A Midsummer Obon Ghost Story: 'On the Other Side of the Welcome Fire'

Episode 1: Returning Home

August 13th.

The heat haze rising from the asphalt made the air itself shimmer.

Although the cicadas had been chirping so loudly during the day that it felt like they would break my ears, as dusk fell, their voices vanished all at once, unnaturally.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

“So, you’ve come again this year.”

My grandmother’s house is at the very end of a small village surrounded by mountains.

It was built over a hundred years ago.

Darkened pillars.
A slightly slanted hallway.
Floorboards that creak with every step.

Even though I loved this house when I was little because it felt like a secret base, now that I’ve returned as an adult, a strange sense of pressure clings to my chest.

When I opened the front door, the scent of incense tickled my nose.

My grandmother smiled.

“Welcome back.”

Even though I should have felt relieved seeing that smile, my spine remained cold.

There was a welcome fire in front of the Buddhist altar.

My grandmother said quietly,

“Today is the day they return, you know.”

Who?

I started to ask, but swallowed the words.

Outside the window.

I felt like someone was standing there.

White clothes.

Long hair.

But when I looked again, there was no one.

Just my imagination.

The moment I tried to think that,

Clack...

A sound came from the second floor.

My grandmother didn’t change her expression at all.

“Ah, they’ve come again this year.”

“...Who?”

My grandmother smiled slowly.

“The people who have returned.”

That night.

I couldn’t sleep.

Midnight.

Two-forty in the morning.

Creak...

Creak...

Someone was walking on the second floor.

At a steady pace.

Slowly.

Coming toward this room.

My breathing became shallow.

Only my heart was beating with an abnormally loud sound.

The footsteps stopped in front of the room.

Tap...

Just once.

The paper sliding door was tapped.

I didn’t have the courage to open it.

I kept my eyes closed under the covers until morning.

Episode 2: The Unfamiliar Family

When morning came, the cicadas were chirping as if last night’s terror had been a lie.

“Was it a dream?”

I thought as I looked at the Buddhist altar.

One stick of incense was broken.

My grandmother said nothing.

Past noon.

We headed to visit the grave.

The mountain path was humid, and the smell of soil was thick.

It was just as I pressed my hands together at my grandfather’s grave.

The wind stopped.

Complete silence.

And then, by my ear,

“...Thank you.”

I heard it clearly.

A small voice, neither male nor female.

I turned around.

No one was there.

But in the corner of my vision, a figure was standing.

Five of them.

An old man.

A woman.

A child.

All unfamiliar faces.

Yet, they were all looking at me.

For an instant.

Truly just for an instant.

The next moment, they had vanished.

“Did you see them?”

My grandmother asked.

“...See what?”

“Your ancestors.”

My heart felt like it was going to stop.

That night.

Footsteps again.

This time, not just in the hallway.

The sound of someone coming down the stairs.

The sound of drinking water.

Laughter.

Voices talking.

It felt like there were over ten people in the house.

Yet, there was no one.

I’m scared.

Even though I’m scared, I can’t cover my ears.

I suddenly looked at the window.

A black shadow was standing in the garden.

It was looking at me.

Only its eyes were strangely white.

At that moment.

All the sounds in the house stopped.

The black shadow took a step forward.

At the same time, the bell at the Buddhist altar,

Ding...

Rang, even though no one had touched it.

The black shadow slowly backed away and melted into the darkness.

My grandmother whispered quietly,

“They couldn’t get in.”

Episode 3: The Chain

From the next day, strange things continued.

The clock stopped at 2:40 every day.

An unknown old man appeared in photographs.

Silent calls on my mobile phone.

When I answered, there was only a static sound.

At night, the sound of footsteps walking down the hallway was constant.

Days without sleep continued.

My mind was being whittled away little by little.

“If this keeps up, I’ll go crazy.”

I’ll go home.

I decided.

I got into the car.

I turned the ignition.

It wouldn’t start.

No matter how many times I tried, it wouldn’t move.

It was at that moment.

The rearview mirror.

The backseat.

A black shadow was sitting there.

My heart froze.

I turned around.

No one was there.

I looked at the mirror again.

This time, the face was close enough to be right in front of me.

I screamed.

At that moment.

Thud!!

The whole car shook violently.

Something had hit it.

I jumped outside.

There was no one there.

However, behind the car, a large deer had collapsed.

If I had started driving a few seconds earlier.

I would have collided head-on.

My grandmother walked over.

“That’s why you couldn’t leave.”

“...Huh?”

“They stopped you.”

Who?

My grandmother looked up at the sky.

“Your ancestors.”

Final Episode: The Farewell Fire

August 16th.

The day of the farewell fire.

The sunset was dyeing the mountains red.

My grandmother lit the fire quietly.

The flame was small.

Yet, it was somehow warm.

At that moment.

That black shadow appeared again.

This time, in front of the house.

It was slowly approaching.

The air was heavy.

I couldn’t breathe.

My body wouldn’t move.

Just as the shadow was a few steps away, a strange thing happened.

Figures began to appear around the house.

One.

Two.

Five.

Ten.

Twenty.

Men and women of all ages.

Not a single one of them spoke a word.

They just quietly surrounded the house in a circle.

Their forms were translucent, as if melting into the twilight.

Among them was the figure of my grandfather, who had passed away when I was young.

There was also my great-grandfather, whom I only knew from photographs.

Even people I had never met were standing there.

The black shadow stopped moving.

It took a step back.

Another step.

Eventually, as it twisted its body as if in pain, it vanished like smoke.

At that moment.

A gust of wind blew.

The flame of the farewell fire flickered gently.

From somewhere, many voices overlapped.

“Stay well.”

“See you next year.”

I couldn’t stop the tears.

My body, which had been trembling with fear, felt strangely warm.

My grandmother smiled beside me.

“Were you scared?”

I nodded.

My grandmother patted my shoulder gently.

“But you know.”

“Obon isn’t a scary time.”

“It’s the day when the family who have returned come to see if you are living well this year, too.”

I look up at the sky.

A sky full of stars was spread out.

The footsteps that were walking on the second floor that day.

The bell at the Buddhist altar.

The empty hallway.

The “thank you” by my ear.

That wasn’t fear.

It was the presence of my family who had returned.

And to protect me from the “something” that was trying to get close to the house until the very end, my ancestors had been standing there in an invisible place.

People may look like they live alone, but that is not the truth.

Even if they aren’t visible to the eye.

Even if you don’t know their names.

Perhaps we are surrounded by as much invisible kindness as there are lives that have been passed down.

That is why I will press my hands together at the welcome fire this year, too.

“Please come back again.”

As I whispered that, the wind chime rang once, quietly.

In Closing

Thank you so much for reading until the end.

When summer comes, many people find themselves missing ghost stories, don't they?

Even though they are supposed to be scary, for some reason, we read them.

Perhaps that is not simply because we are seeking fear, but because we believe in “something invisible” somewhere in our hearts.

Actually, there has been a legend like this about Obon since long ago.

“If a child is seen staring at an empty space in the house and smiling during Obon, it means an ancestor has come to visit.”

Of course, I don’t know if it’s true.

But it seems that quite a few people have seen small children or animals staring intently at a place where no one is, or waving happily.

Things that cannot be explained by science.

Yet, things that cannot be entirely denied either.

Don’t you have any such mysterious experiences, too?

If you’d like, please tell me in the comments about an experience where you thought, “What was that...?” or any mysterious events related to Obon.

“My child was waving at a place where no one was.”
“I had a dream about a deceased family member.”
“I’ve had an experience I can’t explain.”

Any small event is very welcome.

I look forward to reading everyone’s experiences.

Well then, I will see you in the next story.

On this hot summer night, may you also be gently watched over by your ancestors.