Ghost Stories:Shiryo Village *Editing*

Chapter 1

How long has it been? Sixty years? Seventy years? How long has it been since that dreadful night? Was it even real? It had to be...it felt so real. My therapist. He said that it was a mere dream. Such things didn’t exist, he told me. My teenage mind was just playing pranks on me. They told me that I never had a twin sister. They told me that a place called Shiryo Village didn’t exist. That it’s a tale from an old folktale told by the village elders to scare little children from going into the woods by themselves. He insisted. He insisted over and over again. He refuted me over and over again. He mocked me over and over again. He doesn’t know. He will never know. I’m not crazy. I know what happened that fateful night. He wasn’t there. He wouldn’t know.

“Grandma ", I blinked open my eyes, hearing the voice of one of my three grandchildren, who were sitting in front of me. They circled around my wooden rocking chair, like they always do whenever they’re visiting my home and want to hear a story.

"Grandma, are you okay? You spaced out ", the youngest one being the age of seven, said with a worried face. She resembles so much of her mother, the dark brown hair that reaches her shoulders and the chocolate brown eyes that are always filled with curiosity. She is the shortest, the tiny baby out of the three.

"I am fine, Nami ", I assured her with a smile on my face, but it probably looked like my wrinkles had grown all over my face, oh well.

"Grandma, can you tell us a story? ”, the eldest asked me, he is eleven years old and so stubborn, just like his father. He has light brown hair and amber colored eyes, always shining with bored and far too mature for his age, he’s like a stick in the mud.

"What kind of story, Kai? ", I asked him. He probably would pick a story about science, being the studious boy he is.

My middle grandchild, being nine years old, the tallest and probably the most hyperactive, was quick to give her suggestion. She is much like me or at least, how I was in the past. Adventurous, confident, determine. She would jump quickly into any form of game and attempt to master it before anyone else could have the chance to. Fearless. The shell of my old self.

"A scary story! Oh grandma, mom says that you used to tell the scariest stories ever! ", she proclaimed with that glint of excitement bursting in her eyes.

Well... the middle one is the strangest young lady that I have ever known. She has medium length, brown hair which she would always tie into a ponytail and dark brown eyes. But, it wasn't her appearance that makes her strange, she just has strange tastes, not like any of the other young ladies whom I have met earlier in my life. They are all into the latest fashions and clothes. Not her though, she would rather be out messing around in the mud making mud pies.

"Okay Rima, a scary story ", I responded with uncertainty.

I had told this story to my children so many times. It is a story that even I had trouble believing and not because it was ridiculous and about unicorns or rainbows, faeries and whatnot, it is more of a fearsome story, one that remains to haunt me every night. To this day, I would wake up in a cold sweat because of the haunting past it brought up. Sometimes the dreams felt so real that I believed that the end wasn’t even near. I believed that they were still watching me. Waiting for me to let my guard down so they can swoop in and take my life from my hands. I wouldn’t be surprised if they attempted to with my knowing.

“Well, listen up children. It all began in the year 1965, when I was nineteen years old.... “

JAPAN YEAR 1965-

"Hurry up, Nana! “, I shouted as I ran ahead of my slowpoke sister, Nana. 

We were in a forest. Not just any forest. The Forest of the Lost. It’s a mysterious, wonderfully beautiful piece of land filled with trees and shrubbery. So misleading, the name that is. I don’t know anyone who has ever gotten lost in the forest. If anything, the tale behind it is an old wives’ tale that was brought about by mean old ladies who are lonely and hate children.,