“Just do it! What are you, chicken?” Taro held the old battered piece of paper in his hands. 4 of the other boys in his class shouted in agreement, jeering him. It was just a silly old poem. It wasn’t so long. All he had to do is read it out loud, but if he did he might die…
Taro racked his brain to come up with excuses, or reasons to avoid reading it. Tomino’s Hell was an old poem by Saijo Yaso in 1919. It was infamous. The legend said that anyone who dares to read it aloud will suffer terrible luck, sickness, or even death. But, it was just a legend, right?
The biggest boy grabbed his uniform jacket, “DO IT!” he shouted. Taro held up the poem and read:
Elder sister vomits blood,
younger sister’s breathing fire
while sweet little Tomino
just spits up the jewels.
All alone does Tomino
go falling into that hell,
a hell of utter darkness,
without even flowers.
Is Tomino’s big sister
the one who whips him?
The purpose of the scourging
hangs dark in his mind.
Lashing and thrashing him, ah!
But never quite shattering.
One sure path to Avici,
the eternal hell.
Into that blackest of hells
guide him now, I pray—
to the golden sheep,
to the nightingale.
How much did he put
in that leather pouch
to prepare for his trek to
the eternal hell?
Spring is coming
to the valley, to the wood,
to the spiraling chasms
of the blackest hell.
The nightingale in her cage,
the sheep aboard the wagon,
and tears well up in the eyes
of sweet little Tomino.
Sing, o nightingale,
in the vast, misty forest—
he screams he only misses
his little sister.
His wailing desperation
echoes throughout hell—
a fox peony
opens its golden petals.
Down past the seven mountains
and seven rivers of hell—
the solitary journey
of sweet little Tomino.
If in this hell they be found,
may they then come to me, please,
those sharp spikes of punishment
from Needle Mountain.
Not just on some empty whim
Is flesh pierced with blood-red pins:
they serve as hellish signposts
for sweet little Tomino.
With a shaky voice, Taro finished the poem. The other boys were all quiet, staring at Taro as though they expected him to suddenly drop dead in front of them. The silence was deafening.
Finally, one of the other boys finally broke the tension by saying, “It looks like you’re not dead.” A few weak laughs lead to a few conversations, and after a few minutes things seemed to be back to normal.
As Taro was walking home, he started to feel foolish. There is no such thing as a killer poem. He started to think of his foolishness. How could a poem bring harm to people? He didn’t feel any different. He giggled a little at his own foolishness. The giggle erupted into a full laugh.
Laughing, Taro never noticed the huge truck, whose drowsy driver fell asleep at the wheel and drove onto the sidewalk, taking him away to meet Tomino…
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"Japanese Urban Legends"
Paranormal[DISCLAIMER: IF YOU WANT TO BELIEVE THEN BE IT, BUT I REALLY DON'T KNOW EITHER IF IT IS TURE OR NOT BUT THE ONLY THING I KNOW WAS........ YOU'RE BRAVE ENOUGH TO READ THIS SO READ IF YOU DARE] ENJOY!(￣3￣)
