First of all, english is not my native language. Apologizing in advance for potential grammar or spelling errors!
This summer I decided to fulfill a dream I’ve had since I was ten years old. I moved from Sweden to Tokyo to study japanese for three months. Now I’ve been here for seven weeks and minute doesn't pass without me wanting to check flights back home. I’m absolutely terrified of what haunts my apartment.
I’m not gonna waste words on describing the culture clash that occurs when you, as a swede, move to Japan, however I will describe some of the most relevant first impressions. My experience with long-time traveling is that it's 70% the most amazing time of your life (imagine: lying on a sunny beach, eating great food, having no responsibilities) and 30% your worst nightmare (imagine: 48 hour bus rides accompanied by food poisoning). This trip has turned those numbers around for me. My school was located in one of Tokyo's northern wards, and during my first week I spent everyday exploring as much of the city as I could. I was completely overwhelmed with impressions, and I loved every single second of it. I loved the food, the people, the language and just the atmosphere itself. The only thing I didn't love was my dormitory. I stayed at the school dormitory due to the fact that is was cheap and convenient. My roommate was a sweet girl from Thailand who didn't speak a word of english. We tried to have a conversation in japanese the same day I moved in, but the attempt was quite unsuccessful. Mostly due to the fact that my japanese speaking-ability was limited to “where can I find the postoffice?” and “how much is this?” - phrases you seldom use when trying to make new friends.
At the end of my first week I started to feel lonely, having very few people to talk to in neither swedish or english. The thai-girl that I shared room with constantly had her gang of friends over and while I laid in bed, either studying or watching Netflix, they were so loud I couldn't focus. To be honest, I wasn't as much annoyed as I was jealous. There I were, 15 hour flight away from family and friends and all these girls seemed to have the time of their life with each other. Whenever they were over, they chattered and laughed together a lot, which made me miss my own friends even more. Both the dormitory kitchen and common room was was always crammed with people, so I had nowhere to go when I wanted to leave my room. I could have made more efforts to make friends - I’m willing to admit that. But the language barrier was too much for me. Adding the fact that conversation often went silent for a few seconds whenever I entered either the common room or kitchen and people stared at me didn't make the situation better. Wanting to avoid both my own room and the common spaces in the dormitory wasn't a situation that was gonna last. So far the 70/30 long time travel ratio was accurate - 70% in love with Tokyo, 30% loathing my dorm.
After two weeks I’d had enough and decided to move out. As a non-japanese citizen getting your own place in Tokyo is extremely difficult and often super expensive so I went to my school for help. A few days later the only english-speaking member of the staff in called me and was very pleased to tell me that she had found an apartment that I could rent as long as the school's representative stood on the contract. It was only two stations away from the school with the Yamanote line (a very central part of Tokyo’s municipal traffic) and the rent wasn't as high as I had expected. That night I felt so relieved and thrilled I fell asleep immediately after going to bed, even though my roommate and her friends watched a k-drama on the tv while giggling immensely.
The very next weekend I arrived at the apartment with all my things in a huge rucksack on my back. It was the third week in June, it was hot and humid due to the fact that the rain-season had just begun - hence I was covered in both my own sweat and rainwater. It was not at all like the dry cold swedish weather I was used to and I longed for the AC in the apartment. I used my new key, turned the doorknob and went in. The apartment was super-tiny and had a weird, sort of moist smell to it. Thankfully, the place had wooden floors instead of tatami mat, which I found inconvenient since I didn't know how to clean it. I put down my large rucksack in the apartment's main room and began to explore it. There was a kitchen the size of 1 square meter which you could access from the main room and and a toilet and shower that was maybe around 1,5 square meters which you could access from the tiny hallway. The place could have used a good renovation, but everything seemed to be in order, the electricity was working just fine and there were hot water in both the bathroom and kitchen. The walls were painted white - probably at least ten years ago since they were lightly stained and yellow spots occurred at several places. In the main room there were two windows, which were larger than the japanese standard. Over then hung metal sund-blinds. In the kitchen there was a small window pretty close to the ceiling, but it gave the tiny kitchen a feeling of warmth. Overall the apartment was sparsely furnished, with a mattress on the floor in the main room and a small table right in front of it. It had no book shelves, no chairs and no dining table.
I made myself at home and starting to put my things in the wardrobe (which was built into the wall - japanese style) when I discovered a cabinet at the bottom of it. Cabinets for storing futon beds, sheets and covers are very common in japanese homes but this was the first time I actually saw one one the floor of a wardrobe. I couldn't see any handle, so I tried to open it by pushing my fingernails into the fine interstice between wardrobe floor and cabinet-door. I pushed my fingernails across the edge of the hatch and pulled upwards. It was stuck. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t open it. After getting a splinter under my index-fingernail, I swore out loudly and gave up. My finger was bleeding and after pulling out the rather splinter it itched for several minutes. I made a mental note to ask the landlord about the cabinet the next week when I was going to his office to sign some insurance papers. What was the point of having a cabinet that did not open? At least not from the outside - a tiny voice said in my head. The thought made me shiver. I decided to ignore it.
I explored the rest of the cabinets in the main room, and in the cabinet above my bed I discovered something. An object was lying on the bottom at the back of the cabinet. It was dark and I used the flashlight on my phone to see. I reached my hand in and pulled out the object. It was a package of cigarettes and a lighter. How come the previous resident had hid, and apparently forgot, about this? I’d had the bad habit of smoking during my teenage years, and after 20 something I’d managed to almost quit completely. Nowadays I only lit a cigarette at special occasions. The package was black and from a japanese brand I didn't recognize. Without thinking too much, I put it in my schoolbag. Maybe I’d treat myself one after my first japanese exam was done. I prefered these kind of cabinets, even though they were dusty and apparently held items from previous residents, at least I knew that they contained. What could be hidden in the locked cabinet in the wardrobe? My thoughts went to an article I read online a few years ago. A japanese homeless women had lived in a closet in a man's apartment for 6 years without him noticing. Everyday when he went to work she came out from the closet and had a small bite of all the food in his refrigerator. Eventually the man noticed that small pieces of food was missing and put up a camera to find out how it happened. He supposedly watched the film of the women getting out of his closet and then getting back in - sitting right in front of the closet. I can’t imagine how scared he must’ve felt. If the story is true, that is.
Cooking makes me relax and the joy of being able to cook by myself in my own kitchen soon made me forget all about the cabinet. I whipped up an omelette, fried meat and vegetables and boiled some rice. I had my dinner on the floor of the main room while watching Rick and Morty episodes on my laptop. As soon as I had finished I stood up and walked over the wooden floor to the tiny kitchen, while the Rick and Morty episode was still playing in the background. Maybe the experience from living in the noisy dorm actually changed my preference for sounds, because for some reason silence made me very uncomfortable. I started to do the dishes when I heard something from the other room. I froze still. A very light creaky sound could be heard through the noise coming from my laptop. It sounded like something scraping at wood, but it was barely hearable. I slowly pulled of my washing gloves and peeked into the other room. None was there, obviously. I scanned the room to find the source of the noise and immediately realised it came from the wardrobe. I got goosebumps all over my arms. It sounded like a rat was in there, scraping it's tiny but sharp paws against the closed door. Then it suddenly stopped. I’d been holding my breath without realising it and let out a long sigh. I went back into the kitchen. It must’ve been some plumbing in the wall behind the closet making that sort of noise. I refused to let my imagination make up “The Grudge” or “The Ring” inspired fantasies. I liked this apartment, and I were gonna stay in it. I went to bed and plugged in my earphones to make sure I wouldn't hear that scraping sound again.
At 3.30 in the morning I woke up. I had exaggerated the temperature on the AC and the room was now freezing cold, so I reached for the remote control to turn it of. The room was dark but before I went to sleep I’d put the remote control on the floor right next to my bed. I fumbled in the dark. It wasn't there. For some reason my thoughts went to the wardrobe and I glanced in that direction. It was, to my great relief, closed. I went up and turned off the AC manually by pushing a button. As soon as I had done that I heard a noise from behind me. I flew around quickly. It had sounded like light steps on the wooden floor, but I couldn't see anyone. The room was quite dark, but some strings of light from the street signs outside fell in through the windows sun-blinds, which I had not closed entirely. Slowly and carefully I made my way back to the bed and just as I was about to lie down I heard something again. There it was! the same scraping sound from the closet. Something very small and sharp scraped against the wardrobe door from the inside. Over and over again. First it was quiet for three-four seconds maybe. And then it started again from the top of the door and pulled downwards. I must be imagining things. I practically threw myself into the bed and pulled the cover above my head, plugged in my earphones, put on a swedish podcast and decided that it was all a dream. The idea that I had moved in a haunted japanese apartment was both frightening and ridiculous. I was being silly. My imagination must be playing tricks on me. This was a great apartment - I tried to convince myself before I fell asleep.
In the morning I woke up with my pyjamas glued to my body. Due to the fact that the AC had been completely turned off my room, it felt like I had woken up inside an oven. Daylight fell in through the window and again I started searching for the remote control for the AC. After a couple of minutes of thoroughly looking around the small room I got up from bed and turned the AC on manually. I had breakfast, went to school and afterwards had a cup of coffee with my first real friend, a japanese guy named Hiro. Hiro was from Osaka, but had lived two year in the United states, which made having conversations in english very easy. I’d met him through an after school club at the university. He was very easy to talk to, but I didn't mention the weird events that had taken place the night before in my apartment. I did however tell him that I had left the dorm and now had my own place. He became very excited when I told him which neighbourhood I now lived in - apparently his grandma lived only three blocks away from my apartment. Considering how huge Tokyo is this was a rather remarkable coincidence. Hiro promised he would pass by the next time he was visiting his grandmother, and then we said goodbye and I went home.
Silent raindrops fell down on my umbrella as I stood outside my front door. While feeling a bit uneasy I turned the doorknob and went in. After shaking of most of the water from the umbrella, I went in and closed the door behind me. it made a clicking sound when the door locked automatically. I quickly lit the lights in the main room and pulled out my laptop from my bag and started playing some music while putting groceries in the kitchen. Before I went to bed I yet again opened the closet and stared at the cabinet at the bottom. With a dull knife I tried to bend it open from different angles, but the cabinet didn’t seem to move the slightest. With a deep sigh I gave up and went to bed.
At 3:00 I woke up in an instant. I’d heard noise again. That tapping of light steps on the wooden floor. A feeling of panic went through my body and I immediately got out of bed and turned the lights on. The closet door was wide open. I were 100% sure that I had closed it properly before going to bed. It felt like my stomached turned itself inside out at the sight of it. First hesitating for a few seconds then I slowly walked across the room and looked at the closet. Cold sweat made my hands moist and I could barely hold my phone. Not sure why I clinged onto it, it just made me feel safer. Like I wasn't all alone in there, even though I most certainly were. Right? There couldn't be anyone else there, could it? I turned my head and looked at the front door. It was still closed. Then I turned my head back and looked in the closet. The cabinet was open. Shivers went down my spine and my heart started racing. Shit. This was real. The apartment was actually haunted by something. Carefully I peeked into the cabinet. There was a very small space down there and it was extremely filthy. An odd smell came from it, like the smell of moist mold mixed with burnt wood. With my heart pounding in my chest I bent over the cabinet and looked straight down in the cramped, dark space. At the bottom of the cabinet, surrounded by dust, long black strings of hair and other kinds of dirt was an object that didn't seem to fit in. It had a light grey color and a smooth surface. The remote control for the AC.
Insight struck like lighting. Whatever it was that was living in the filthy cabinet, apparently it liked to play games. I took a step back and while a million thoughts went through my head I did what was the nearest to surviving instinct I had and slammed the closet door shut. Or rather, I tried to. For some reason it wouldn't close. I put both my hands on it and pushed with all my strength, but something kept it from closing. After a few seconds of pushing I started to look along the edge of the door and when my glance reached the right corner of the door I screamed out loud and flew away backwards. There was a small hand there. A small hand coming out from the closet. The four fingers was grabbing the edge of the door hard. If I hadn't turned on the lights earlier I probably wouldn't have noticed it, but there it was. The skin was pale, there were black dirt around each fingernail and thin blue veins were visible through the white skin on the knuckles. It looked like it could have belonged to a small child. Knowing that with I must’ve pinched those tiny fingers in the door opening pretty hard made me feel nauseous. Right in front of my eyes the small hand let go of the door pulled back into the wardrobe. My mind went blank. I felt tears silently falling from my eyes. I sat frozen, staring at the closet for almost a minute and then got up and got into the bathroom. Due to a knee-injury I had experienced two years earlier I had some pretty strong sleeping medication, I popped three pills and once and then fell asleep on the floor in the shower. Before I went into deep sleep I think I heard those light steps again on the wooden floor in the other room.
I woke up 10 hours later, my body aching bad. I had been sleeping in the fetal position and the hard bathroom floor had made all my limbs sore. Realising I already missed most of the school day made me feel awful. Remembering why I had slept in the bathroom to begin with made me feel even more awful. The effect of the sleeping pills made my brain slower than usual. I left the bathroom and in the afternoon sun the other room didn't seem as frightening as it had during the night. Maybe the medicine had made me unable to think properly. My mouth was dry and my throat sore so I had a large glass of water. When the water poured down my throat It felt like life slowly returned to me. I took another glass of water and ended up drinking it while sitting in front of the closet door, staring at it while massaging my temples. It couldn't have been a dream, could it? well I guess there was only one way to find out. I swallowed the last of the water with determination.
I flung the wardrobe door open, expecting it to look like it had before the cabinet was opened. To my great surprise, the cabinet was still open. It was revealing its dark and dirty inside just as it had during the night. It couldn't have been a dream after all. I didn't want to look down in that filthy cabinet again, so I begun to close the wardrobe door. I stopped when I caught a glimpse of something in the wardrobe that made me flinch. Even when the lights was on, it was dark in there and now in daylight I noticed something on the small door to the cabinet. The square door that I had tried so hard to open earlier was now standing upright, showing me the side of the door that, while it was closed, was facing the inside of the cabinet. There were marks on on it. Long thin cuts in the wood. The deepest cuts were covered in dark brown stains. At first, the long thin marks looked like a cut out pattern, but I had to lean in to be able to see properly. In doing so I grabbed the handle of the wardrobe door and accidentally struck my index finger in which I had gotten a large splinter in the night before. “HELVETE!” I shouted angrily on reflex, and then fear made me freeze. I looked at my finger and then at the strange marks on the inside of the cabinet door. Small fingers, most likely bleeding and full of splinters, had tried to tear the door apart from the inside. The noise of something very tiny scratching on wood. There had been someone in the cabinet. Judging from the size of the marks, someone with very small hands, like a child. Like the small hand that had stopped me from closing the wardrobe door yesterday. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice on me. The feeling of panic poured over me and I had to bite myself in the lip not to scream out loud again.
I put on some clothes and started to collect all my most necessary valuables. When I tugged my charger from the wall socket, I saw something right next to my bed. It was the remote control for the AC. While I’d been sleeping on the bathroom floor, it had somehow made its way back. In my head I imagined the tiny, dirty hand putting it there. I left the apartment immediately. Now I’m at a café in Ueno. I texted Hiro and said there had been and emergency and that I need somewhere to crash tonight. He said he was busy at work but that he would meet me here in about three hours. I’ve spent those hours writing down what I’ve experienced these last few days.
I'd planned to attach a picture of the cabinet but for some reason my phone shut down every time I tried. The battery has been a little sketchy lately, so it's either that or that whatever lives in there doesn't wanna get caught on camera. Eventually I will have to go back, I will try to take a new picture then.
Submitted June 26, 2017 at 08:59PM by S_ML http://ift.tt/2td4jyz nosleep
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