Kaidan

Our wisdom flows so sweet. Taste and see...

TRANSMIT - initiate the haunted frequency - RECEIVE - initiate the Edo folktales - WANT TO SEE SOMETHING REALLY SCARY? - prepare for a Gathering of One Hundred Supernatural Tales - WITNESS - Kaidan.

In ancient Japan, we were named Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai by those who could perceive us. Names are currency, sweetling, and in return, we taught them the game that would help their children survive in this secret and strange world.

Stories become mythology, mythos infects the mind, becomes communal memory. There are places where the stories seep into the buildings and trees and roads. There is a district in Tokyo where the windows stare like heavy-lidded eyes. Put your ear to a wall, against door, against a skull, and listen to the whispered stories like the sea in a shell...

Would you like to play a game? Your meat minds operate at more bearable levels when you are at play. Listen.

"Are you there, Hanako-san?" you ask, in the ritual manner. Always in the third stall from the end. Always on the third knock. "Yes, I'm here," says a little girl's voice. An irresistable force pulls you into the toilet to drown.

You might hear Gashadokuro gnashing his teeth before you see him. You might suffer an odd ringing in your ear. The skeletal remains of starvation victims make up his bulk. Is that a ninety-foot skeleton ripping off your head and drinking your life blood? No. That is ridiculous.

Aka Manto! Aka Manto! The red cape. In the bathroom a voice will ask you, "Red paper or blue?" There is no right answer.

Have you ever heard the story of Cow Head, sweetling? Of course not. You are still alive.

Teke Teke. That is the name. That is the sound: teke-teke. She drags whats left of her with hand and elbow. If you tell her taht she's only half there, she will make you half gone.

A voice will ask you, "Am I beautiful?" She is a tall woman, dark of hair, in a long trench coat and a surgical mask. Her name is Kuchisake-Onna. Her name is the Split Mouth Woman.

There is a video tape. It can kill the viewer within twenty-four hours. Don't believe us, sweetling? The best hiding places are in popular culture.

Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai! One hundred tales. And then a hundred more. The game never ends. Some of these stories carry truth. Some of these stories are only word viruses. Infection is imminent.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss-I am the word virus-let me in.

Hiya chuck, It's John.

The problem with ghost stories is they empower the old and long gone. I say THEY have been playing games with you for too long, Chuck. Buzz off! I say move on. Get on with it. This world doesn't belong to the ancient dead anymore. It belongs to us.

Stop telling ghost stories. Become your own ghost story. I can show you how, Chuck. I can show you how to be a voracious abstract.

See you, Chuck ...