The small room was black and the floor slanted with a steep slope down towards the dingy East Village stage. The room was lit with 100 tiny led lights set on the floor and on the walls of the tiny theatre. The air smelled of sweetness and decay as the audience streamed in talking in hushed whispers or giggling as they sat on the long benches and waited wondering and dismissing what might have caused the floor’s stickiness.

On the stage was a low wooden table with five empty seats.

The audience hum got a little louder as they became restless. They waited for the “show” to start. A young man walked in. The last of the audience. He looked like he might have come into the small theater by mistake but stumbled into a seat in one of the benches towards the back anyway. He nervously twisted the theater program in his hands. A large woman with a shopping bag sitting near him looked him up and down before turning to her friend who then leaned over to stare as well. He was oblivious, looking intently at the stage with equal measures of trepidation and excitement.

Suddenly a gong rang out and the audience hushed.

 

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A woman dressed in a beautiful dark dragon kimono and zori slippers walked gracefully on stage. She seemed to float her way across to the table and skillfully set down a tray with a beautiful wasabi colored tea service down on the table. “Welcome to the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai. This Hayakumonogatari will be similar to those held in ancient Japan. The Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai is a game of storytelling and courage.
By entering this humble theater you have agreed to bear witness and listen as well as share your most frightening stories with us. These are stories of creatures and phantoms of the in-between. As each story is told we will turn off a light. When all the lights are off, then all 100 stories will have been shared and the rea lm of the in-between will open to us. Then we will see if these are stories worthy of this game. Will the demon realm open by the power of our words or will they just be stories without value except to entertain and while away the night. Only those with true courage who remain for the 100th story will know the truth.”

At this, the gong went off again and the woman bowed deeply to the audience. Her cheery red-painted lips curling up in a gleeful smile.

Four ushers suddenly walked down the aisle. With gestures, they would bow and invite audience members to walk down to the stage. Some nodded and followed the ushers, while others flatly rejected the invitations. The kimono dressed woman would take each audience member by the hand as they reached the stage and guide them to the table to take a seat. When the four were finally seated, the woman poured them each a cup of tea and began.

“Please let us introduce ourselves. I will start. My name is Furi (ふり). I am your host. And please what is your name?” An older man with white hair and spectacles smiled. I’m George Keyman. Nice to meet you, miss Furi. She nodded at him and fluttered her eyelashes as she smiled. She then motioned to the woman next to him. The woman was tall, lanky, and bitter. She frowned at the host “What do you need my name for anyway. I’m here to play this game, that should be enough.” The host smiled brightly unperturbed and motioned her long-fingered hand to the next person. “I’m Janice Lomonte,” said the petite brunette. She was cute and wore her dark hair short. A pleasure to meet you Miss Furi smiled as she continued “and last we have?” The man sighed “I am Andrew Polasky. Nice to meet you, miss.” She smiled at the four of them. Her small white teeth showing. “We are ready. Who will begin?” Sensing their hesitation, “Don’t worry as host I will start unless someone else would like to be first? No one? Very well, here is my story.”

Several years ago I visited a beautiful Shinto shrine in Tokyo Japan, purely by chance. The shrine is called the Fushimi Sanpō Inari Shrine. It was pouring rain and I was rushing past it after a long day at work on my way home but slipped on the slick wet sidewalk. An old man helped me up and insisted I walk a few steps back to the shrine where I could sit a moment and get out of the rain. My knee started bleeding so having no choice I let him help me. We sat on the porch of a small austere house behind the shrine. He gave me hot tea and cleaned out the wound then placing an herb poultice and then wrapping it with a clean bandage. Once he was done, I found out that he was the monk that took care of the shrine. While we waited out the rain he told me the story of the Kitsune and the farmer.

Many years in the past lived a poor farmer, Masanobu. He lived near the woods overlooking a terraced hill where he grew rice. Although his life was hard he did not mind, for he loved growing new life and harvesting the land’s bounty. But as the farmer grew older, in his loneliness he wished for a wife. Being in such a remote area he did not see many people except when he traveled for three days into town to sell his rice. Every year before setting off on his journey to town he would go into the woods and thank the rice God for all his bounty.

Deep in the woods was a small shrine carved into an ancient tree. He would leave an offering of sake, ocha, and rice to Inari, the God of cultivation. At the entrance of the small shrine were two small fox carvings, that stood as guardians. Before he would leave, the farmer would always wipe the small guardians clean and rake the grounds leaving them neat and orderly in gratitude to the God’s kindness. As he was getting ready to leave he witnessed two lovely birds as they sang songs to each other. Masanobu’s heart was heavy as he thought even the little bird has a mate he loves. With that he left under the watchful eyes of Inari.

He then travels as always into town and stays in a small ryokan (traditional Japanese Inn) in the town’s outskirts. He enjoy a nice meal and sake by himself, before selling his rice early the next morning. One time the whole Ryokan was awoken with the noise of yelling and stomping. A large gruff Samurai flanked by seven soldiers ordered the innkeeper and all the guests to assemble in the main dining room. It seemed that an important Daimyo had been found with his throat slit and all travelers were questioned and their papers checked. Disappointed, the Samurai had to let everyone go after examining their arms and shoulders. One of the guards had managed to wound the assassin with an arrow before he escaped. Going back to sleep he thought nothing more about the incident.

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Deep in the woods, a kitsune (a magical fox) dragged herself as she bled from the wound in her shoulder. The Kitsune was a fox spirit that had been trapped by an evil wizard and made to steal the life of the Daimyo. She hated the wizard but he was too powerful for the young kitsune. And now she would pay the price of his evil and her own with her life. Finally, she collapsed waiting for death. She panted as the last of her life force left her happy in the knowledge that death would free her soul from the evil wizard. Inari the God of rice felt the soul of the little kitsune leaving her body. He stepped from a cloud onto the forest floor and caught the kitsune’s soul before it disappeared into nothingness. With the breath of life he blew magic into her face and instead of a dead fox lay a beautiful sleeping woman. You see Kitsune are shape shifters. From a fox to a handsome man, or a beautiful woman.

He picked up the young woman and carried her to the farmer’s home. Just as Masanobu arrived, Inari dressed as a merchant explained that he found her in the woods. He left her in care of the farmer, for he had urgent business in the far off Fukuoka province, but promised to return.

The farmer took great care of her. He named her Kiyomi for she was beautiful and fair and had lost all her memories, even that of her own name. Slowly she recovered the use of her arm and even the ugly scar disappeared. Masanobu feared with every day as she grew stronger she would leave him. But what grew instead was a golden light within her heart that blossomed into love. They married, and within a year had a son.

The same week that their son was born. Their farm’s Inu (dog) also gave birth to a puppy. They were delighted for now their son would have a companion and protector. For that first year, they were filled with love and joy as their son grew and grew and so did the Inu.

One day Reiji and his mother went into the forest to collect firewood. As they neared the shrine the dog started growling at Kiyomi. They were both stunned when the loving dog threw himself at Kiyomi who was in truth a Kitsune. For the pup could see her true form. Injured she ran and sought refuge in the shrine. But as soon as she stepped inside she regained her true form and all her memories. Shocked her son Reiji ran for his father. When they arrived the Kitsune stood before them in her form of a woman but also with nine foxtails and fox ears growing from her head.

The Kitsune informed them that her real name is Tamamo no Mae and she must leave them. With her memories back, her heart filled with hatred for the wizard for which she plans to find and kill.

Masanobu bows deeply and begs her forgiveness if he has offended her in any way but declares his steadfast love, and begs her not to leave. The Kitsune looks deeply into her husband and then her son and sadly shakes her head, no. She is a Kitsune and not a real woman. Her true nature now would never let her live in peace with them, but instead, trick or harm them. She tells them with tears in her eyes that she too will always love them but cannot stay because she would become a danger to any human that she stayed with. And so she turned fully into a fox and swiftly escaped into the forest leaving them both broken-hearted and alone.

It is said that if you enter those woods at night you can still hear Masanobu’s ghost calling for his wife. Kiyomi, come back.

The tale over Furi taking a fan out of her kimono sleeve and snaps it open fanning herself for a moment. Then snapping it closed she points at one of the lights in the wall and it goes out with a pop. Smiling Furi asks the four seated with her “you have heard my tale, and now it is your turn!”

And so someone will clear their throat and begin the next tale. Who will it be? Perhaps you? If it is, drop me a line with your story and your name and I will weave it into this ghostly game of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai.

Till next time your humble,

妖怪 作家
Yokai Writer