt comfortable. When driving or walking the streets of Tokyo, I constantly felt as though I were being watched and found my travel time much longer due to the constant need to check over my shoulder. Furthermore, I had to abandon one of my division's side projects. The sight of dead bodies involved in the studies repulsed me. I could not stand to look upon them for more than a few seconds before stumbling away in some sort of self-preservation act. I also found it hard to be near stairs within the office tower where we worked. I began taking the elevator exclusively and going out of my way to avoid even being near any sets of stairs. Eventually, the director of my division recommended that I speak to a company-appointed psychologist. I did not explain the events of that night; who would ever believe me? I was diagnosed with what the psychologist felt were temporary stress-induced conditions stemming from the extreme amount of work I had taken on. So much of it being high profile projects important to the success of my division supposedly added to the stress. I was identified with what she perceived as temporary but extreme cases of necrophobia, agoraphobia and bathmophobia. I was given a more lax work schedule and prescribed medication that I myself had worked on testing. Something I never expected to occur. Three months passed. Kido and Professor Yamaguchi became cold cases. Naturally, they were never found. Nobody else knew the truth but me. Yumi stayed with her parents during this time. Although, she kept in contact and we met from time to time when I was feeling up to it. Though I could not share with her the horrors I had endured, it seemed she truly still kept faith in my devotion to her. Despite overcoming my reclusive and fear-filled state as time passed, I still felt uneasy living in the Nerima Ward. When I was at home, at night, I continually thought about the fact that the Yamamura house was merely a 15 minute drive away. Since that first night back home I had taken to sleeping with all the lights on in the apartment. The lights were the only thing, I felt, that kept me safe. Eventually, when the opportunity came a month or two later, I requested a transfer to the Yotsubishi Group's Osaka Branch. There was too much weight in Tokyo for me. The events of that night. I invited Yumi to come along and hopefully patch things up completely between us. I thought moving far away would be a fresh enough start; for me and for the two of us. And now a year has passed since that fateful day. Life here in Osaka has been peaceful; I guess. I still keep several unusual habits like leaving some lights on in the house, but I no longer feel the constant dread that I felt those last few months in Tokyo. Since then, my life has slowly returned to normal. The events inside the Yamamura house have, over time, taken on a more dream-like quality to me. Yet, I know what happened that day was real. I still have the laptop and the phone-like device I discovered that day. I keep them locked away in a small storage safe inside the closet of my bedroom. Now and again, I consider taking them out and investigating them further. Yet, I cannot bring myself to. That fateful day I gazed not only into the past and future, but also into something far beyond what we humans can normally comprehend. I cannot hazard a guess whether all three elements were connected and, to be honest, I fear the fact that I might one day correlate their relationship. And yet, I find my life settling once more. It was rough on our relationship, but Yumi and I have moved past it. Her unyielding loyalty despite how hysterical I was for those first three months was a clear sign of her love. I think, perhaps, without her determination to stay by my side I might not be as stable as I am today. Best of all, we have something to look forward to: a child. It was something I had never given much thought, but now I'm becoming enamored with the idea. The Yotsubishi Group has talked about transferring me back to Tokyo recently, as well. While my work has been nothing but appreciated regardless of the location, they really could use me back at one of the main branches of the company. I am not sure what Yumi and I will do. Perhaps, if they can house us elsewhere from the Nerima Ward I might feel better about the idea. Still, once the baby comes I hope to be able to focus on him or her and leave behind that night. Perhaps, in truth, that is why I am putting what happened to paper. It will be hard to forget, however. Despite overcoming my fears and the newly found happiness between Yumi and I, there are frequent reminders of that night. From time to time when the sky is cloudy-gray and sullen like that horrible day so long ago, and Yumi is not home, I can hear that phone-like device ringing; like it is ringing right now as I write this. It rings again and again, muffled by the combination of my closet and the safe it is stored within. Laying there at night, Yumi slumbering innocently in my arms, I wonder who is calling and what they might have to say if I ever answered. Still, despite the temptation to delve further into the laptop from twenty-one years in the future, I refuse to give in to my curiosity. There are things in this world that we humans were not meant to know. We should live out our life blissfully unaware and die happy none the wiser. Scientists, like me, are perhaps the worst. We poke and prod and boldly claim we can understand anything and everything. Yet, there are things we will never be able to explain or understand. Driving ever forward in our pursuit of knowledge, we act as if our discoveries and our experiences hold some level of importance. Yet, in the greater scheme of things, they do not. In a scope far beyond what we can see or ever wish to conceive, there exists a tiny speck off to the side. Humanity, afloat by its own ignorance in a widening gyre of chaos. Edited by Hiro_Tsukasa, Jun 6 2012, 03:55 AM.
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