Shivers 2

Onyro

Tadashi’s life was one of routine, consumed by the monotony of his desk job; countless papers stacked in high towers, back and forth chatters on phones, and the endlessly ticking clock. His days blurred into one another, interspersed with the glow of neon from the Tokyo nightlife, which he often joined to burn away the stress of work. Tonight though, the office kept him late, well past midnight.

Walking down the quiet street, Tadashi’s tired eyes roamed in the chilly darkness. A strange sense of unease teased the edge of his nerves as the only light sources, the street lights, fluttered ominously. Shadowy whispers, too soft to distinguish as words, twisted in the wind around him.

From a darkened alleyway, a figure drew his attention. A woman in a time-honored kimono, the traditional fabric was stained with patches of dark crimson. Her long hair, jet black, hung heavily around her as though it held the whispers of a thousand secrets.

"Miss! Are you okay?" Tadashi called out, walking swiftly to close the distance between them. The haunting beauty of her figure contradicted the eerie nature of their meeting. She didn’t respond.

As she moved towards him, her gate strangely elegant, her face swam into the dim light. Tadashi’s heart clenched violently as blood ice cold sluiced through his veins. The ashen pallor of her face, the pits where her eyes should have been, and the haunting aura billeted every notion of mortality. Standing on the precipice of humanity had been the figure of an Onryo, a vengeful spirit, and an embodiment of terror.

Veins pumping adrenaline, he wheeled around with a primal scream, his feet beating against the pavement as he fled through the dark, dimly lit neon streets. The malicious gliding of the spirit gave her the illusion of an ethereal dancer, gained on him steadily. By pure luck, a bus rounded a corner. Tadashi threw himself on board, the doors closing behind him as he stumbled onto an empty seat.

His heart pounded, but as he looked out the window, he felt a painful sense of dread. On every dark corner, in every whisper of the wind, he saw her. He watched the specter haunting his ride through the eerie glow of the Tokyo night.

By the time he reached his apartment, his terror had peaked to insurmountable limits. He bolted his doors and cowered in his home, his ears prickling at every creak of his old apartment. The whispers grew louder as he recalled the face of an old love. Her kind eyes, her gentle touch, and her heart he'd broken. She’d loved him deeply and he’d cast her aside.

His hands shook as he thought about the spirit, her traditional kimono, and her haunting presence. The whisper at the back of his mind, the possibility that his old love was back as a spectral being from the other side, transformed into a roaring scream of horror.

The eerie silence of his apartment was broken by the scraping of nails against his walls. The ghostly moans sent a cold shiver down his spine as he flinched. Lights flickered in a ghastly pattern, casting monstrous shadows across his apartment. His front door shook, threatening to tear from the hinges.

In desperation, a tear-laden wail tore past his tightly clenched teeth, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what I did! Please… just stop!” He cried to what he believed was the spiritual incarnation of his ex-lover. The crazed shaking of the door ceased. Infected with fear, Tadashi cowered till daybreak.

As he stepped out of his apartment, a hesitant relief washed over him. It seemed he had successfully pleaded with the spirit. Relief turned to gut-wrenching fear as he caught the pale reflection behind him. The Onryo was still with him, her pale face eerily serene in the light of the rising sun. His reflection screamed in terror but the world beyond his apartment door was deadly silent.