How This Crazy Idea Started
Honestly? Got drunk watching old Japanese monster movies one Friday night. Thought “How hard could meeting real yokai be?” Woke up Saturday, hungover, still convinced this was genius. Grabbed my backpack, threw in random stuff: grandma’s silver crucifix (just in case), half a bag of rock salt from BBQ season, my phone for pics, and three canned coffees. Hopped on a train heading deep into the mountains near Kyoto – figured spooky forests were the spot.
The “Preparation” Phase (I Was Clueless)
Did zero proper research. Didn’t visit shrines for protection charms. Didn’t learn any wards. Just walked into some super old, moss-covered woods around sunset like an idiot. Felt the temperature drop the second the trees swallowed the path. Started hearing weird scratching noises above me. Not birds. Bigger. Paused to drink a cold coffee – shaky hands spilled half of it. Mist started creeping between the trees, thick and white. Footsteps started echoing my own, but slower. Behind me.
- Turned around quick. Nothing there. Just deeper mist.
- Stomped forward, trying to sound brave. The footsteps sped up to match mine perfectly.
- Panicked, threw salt blindly behind me. Heard a sharp hiss, like hot oil hitting water. The footsteps stopped.
The First Actual “Meeting”
Pushed deeper, heart banging against my ribs. Fog got so thick the phone flashlight barely cut through it. Then… a pale glow up ahead. Floating lamps bobbing gently. Thought “Cool, villagers must be close!” Rushed towards the lights. Big mistake. The lights weren’t lanterns. They were eyes. Dozens of sickly yellow eyes inside a shifting, shapeless dark mass blocking the path – like living, breathing shadows swallowing the light. It had no mouth, just… eyes. And they all locked onto me. Froze solid. Felt this heavy, cold dread press down like a physical weight. Couldn’t move my legs. Whispered “Nurikabe?” – that wall yokai thing. It didn’t move. Just watched. Emptied the rest of my salt onto the ground in a shaky line. The eyes blinked slowly, one by one. The mass seemed to… fade sideways into the thicker mist, dissolving. Left me shaking on the path.
Things Went Downhill Fast
Tried heading back. Path vanished. Fog felt thicker, heavier. Started seeing shapes – long-necked women silhouetted against trees, something dripping wet crawling near a stream. Then came the laughter. High-pitched, giggly, echoing from everywhere. Saw flashes of bright red kimono between distant trees. Knew this one – Kuchisake-onna. The slit-mouthed woman. The laughter kept getting closer, bouncing left and right. Hid behind the biggest tree trunk I could find, holding grandma’s crucifix like a security blanket. Heard wet footsteps sloshing in mud nearby. Held my breath. The giggling stopped right behind the tree. Felt cold air prickle my neck. Slammed my back hard against the bark, squeezing my eyes shut. Silence. Counted to thirty. Peeked. Just fog and dark woods. Didn’t wait. Ran blind, bushes tearing at my clothes, branches whipping my face. Didn’t stop till I tripped onto a dirt road near a decrepit shrine gate.
The Walk Back & Reality Check
Stumbled back to the train station covered in mud, ripped jacket, scratches everywhere. Phone was dead, missed all photo ops. Train ride home was dead quiet except for my shaky breathing. The crucifix felt ice-cold in my pocket. Salt bag was empty. Got home, crashed for twelve hours straight.
- Lesson? Dumb luck and table salt ain’t a survival plan.
- Actual research? Mandatory. Shrine charms next time. Lots.
- Respect? Not just cool stories. Felt pure terror.
Survived? Barely. Thrilled? Yeah. Smart? Hell no. Would I try again? Maybe… with a real damn guide. That forest owns the night. Learned the hard way – folklore ain’t cute cartoons. That silence after the laughter stopped? Chills me now, typing this. Survival ain’t guaranteed.
