My Modern Kaidan

Chapter 15

My body won't cooperate. The news continues to play in front of my face as my heartbeat pulses into my ears. The figure behind me gets closer, seperating me from the front door.

Before my mind can catch up, instinct sends me rocketing up off my seat with so much force that the feet of the couch scrape against the floor. It's fight or flight time.

I yank open the shōji panel closest to me and run out into the garden. The walls may be high but at least there's places to hide. I can only count on my parents heading home at this very moment.

I turn and slam the panel shut behind me, grabbing the shovel my dad left propped against the wall and haphazardly wedging the handle into the track.

I back away from the panel, suddenly all too aware that there are several ways to get into the garden. The door begins to shake, but it's as though the person on the other side isn't even trying. Then it stops.

Then comes the tearing. I watch in horror as my worst fear since we moved in comes true before my very eyes, that the shōji panels are as thin as they look, offering no security, and now a dwindling barrier.

I can't watch anymore. I run for the far end of the garden and wedge myself between the wall and a tall leafy tree.

The tearing continues and I press myself up against the hard concrete. I'm literally backed into a corner.

"Ha-chi-to-ri," the voice cuts through the thick garden air.

I shut my eyes and listen. The footsteps are soft and only audible when leaves crunch underfoot.

"Come out." The voice is soft and low, a native Japanese speaker, foreign sounding in a way that there's something off about it, something sick. "Mai-chan."

My skin crawls as I move slowly across the wall, trying to make my way back towards the house. I gasp but breath gets caught in the back of my throat, never making it to my lungs as the ground gives way beneath me. I land hard on my back, my hands like claws as I try in vain to get up, dirt sliding and giving way underneath my fingernails. I'm in a hole, maybe four feet deep. Food wrappers stick to my arms, Kyabetsu Tarō, my dad's favorite. Glass clangs against my head, a bottle of mom's favorite wine.

I look up as a shadow covers me and our eyes meet for the first time.

"Got you."