INCEPTION

LOST RABBIT

Genre-Ghost story

Intro: a short fictional story based in Japan's Suicide Forest

I've lived in the Narusawa village my whole life, I don't recall ever leaving. I live on the outskirts of the village, the closest house to the Aokigahara forest-or as the tourists like to call it, the Suicide Forest. It is true that many thousands of people come here to die or to kill themselves or others, and have been doing so for hundreds of years; there is no known number of how many deaths have occurred with in the wall of trees because the first remembered uses were long ago during times of famine, when people could not keep feeding older relatives.The air is thick with death, no animals sing with in the forest's walls. Sometimes I imagine I can feel icy fingers at the back of my neck, the ominous chill that comes from angry spirits screaming, their bodies yet to be found, left all alone. But contrary to a lot of the other villagers' beliefs, living close enough to the forest to walk a few minutes down the road andsee the first police signs, is not all bad. Usually it is quiet and peaceful. Many think that because of the amount of suicides and deaths committed here the forest has somehow picked up supernatural elements, compasses, G.P.S., etc. not working within the forest and people getting lost, unable to find their way out. Some of the lucky ones I've seen, the random traveler stumbling out of the densest parts of the forest to pound, wild-eyed and slightly mad at my door, praying for help, food, protection from the forest. I always try to help if I can, but a single woman living alone on the edge of the ocean of trees can only do so much. Sometimes they seem too mad. As if they would be crazy enough to kill to get out of that forest. With those I regrettably stay behind locked doors till they bore and wander off. They, I cannot help.People in the village say my parents went in there together, to commit suicide, I don't know. I've taken care of myself for as long as I can remember and I've always been here alone, except for as a child when my Sobo raised me. I remember askingher about them."Sobo?""Yes dearest, Chan.""Why do other children in the village have an okaasan and otousan?""Chan, your parents died soon after you were born. They were out in the ocean of trees and then a storm came. After the storm passed, we waited for them for weeks. But they never came out. They disappeared into Aokigahara. That is why you have no father or mother. You have me though, and I love you Chan."When she died I still was young, and I buried her along the tree line, so that if the whispers were true she would bereunited with her son and my mother. Even if they did not die there, the other spirits that do not wail their fateunder the perpetual darkness would keep her company. I think her spirit rest happily, for I have never seen or heard her as I have others.The people in the village don't shun me outright but they do avoid me. They won't ever buy my crops, they say the soil has infected them, and mayhap that is true, because everything I eat has been grown in thesoil near the forest and I seem to be able to sense the spirits in the forest more than others I've observed. I wish that my parents' spirits wandered in the forest, but I really don't think theydo, over the years you would have thought I would have seen or heard something from them; they must be at peace. Happy that they are together and knowing Sobo would always take care of me. My grandmother sometimes seems to be here, a smell of miso and rice has woken me every so often through out the years, or a small piece of chore work has already been completed. One time I found a pair of socks I'd started, finished and waiting for me. The stich the one my grandmother favored. I'm not sure it is my Sobo butit is a friendly spirit and I always welcome them; spirits are easier to understand than people.One day a child knocked at my door, aworn rabbit dangling sadly in her grubby, small hand. I asked her if she was from the village and she shook her heard. Where were her parents I asked, a shrug this time and she pivoted to point towards the densest parts of the forest. I followed her fingers and when I turned back to ask her another question she was gone. An echo, I guessed, but when I went toclose the door I looked back to where she had pointed and there she was, standing at the tree line, her rabbit clutched in the same hand, her other motioning me to follow her into the darkness of the mid-day forest. I'm not completely sure why I followed her; I don't tend to venture far into the forest, even during the day light hours. Usually sticking to areas within the darkness that I can still see the light of the end of the forest, the wave of light that means the trees just stop there onto open sky. But I couldn't help but make the journey that this sad, disheveled, quiet child asked me to. So I followed and eventually stopped asking her questions and just tagged on behind her silent gliding form.Over the tangled masses of jutting roots and moss that tried to trap my feet and sprawl me on the rocky black, volcanic soil, beside hidden gleaming white bones of others; I followed. Into the green-black depths of the forest until it was as dark as midnight, I know outside the sun stood high in the sky and though all was deathly quiet I know birds sang outside the darkness. I followed her flitting form till she stopped along an entrance to a cave, hidden by the upturned curve of an ancient root. Inside the darkness of the forest the shadows of the cave loomed, she pointed and I balked like ahorse from a snake. The sweet, rottingscent of death and iron, tang of terrorand unnaturalness invaded my mind. Emotions leave imprints, if I've learnedanything from the ghosts and this forest it is that. People can leave things behind when they go. Something horrible had happened here and the little girl's form watchingbut not moving, the continuous pointing finger into the greater depth of the terror of the cave made me take a step backwards. A root grabbedmy foot from behind and I fell backwards, down a slight incline. Blackash, soil skidded underneath me and my palms caught on dozens of tiny volcanic rocks. My hand ended up on something soft, fur-like and a terrifiedsqueak emerged from my lips. I jumped up quickly, my mind running through the horrible things my hand could have touched. Yet when I lookeddown at what I had landed on I froze, it was worse than I could have imagined, my other hand slowly made its way to my mouth. I wanted to scream but nothing came. I looked to the child her hand had dropped when Ihad fallen; she nodded and raised her hand to again point into the cave. My eyes were drawn back to the ground, the dirt and blood stained rabbit that horribly echoed the one the child now clutched in her hand lay on the groundat my feet. Something horrible had happened and I was not sure I could handle the aftermath of it.With the impatience of a small child, she glided toward me, extended the hand that had been pointing into the darkness to me. I took a breath wondering at how strong this little ghost was that I could almost, tangibly touch her. She led me into the cave and there was some sort of bioluminescent moss or rock that casta soft, dull glow on the interior of the hidden cavern. The light was enough to view the incredible scene that greeted me after my eyes had adjusted to the darkness inside. Therewere puddles of wax all around from candles long since burned out. A large rock seemed to form a natural alter in the center of the small cave, all around the protruding rock, wax and dark congealed puddles infested by white grubby maggots silently screamed at the darkness. A small crumpled form pressed into the very back of the cave. The steely stench of blood and honeyed decay invaded my mind and painted it black. The evil presence made me flee.When I was under the less unnatural cover of darkness the trees provided I leaned against a friendly looking tree and vomited, till all I coulddo was dry heave bile. Once I straightened she was there, her sad eyes full of the understanding of my reaction. I oriented myself to where I was and took her by the hand. We walked out of the darkness and towards home.* * * *The little girl's spirit has yet to move on, she usually spends her days in the forest just wondering, at night I sometimes see her and many times I have awoken to find her "sleeping" form somewhere in the house or on the stoop outside. I think the darkness scares her, who could blame her. What horrors had been done to her there? I can never know. When I first regained my control over my body in the forest, I wanted to go to the police. But they don't trust me enough to take my word on it, besidesthe fact that I might not even be able to find that cave again, there are so many bodies unfound in there that one more would not matter. I doubt they would even consider a murder taking place in the Suicide Forest in the first place. I pray I never meet another ghost like this one. She was too young to have been killed in such a horrible, evil manner and she never talks. She stays shuttered up in her own world and seems content that someone knows where her body lays, even if the parents she might have had don't know what happened to her.I don't even know if she had parents or remembers them. The only thing I know is she seems to be happier than she was at first, though she still talks to no one. Yet every once in awhile when I come upon her unexpectedly, I will find her hunched over her rabbit, her dark hair falling forward to obscure her hair, and her pale pink lipsmoving silently in it's ear. He is the only thing she trusts to talk to and what secrets they share I shudder to know.