I'm Sorry For...Everything.

The encounter with the crying ghost in the attic left an indelible mark on my heart. Her unspoken pain seemed to linger in the air.  

Days turned into weeks, and as I explored every nook and cranny, I uncovered fragments of the ghost's past. Dust-covered photo albums revealed faded memories of a once-happy family, captured in moments of joy and togetherness. The ghost, I realized, was a mother—a mother forever trapped in the realm of the departed, her heart forever burdened by the loss of her children.

Through faded letters and forgotten diary entries, I pieced together the tragic tale that unfolded within the walls of our new home. The one-toothed man, the previous owner, had been responsible for the untimely demise of the ghost's children. The pain she carried was not only one of her lost life but also the unbearable grief of a mother who had been robbed of her precious little ones.

I had found out something that I could never forget. A forgotten diary entry.

September 14th, 1957The weight of sorrow and loss hangs heavily upon my soul, consuming every fiber of my being. As I trace the pen upon these pages, my heart bleeds anew, reliving the unimaginable pain that has become the essence of my existence.

My dearest children, Kazuki and Aiko, how cruel fate has been to rob you from my embrace. It was a crisp autumn morning, much like today, when the news reached me—a devastating blow that would forever haunt my days and haunt the halls of this house. An airplane crash, they said. 

But how could I believe them?

The untold lies of truth. The disguise and veil hiding the truth beyond my eyes. I'm sorry, is it my fault? Do I need to be miserable for the upcoming eternities?

Oh, how my heart shattered into a thousand irreparable fragments as the truth unfolded before me. 

The depths of despair I have plumbed since that day are unfathomable. In this house, once a sanctuary of laughter and joy, I am now a mere specter, forever trapped between the realms of the living and the dead. The memories of your laughter, the warmth of your embraces, and the sweet innocence of your smiles haunt my every waking moment.

I pen these words with a heavy heart, tears staining the ink upon these pages. The pain of your absence has become an unending ache, a gaping void that no passage of time can heal. I whisper your names into the emptiness, hoping that somehow, somewhere, you can hear the echoes of my undying love.

Forever yours,Miyako

One night, guided by a melancholic whisper in the wind, I found myself back in the attic. The ghostly figure sat in the same rocking chair, her translucent form trembling with anguish mirroring my own. I approached her; my voice choked with sorrow.

The ghostly mother turned her gaze towards me. It was as if my words had pierced through the veil of her sorrow, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that consumed her.

The path towards redemption was paved with heartache and sacrifice, but we vowed to persevere, to carry the weight of her sorrow as our own, and to find a way to mend the shattered fragments of her fractured soul.