Onryō

 

When I open my eyes I notice immediately that something is different. Something is wrong. A horrible wailing sound is scratching at my ears from somewhere. I manoeuvre myself into onto my hands and knees, swiveling my head around, and that is when I see them. 

My mother, beside herself with tears, shrieking and screaming over something small and bundled in a soiled cloth that she is gripping with a fierce intensity. There is a crowd of people surrounding her and I feel a tinge of embarrassment that they have to witness her in this state of hysteria. I try to call out to her, but my throat is tied shut with barbed wire and every attempt to yell sends its sharp blades digging into my neck, drawing blood. 

I edge closer, I am so exhausted, and I notice that for some strange reason I cannot remember, I am covered in a number of wounds and scars. Crawling around the crowd, I finally reach her, look down into the bundle she clutches and let out a bloodcurdling scream. I scream and scream, until the barbed wire around my neck feels like it is choking me to death, and notice with a horrified start that nobody has noticed me scream; they are all grief stricken, staring at my mother and that hideous bundle. It is me that she carries. It is my corpse. What is that deep grisly gash in my chest? There is a gaping hole where my heart should be but my mother holds me to her, ignoring the blood streaming from me that is staining her best dress. 

And then I see you, trying to shy away from the crowd, eyes averted from the tragic scene in front of you. My spirit-body begins to shake and quiver with rage and grief and I feel the overwhelming urge to attack you. I want to grab your face with my wounded hands and force you to gaze upon it. Look at me, look at my body, look at what you have done to me. You cannot, will not escape your guilt. I am dead, I am worse than dead. Even in death I cannot escape what has been done to me, I must enter my afterlife with these black bruises and these reminders of how my soul has been desecrated. This is who I am now; some kind of ugly, restless spirit.