Dangerous Souls

Shoji no Noroi

"534!" a few of them exclaimed as they all sprinted out the door.

***

She was engulfed by the foreboding darkness again, it surrounded her. Was she standing? Floating? Sinking? Falling? She didn't know anymore. She only knew that she felt uneasy. She didn't like this place and Naru was nowhere to be found. Wasn't he supposed to guide her or something? So much for that idea.

The air around her felt heavy and ominous, it was hard for her to breathe. The visions came again. She could somewhat see them this time. The images wouldn't quite stick with her memory, but she saw one thing.

Blood.

A lot of blood.

Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of these images. Perhaps try to get a different vision. Something. Anything. Anything to change the gruesome illusions. Her eyes closed as she shook her head harder. When she opened them again she was somewhere else.

It was one of the hotel rooms, that was for sure. She sat in some sort of armchair, by the window. Curious, she stood up to investigate the room. Judging by the moonlight coming from outside it would have to be close to midnight.

There's no way it's that late, right? she thought to herself. She walked over to the dresser, a piece of paper lay on top of it. It's a letter...

She picked it up and read some of it. It's not finished... she noted, looking at the date and nearly jumped. This letter is from seventy years ago!

Footsteps sounded outside the main door. She scurried over to the far corner of the room, praying she wouldn't be noticed.

A man stumbled into the room, obviously drunk, tripping his way over to the dresser. He looked at the letter and crumpled it up, tossing it into the bottom drawer. He took another piece of paper and began writing. His eyes were in a daze as he stood in front of the mirror, completely oblivious to the girl in the corner, as he slit his throat with a knife he pulled out of his pocket.

She stood in shock as the vision morphed into a different time. The same room. The same time of day. Different man walking in. She took mental notes of the events, hoping to find a pattern.

The illusion morphed many times. Each time containing a gruesome death, with various differences. The concept was the same, someone would commit suicide in that room. The deaths varied. Slit throats. Slit writs. Stabs through the chest and abdomen. Hanging. Overdose. One man even swallowed sleeping pills and fell asleep in the bathroom in a tub of water. One thing was the same with each and every casualty. October 2nd.

Somewhere, in every vision, the date October 2nd was evident on either a calendar or a letter or even a watch. With each death, the passing seemed to be in a drunken state, but this last vision, seemed to not follow the pattern.

The man walked into the room on October 2nd one year ago, as stated by the day planner on the nightstand next to where she stood. His eyes were not glazed over. He was not stumbling. He was not drunk. Yet she knew he would die. He had to. It followed the pattern and it was nearing midnight. Yet nothing would happen.

The man's body suddenly stiffened and he struggled in vain attempts to move. She immediately felt a shift in the air, it was colder and heavier, making her heart race. The man's arm was forcefully moved to grab a pen and paper. He swore every word one could think of in that moment as his arm, with a mind of its own began to write.

He attempted to cry out for help, but his screams were swallowed by some unseen force. He began to panic as something invisible opened the top dresser drawer. A Swiss army knife floated up and opened, moving towards the man's throat. His last attempt to scream was in vain as it was silenced by one quick slice.