2 — Awake?

5:43 AM — MONDAY

Darkness consumed me.

I threw my pupils from corner to corner, desperately trying to find any form or concept of illumination.

Yet, to no avail.

“.....”

“.....”

“.....”

I turned my pupils once more.

“.....”

And it was at that moment when I felt as if I was being pulled by someone, somewhere…

…Someone pulling me towards consciousness.

It was a faceless person, though, they smiled at me. I could only aimlessly stare back at them, for my entire body was at their mercy—not being able to move a muscle, as if my body had forgotten the concept of producing energy to move itself. My mind entirely disconnected from it all.

I was dragged, and dragged…

…Seemingly to no end.

Though, right before my body would give in,

Everything vanished.

And suddenly, tens of images of the grotesque plateau that was laid before me flashed through my mind. The absolute gore, the corpses of the people I knew, the intestines slowly sliding down the walls as they leave behind trails of blood. Those mental images, like a flashbang, gleamed into my sight before abruptly vanishing, as if reminiscing of the horrific, tragic scene I found myself in. But, fortunately…

GASP!

…I jolted awake, lunging myself up straight. Sweat rolled down my body as I began to breathe rapidly.

“Haah… ah…”

“Wh… what…”

And I found myself sitting on my bed. My soaked night clothes clung onto my back as I left behind a stain of moist sweat on my bed covers.

A window right behind my bed was slightly opened, allowing a soft breeze of wind to encapsulate my slightly trembling body, as I sat upright, staring at my quivering hand in awe.

Was I… dreaming?

This was a question I never really asked myself. Like most people, our dreams often have metaphorical meanings, yet they are displayed in such an inexorably, unexplainable way. In other words, dreams often just seem weird. You would make a fool of yourself trying to explain a weird dream you had to one of your friends. Nobody would understand anything you would try to filter out from your mind to your mouth. It is just something only we ourselves can fully fathom, the rest is up for the listener’s imagination, much like writing a web novel, or something like that.

Though, you could say that I, just like many, have become desensitized to these sorts of experiences. Some dreams felt strange, some felt surreal, some felt good, haunting, whatever you name it, though…

…I never had a dream that felt this… real. Let alone a nightmare.

Could one imagine? A nightmare feeling this real? And not just any nightmare—a literal cesspool of absolute abomination. One that you could compare to a type of scenery from ‘Saya no Uta’, where everything you see around you, instead of furniture, they are turned into grotesque human innards.

This was something improbable. It was something that could never feel this real, yet, it did. I stared at my opened palm because I could still feel the warm fluid of blood sticking onto my entire body. As if I had plunged my right palm into a bucket of lukewarm blood, and pulled it out of it. I curled my fingers and gently scratched my palm, sensing a vague feeling of a liquid being pushed into the back of my nails.

“...What the hell…”

“.....”

I remained silent once more. This went on for a few minutes until I told myself to get up already. My alarm went off, completely breaking my state of reverie. After a change of clothes and bed sheets, I went my way towards the kitchen barefooted, where I then placed the bed sheet, as well as the garments I wore last night into the washing machine. Even though I was, up to this point, fully awake, I stared at the washing machine, as it started spinning around, spaced out, like a zombie. I feel as if that dream had affected my mind in some way… As if it shocked me to the point of experiencing a dissociation episode as a result of the trauma my subconscious mind experienced. This went on for a minute or two, until…

Beep, beep!

…I could hear my phone ring in the living room.

Finding myself in the living room, I let out a loud yawn as I let myself be embraced by the cosy, comfortable atmosphere. It was a small, typical modern Japanese living room you’d see in an apartment. The beautiful sun ray peeking through the half-opened curtains as if welcoming me back to the realm of the living. I felt as if this atmosphere told me that it was all just a bad dream, that it was all fine now, for I have now been embraced by absolute tranquillity. Though, it did not placate my feelings of… fascination.

I grabbed my phone from the counter that stood next to my grey couch.

[YOU HAVE RECEIVED (2) MESSAGES FROM: Mom]

“....”

[Mom: Good morning sweetheart! I will be coming over today after work. Will you be around? Your little brother wants to see you, too.]

[Mom: You better get awake by the time you see this message! You’re doing great at school, right? Don’t falter! Get up straight, and fight for those good scores!]

[Mom: That test is coming up, isn’t it? Tell me more about it today, maybe I can help you with it.]

Sigh…

[Me: Morning, Mom. I woke up before 6 AM today. I’ll still be around, I think. I will let you know.]

It has been a little over a year since I started living by myself in this humble apartment. Even though it isn’t the most prestigious place, it is as comfortable as anyone could imagine. Perhaps it is mostly because of the place I live in;

This secluded rural town is situated quite far from the nearby cities. Not too many people live here, but enough to substantiate a flourishing civilization. It wasn’t rare nor common for a student like me to be living by myself whilst attending college. Hanada, one of my good friends, also lives alone, just like a bunch of other students.

Regardless, this beautiful rural town is the place we call home. Many would say that people would grow sick from the lack of “socialization”, or in simple words, missing the more busy, city life this town evidently lacks, though, even we, young students have never grown tired of it. We’ve visited cities like Tokyo, or Shibuya for class trips, but even though we always had a fun time exploring these places, going back to this place always felt like going back home, both metaphorically and literally. It was something we emitted, as well. As if we were being alienated by people hailing from the major cities. It was clear that our presence was different between the cluster of citizens.

Though, may it be a good or bad alienation, I feel proud of how ‘different’ we are from them. Not in a superior way, but more like, knowing that your place is where other people clearly don’t feel fond of. Knowing that you have already found your place of solace within this world… Yes, that is a nice way to put it.

Beep!

“.....”

[Mother: Okay, sweetie! Good luck with school today!]

[Me: Thank you.]

…

[Mom reacted with :heart: to your message.]

At any rate, after taking a deep breath, I prepared my breakfast back into the kitchen. A simple double toast with butter, sided with a cup of coffee.

Back in the living room, I took my seat on the couch, my plate laid before me on the table. I took a sip from my coffee as I began contemplating my nightmare once again. My eyes squinting in… fascination.

I vaguely remembered the face that girl made. It was absolutely horrific. As if she housed an army of twisted psychopathic demons that violently razed through her soul. Their hellish screams all filtered through the grimace on her face, as if that was the only thing that manifested the malicious spirits within her. I had never seen something like that before, not even in horror movies, or any sort of medium that includes such elements.

Come to think of it, this girl doesn’t even have a name.

There had been a narrative, or better said, a folklore roaming around the town for many years that argues the existence of a cursed child. A child that is destined to bring death and despair to this town.

It all started in the year 1987, when a group of people mysteriously performed a mass suicide in order to “free themselves” from the curse’s grasp. The leader of this group was a man named Sakamoto Ukabe. A lot of research went into his background, and it seemed that he suffered from a mental condition called ‘Schizotypal Personality Disorder’, in short, someone who held odd and eccentric beliefs.

None of what he had claimed was ever proven right. The existence of this “cursed child” was never proven. But he still managed to emotionally manipulate the hearts of his followers into believing that they would be able to free themselves from the approaching “Time of Darkness” he claimed to be happening sooner or later.

Regardless of how incredibly atrocious this sounds, ever since his death in 1992, there have been unforeseen events occurring all across the town, and none of them ever happening in the nearby towns. Things like natural disasters, certain individuals screaming some sort of prophecy, often shouting that “the time is near”. It managed to convince many of us that this town is certainly a little… different from the others.

While something like this “cursed child” is obviously a fictional tale, the events that happened still instilled a dread within our hearts. Unexplainable deaths, natural disasters, murders with no form of any source… it was only natural for young students like us to be intrigued by this anecdote of the possibility of something metaphysical going on.

And it did not take too long for the girl from our classroom to become the scapegoat for our suspicions. Myself included, though, in all honesty, I moreso followed along with the train, and never really badmouthed the girl myself for all I know.

I personally never thought much about it, so there isn’t much I can speak about it. All of my knowledge regarding this whole phenomenon stems from rumours and stories I heard from other people. I never experienced something supernatural, or have been convinced as those from whom I have heard these stories. Like many others, I am a listener, rather than a teller.

…Though, for some reason…

…I feel so fascinated.

I always had a knack for horror. I often use horror as inspiration to draw fictional characters like one of my idols Junji Ito. I have been reading much of his work ever since Kaze (Otokaze) introduced his works to me.

I was inspired to write my own stories and illustrate my own characters…

And ever since I experienced this dream…

…I felt an urge to sketch a character based on that silent girl.

After I finished my breakfast, I went my way towards my “workspace”, though if you could really call it one. It was a small, dimly lit simple room that only consisted of a medium-large table, on which my computer, as well as my drawing tablet, were situated, flanked by a comfortable chair, and a small, solemnly-placed couch in the corner.

Here is where my imagination came to life. It was a “second home” to me, given my fascination and love for drawing, as well as writing stories. I had recently started writing a story that was very akin to Junji Ito’s Uzumaki, though, as much as I’d like to continue it, I just couldn’t erase that eerie smile of that girl from my mind.

I took my seat at the table, and booted my computer. I sighed as my fingers weaved through my dishevelled hair. Thinking about her…

It’s still early. I could sketch something before I go.

And, as if suddenly put into a trance magical spell, I began to sketch three different versions of the girl’s composition. One of which, was the girl sitting hunched over her table, her long black hair cascading over her entire face, obscuring it from anyone around her, just like in that nightmare.

The second one, her head turned towards me, a haunting glare piercing my soul as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

The third one, her leaning towards me, reaching her opened palm out to me, as if waiting for me to give her something, her smile even more evocative.

6:43 AM

“Ah, crap. I took way too long for this. I should get ready for class now…”

After realizing how much time I spent on these pieces, I hurried to my bedroom, grabbing a change of clothes; a white shirt sided with black pants, and wore a necklace mom had made for me a long time ago. It was a simple, antique necklace made from a tow, with a black-hued, circular symbol placed in the middle of it. I then hurriedly took the cleansed laundry and set it up to dry on my small balcony, taking my leave soon afterwards, my sketches silently lying on my table, abandoned for the next upcoming hours. The smiles etched on that girl’s face displayed on the paper like a smiling toy being put away, her smile unwavering.

…..

7:00 AM

I arrived at school, making my way past the small number of students hanging out before the building, and not soon after, I found myself in the hallway where my class was situated. In front of the closed door stood Hanada, who, at the right time, noticed my arrival, as I walked towards him, both of my hands buried in my pockets.

“Hey, Haruki! Good morning!”

“Morning, Hanada.”

“Slept well?” He asked, slightly turning his head to the left.

“Meh, kind of had a nightmare,” I responded. “But I’m doing just fine, no worries.”

“Oh really? Same here! Did you also dream about that girl?”

“Hm…?” I murmured, confounded. What girl was he talking about?

“That girl, dude! That silent girl seated next to you. I’m telling you, I never had such a gorefest of a dream before, man!” Hanada added, his eyes alight with fervour.

“Ah… what…?” I responded, my mouth slightly left ajar.

“Seems like you didn’t dream of her. Well, I did,” he responded. “She quite literally slaughtered every single one of us in her classroom, like a psychopathic killer. She used a knife, but had supernatural strengths, or something, because none of us, even despite our greater number, posed any challenge.”

“That’s… strange…”

“I know, right?! Must be something related to the curse, dude. Not kidding. I hope it doesn’t mean I’ll be dying anytime soon, or anything, right? Hehe!” He jested, slapping my shoulder multiple times as I awkwardly smiled along.

“What did you dream about, then?” He asked, to which I downcast my eyes.

“I don’t remember it well. But it was just your regular magical nightmare.”

“Like running away from hellhounds or something?”

“Yeah… something like that.”

“Ah, well, those can be quite freaky too, man.”

“Let’s just head into the classroom before we get into trouble.”

This was odd.

So, I wasn’t the only one who dreamt about that girl?

This… must be a coincidence or something…

Entering the classroom, it was filled with classmates, each circled in their own social cluster. Both me and Hanada could see Kaze aggressively waving at us from a distance, seated at his own table.

We both passed through the people as Hanada took the lead. We ultimately passed by the silent girl’s table, whose face was entirely visible. She sat silently, aimlessly gazing into the distance. She didn’t have her book with her this time, it seemed. Her table was empty, as she held her hands under it. She seemed tired, or, better put, emaciated…? I couldn’t explain it in simple words, perhaps she was simply tired, and I was just overthinking it. It was Monday, after all. The worst day of the week, arguably.

Regardless, I gulped in apprehension… I know that it was a dream, I know none of it was real. Everyone is still alive, though… I just, can’t help it. Something about this dream just… didn’t sit right. I had said it before, that this dream felt like no other, it felt too real for it to be an illusion. Even now, I can still feel the warmth of the dreadful pool of blood that coated the floor, I can still taste and smell the stench of rust that pierced my nostrils and tongue as I gave in to the overwhelming grotesque scene.

I closed my eyes, squinting slightly, trying my hardest to avert my mind from this. And that was until…

“Oi, Haruki!”

Kaze fortunately broke my state of reverie. Bringing me back into a realm of light.

“Feelin’ alright, Haruki?” Kaze asked, to which Hanada responded, as he sat on Kaze’s table, both of his hands put on the edges.

“He’s had a bad dream, cut him some slack. Kehehe…”

“Hah,” Kaze murmured. “So that’s what it is. Not feeling weary on a Monday?”

“Not really,” I responded, taking my seat behind Kaze. “And? How did your weekend go, Kaze?”

“T’was good! I was planning on working extra for some more yens, though my knee just wouldn’t let me. This injury still prevents me from attending volleyball training, it suuuucks!”

“It’s for the better,” Hanada responded. “You better contain your inpatient soul until you’re entirely healed. Can’t go risking for an additional time of rest, right?”

Both Hanada and Kaze were naturally engrossed in small talks, which disconnected them both from me. As I remained in a short personal silence, I slightly turned my head towards the girl sitting next to me, squinting my eyes in intrigue. Thankfully she didn’t notice it…

“...aruki…”

She still seemed to be in a daydream-like state, still gazing forward…

“...uki…

completely oblivious to the sea of voices that encapsulated her…

“HARUKI!”

“Ah—!”

“What’s up with you, man?” Kaze shouted at me, breaking my state of reverie once again, as both he and Hanada stared me down.

“S…sorry, guys.”

“Anyway, Haruki,” Kaze began once again. “Look at what I saw last weekend, though!” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, as Hanada stood in between us, leaning over to see what Kaze wanted to show us…