Antique Shop?BEAR? - Chapter 49
Chapter 49 – Hanging Scarf
“Yesterday, during the time I fell asleep. I was lying on the futon right here. I was very tired, but I had been drinking, so I woke up and needed to go to the bathroom. When I opened my eyes, I tried to sit up, but I felt incredibly heavy and my head was foggy. I regretted that I had drunk so much. But the truth is, I was in a state of sleep paralysis. I could move my eyes, but my body was immobile. Have you ever had it?”
“No. Is that a spiritual thing? Can anyone get it?”
“I’m sure it happens to everyone. So, I desperately struggled to move my body, but it was impossible, finally, I closed my eyes and relaxed my body. Then I heard the sound of clothes rustling on the ceiling. It was making a shulushulu noise. Eventually, I felt something dripping down my legs. It made me feel gross, and when I lifted my eyes, there was a woman hanging from the ceiling. A scarf was tied to the light bulb above her, and she was hanging by her neck. I was so freaked out, but since I was physically stuck, I just stayed still, and then the woman’s bodily fluids started trickling down to my feet. Tears, slobber, snot, urine, and so on. When I realized it, I was about to scream, but my body jolted and I was able to move.”
“Not scary at all. Too generic.”
“Yes. But the horror story you’re actually writing is fairly conventional, and that’s about as scary as it gets.”
Those words stung Sashima to the core.
“What you just said… it is the scariest thing that I’ve ever heard.”
“How many people would be intimidated by a childish ghost? Would you be horrified if your guts or blood spurted out? By the way, what I just told you is what I really saw last night.”
“Mana…”
“I’ll go get you a hot drink, and you can watch the horror rankings.”
Sashima pulled out his phone and opened “Yomikaki”.
What’s truly a terror? What’s the definition of horror?
Up until now, Sashima has been writing about bizarre and abnormal phenomena. However, he had never analyzed the actual ranking of the site. While he was puzzling over this, a bang sounded from the front door.
“Iguchi…”
Sashima rose to his feet and regarded the doorway.
Squeak… Squeak… Squeak… The door can be heard squeaking. Iguchi was not within the kitchen. Huh? The moment his gaze wandered to the door, he discovered Iguchi hanging from the doorknob of the front door, and for a fleeting second, his mind failed to sort out what exactly he saw, prompting him to do a double-take, and finally, Sashima opened his gaping mouth and recoiled.
“… I… Iguchi…!”
Almost tripping forward, he approached and lifted Iguchi’s body. A dark red scarf was hanging around her neck. The scarf did not come undone with ease, and once he lowered the body he was supporting, he scanned the kitchen for scissors. Not finding any scissors anywhere, he hurriedly steadied himself and managed to undo the firmly tied scarf.
His heart was thudding like a bell and he could feel his own pulse. What he was doing caused him to nearly lose consciousness, leaving him dizzy. Laying Iguchi’s body down, he called for an ambulance. Her eyes were half-open; her nose was runny; she was drooling. When he checked her wrists and carotid arteries, her breathing and pulse were present. As far as he could remember, he took life-saving measures until the ambulance arrived.
Upon arriving at the hospital as an attendant, the doctors and police asked for more clarification on the situation, but to be frank, he felt as if he were being suspected and felt uncomfortable. To top it off, when Iguchi’s parents reached the hospital, her father yelled at him, “What have you done to my daughter!”. Her mother intervened, but even she eyed Sashima with disdain. By the time he left the hospital, it was already evening and he headed for the station on foot, leaving in a disoriented state. Fortunately, it was a general hospital near the station, and therefore it was convenient for him to return home.
On the way home, he made a stop at Hosho Station. The vermilion evening sun was casting a glow over the old-fashioned streets that seemed to have slipped back to the Edo period. The river looked blotchy, as if the colors of the setting sun had been dissolved in paint. Strolling along the bridge, he caught sight of a beauty salon at the end of the bridge. When he spotted the sign on the store, “Beauty Salon Green,” he was astounded.
“Here… is where the last homicide took place.”
From what he had watched on the news, it was reported that a customer who came in for a haircut model was slashed to death with scissors after the store closing time.
“I thought it was close, but… I didn’t know it was this close…”
The store was reopened.
Continuing back along the bridge, he passed by the antique shop, but the shutters were down and the store was not open. Having nothing better to do, Sashima went home. As he lay there alone, he noticed that his scarf was still wrapped around his neck.
“Ah, I forgot to remove…”
When he undid the scarf, it evoked a vivid memory of Iguchi. That pale face. Those lifeless, open eyes. The realization that if you hang yourself, you can indeed lose consciousness in a matter of seconds like that. This was the first time for him to be aware that the experience could be traumatic. Exhausted and drained, he showered and drifted off to sleep.
Within the darkness, his computer floated by. The light from the computer conjured up something.
Sashima stared at it. It was Iguchi, hanging by her neck in the doorway. She was smiling, despite the dark red scarf hanging around her neck.
“You can’t scare me with these clichéd horror stories.”
That’s right. In actual experience, witnessing someone being hanging is shocking, but when it comes to horror, it’s an orthodox and uninspired way to die.
“You’ll write better if you experience it, too.”
Iguchi pointed at something. On the floor was a dark blue scarf.
“If you experience the other side of the world, you’ll be able to write much more profound horror stories. Your novels will become authentic.”
The scarf softly levitated and flew to Sashima.
“Wrap that around your neck.”
Sashima stared at Iguchi and snapped at her. “Shut up! I have my own way of writing horror stories!”
Sashima flung the scarf away with all his strength, and Iguchi had faded away.