It was 1970s in Takayama, the small town in Japan. Schools are out. Children are
running toward their parents to pick them up. Some children walk home with
much courage. Then, there’s the little sad boy in the red shirt waiting for his mother to come get him. The boy’s mother seems to change. She used to be a caring, lovely lady, hoping for her only son to grow up and have a successful life,
even when she’s not around for him. She has a husband. Lovely, caring, same thing as his mother. Poor husband died of uncurable disease when the boy was three. And now she’s uncharitable, impolite, and such a nasty mother. Sometimes she breaks the poor little boy toys while he’s in school, only to get the sadness out of her. The little boy couldn’t understand what is wrong with his mother. Maybe it’s his father
death? Maybe she does this because she felt like it? He doesn’t know what went
through her mind.
Getting tired of waiting for his mom, the boy, with the little courage, decides to
walk home all by himself. No company. No friends. Only him and his backpack. He
knew it’s dangerous, but he’s too scared to stay in front of school alone. While the little boy was walking, he looks up to see the dark, unexpected town. It took minutes to realize the boy has taken the wrong way. This isn’t the town he was
born from.
It was empty town, the town that looks abandoned. Instead of turning back, the
boy explores the town for a bit. There was scarecrow on each house, all dress like
how people from his town usually wear, except dirtier. No cherry blossom or
leaves on trees. Just plan sticks. The sky is getting darker, which makes this place
even more scary. The boy is terrified and has to find the way to get out of the town. He turns back and then stop. There is a man in front of him.
He looks very tall, always wear a trench coat and hat. The little boy has never seen
anyone dressed western. He looks like a spy, but very old and ghastly look. He smiles, showing a sharp tooth, almost like a shark. He has no legs, only a white tail. He floats to the little boy to give him a closer look. The child looks terrified. He
doesn’t know if he should run and hide or run back to his home. His grandmother
said help the old people cross the road. He loves helping old people in need. But this guy doesn’t look like he needs help. The old man reaches his hand to the child. The sharp nails really bring the boy to cover his face in fear. He knew he was a
goner. Out of sudden, the ghost put his hand on the child’s head, rubbing it back
and forth. The boy uncovers his face, slowly looks up to the ghost’s body. His face
changes from shock to confused. The ghost takes his hand off his head and smiled.
“I can help you get out of your home life.” The old man stated. His voice sounds more crooked enough to make the boy believe he was going to help him. The boy denied. “You don’t sound helpful.” the child said, moving backwards. “But I can make you happy.” the ghost said. The child ignores the ghost and ran back where he came from. But the old man appears in front of the boy, causing the boy to trip. “You wanted to see your grandmother?” the old man questioned the little boy. “My mom forbids me to visit her. She said if I ever sneak out to see her, she might do
something bad to me.”
The old man frowned. Seeing the child so young living with his cruel mother breaks the old man’s heart. Not because the child suffered, but because he remembered a boy not so long ago. A boy with bruises on his back, and silence in
his throat. The ghost had never been able to save the child. But maybe... Just maybe, he could save this one.
But just as he was about to reach the child, he heard a footstep. The little boy looks
behind and fear has just come back. It was his mother, his cruel mother. She looks
at the boy with fury. “Young man!" the mother said, “where have you been? You were supposed to come home hours ago!” Before the child can say anything, his mother grabs him by his arm and dragged him away from the ghost. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t beg. The boy stays silent, knowing by the time they get home,
worst things about to happened to the little boy. The old man grew enraged. How many times had he watched a small body curl under the weight of someone who supposed to loved them? How many times had he watch each child floats around him, knowing he couldn’t save each of them? How many times had he tried to help the children, but failed to protect them?
The old man needs to save the little boy. He would not let his mother take him
away.
As the boy and his mother gets home, the boy’s mother throws her son on the floor
in anger. “You want to leave me, don’t you?” his mother yelled. The child breath heavily, still silence in his throat. He couldn’t move. Fear had pressed him in the corner like a nailed shadow, bruises blooming across the back. The cruel mother grabs his shirt, brings him closer. “I would not let you leave! You will stay with your
mother until-” Her voice got cut off by the strange sound. Mother look around, trying to figure out the mysterious sound. She let go of her son and giving him the glare. A glare so tense, so unbelievably chilling it makes the little boy sweats even more. She lift her hands up close to the boy’s face. His tears rolled down his face.
He knew the punishment would come.
The mother hands would’ve gone across his face now. But when she tried to slap her son, her hands froze. She attempts to pull her hands away and do it again, with force, but her hands stay here. It remained suspended mid-air, fingers curled and trembling. The mother became irritated, as she thought the boy was somehow “responsible” for this sudden paralysis. She tried again, jerking her arm back with a violent pull.
Nothing.
This time her wrist stayed frozen in place. Trying to pull her hand away won’t do anything. A cold draft threaded around her arms, coiling like smoke. The ghost’s presence pressed tighter, unseen, but unmistakably guiding her limbs the way a puppeteer guides string. “What... What is this?” She whispered. The cruel mother
uses her force to get herself down. Nothing happens. The house groaned. The air
thickened. She tried to step back, but her feet wouldn’t obey either. They rooted to
the floorboards like they’d grown into them. Her breath hitched. “Let me go!” she yelled, not to the boy, but something she felt. The little boy
watched, wide-eyed and silent as the mother’s body betrayed her. The ghost tightened his grip. Her arms rose higher, muscles trembling from being moved. Her hands hovered near her own face now.
“You don’t get to hurt him!” the old man growled.
Her eyes widen when her own hands began to turn against her. The mother breath grew ragged as her own finger pressed on her cheeks, forcing her head to the side. She fought with every muscle she had, except her body jerked in stiff, unnatural movement. “Stop...” She choked. The lights buzzed violently, busting with a sharp
pop that showered the room in darkest. Her hands clamped around her throat.
Her fingers tightened, nails digging through her skin. The old man tightens her grip slowly, making her feel every second of fear she had carved into her son. The cruel mother let out a strangled gasp. “Please!” She begged. Then, she dropped on the floor beneath her weight. Her heels scraped, desperately for escape. But the
ghost pinned her before she can. He twists her arms in circles, cracking the bones in progress. She screams in agony while both of her arms dislocated.
The boy pressed himself against the wall, not sure if he wanted to watch or look away. The
old man looks at him. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked. The boy’s lips parted, but no words came. The memory of all her nights, the shouting, the blows, the hunger, the cold, filled the space where his voice should have been.
And for his responds, the little boy shakes his head no.
The old man turns back to the mother. She still alive, despite the broken arms. The old man grabbed her legs with a slowly and sternly twist. She gives it a painful last scream before her voice became wheeze. The old man wrapped his hand on the cruel mother’s throat for the last time. Her fingers trembled, then slackened as her eyes rolled back.
A final rattle escaped her lungs, a wet, broken sound swallowed immediately by the house.
Then silences. Her body collapsed. The boy stares at the unmoving body. The ghost hovered beside him. “It’s over” the ghost whispered.
For the first time in years, the house is quiet. Not the cold, heavy silence the child had grown used to, but a soft one, like the world is finally exhaling.
Little boy stands in the doorway, staring at the empty room where fear once lived. The air
feels lighter now, almost warm, and a small shiver brushes the child’s shoulder. Not the kind that makes him flinch. The kind that feels… Safe.
“Thank you.” the child whispered.
A faint shimmer stirs beside him, barely noticeable. The ghost doesn’t speak.
He rarely does, but the room fills with a gentle calming voice that answers for him. They step outside together. The world beyond the house is bigger than the child ever realized, filled with things that don’t hurt. The ghost follows the boy.
A silent guardian trailing at his side, unseen by others but always there for him. And as the little boy walks toward a new life, toward safety, toward hope.
The old man glows just a little brighter, no longer bound by sorrow, but by the simple promise he intends to keep. The next day, police went to the boy’s house. They found his mother lying on the
floor, with broken legs and arms. They declare it as “accidental” death. But they don’t know that the old man was here. He was here to save the child. Now the child is with his grandmother, feeling safe and calm. The ghost is always there for him, protecting him for danger and protentional harm.
He will never let the child face the darkness alone again.
