The Mountain Road Urban Legend (this one actually got me)

So back in college, me and a club buddy decided to go on a late night drive. completely spontaneous. we drove way out to this ramen place in a nearby city and on the way back we had to take this winding mountain pass road. like WINDING. serpentine. the kind that makes you feel like the road is alive.

I'd driven it a few times during the day and it was fine. at night though?? completely different vibe. something just felt OFF. and i was the one driving which i did NOT want to be because i'm a huge coward, but my friend had knocked back a drink at the ramen place so he was just sitting in the passenger seat being all carefree and chatty.

then suddenly he lowers his voice.

"hey. this pass has all kinds of weird stories attached to it."

I had never heard anything like that before. I wanted to ask what stories, but i KNEW if i asked he'd just use it as an excuse to scare me. so i played it cool. "oh yeah?"

cold. disinterested. totally fine.

he went quiet after that. just... sat there with his head down, not saying anything. the road was two lanes but there wasn't a single car coming from the other direction. just sparse streetlights barely doing their job. we kept driving in silence.

then SUDDENLY this huge shape appeared in the headlights.

my heart stopped. but then i realized it was a stone jizo statue on the side of the road and i relaxed a little. okay. just a statue. makes sense one would be here.

That's when my quiet friend finally speaks up.

"hey. should i tell you a scary story?"

this guy. i KNEW the silence meant he was cooking something up.

now here's the thing. I wanted to say no. but my pride wouldn't let me. so I said "yeah sure whatever."

he kept his head down and started talking.

"my grandpa told me this. apparently there's a child buried in the garden of my grandpa's house. the house is super old. there's this weird stone in the corner of the garden and they say the child is buried underneath it."

"grandpa said that child has protected our family for generations. but the child is always angry. so every single day you have to wipe the area around that stone clean with water or something bad happens."

"grandpa and grandma did it every day. but i couldn't really believe it when i was a kid so i actually asked my great-great-grandfather when i visited him in the hospital. he was bedridden."

"and he confirmed it. said yeah, there's a child buried there. and then he said HE heard it from HIS grandfather. so we're talking ancient history. like so long ago that little-kid me just accepted it as fact immediately."

he kept talking, calm and steady. weird story for a weird mountain road.

"the child was like a zashiki-warashi¹, a guardian spirit of the house. but the buried part kept bugging me so i asked my great-great-grandfather. why is it buried? i said."

and RIGHT then, something appeared in the headlights.

I yanked the wheel to the other side without even thinking. it was only lit up for a second but it. did not look human.

was that a jizo statue?

that thought hit me and my blood went cold.

because I had already passed one.

the road was narrow. one-lane. there shouldn't have been two.

"my great-great-grandfather was lying in bed with his hands folded together," my friend said, eyes still down. "he whispered it. he said the head of our household back then brought home a child who could bring good fortune. and the family prospered greatly because of it. but no matter how much they wined and dined the child, the child kept trying to leave. so the head of the household drew a blade. cut off the child's limbs. and buried each piece in a different part of the house."

my head was spinning.

i didn't know where i was anymore. trees on both sides, same as before, but we should have been off this pass by now. we should NOT still be on this mountain. what was that jizo statue. there shouldn't have been two.

the road kept curving away from the headlights like it was running from them.

my friend kept going, head still down, pausing sometimes like he was remembering.

"after that our family's business boomed. but children kept dying young. family members kept dying from illness. my great-great-grandfather said the child brought fortune AND calamity at the same time. a god of both. that's why you have to keep the stone respected, to keep its anger down."

i couldn't take it anymore.

"hey. stop."

i meant to also say i don't know where we are. i meant to say we're going in circles. but the words didn't come out right. nothing was making sense anymore, not the road, not the story.

then i remembered the first thing he said.

"this pass has all kinds of weird stories."

what stories? he never told me what those were.

"this story is actually a secret in my family," he said. "normally i'm not supposed to tell anyone but—"

"HEY. I SAID STOP."

i was losing it.

he didn't look up. at first i thought he was messing with me but then i noticed his shoulders. they were shaking.

"there's something weird about this story and i asked about it. and my great-great-grandfather taught me a spell."

"what the hell why are you telling me this WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS"

"because—"

"THE OUTSIDE IS WRONG. don't you get it???"

i was desperate.

"so... when something like this happens, he said to say this. hoi hoi. where are your arms. where are your legs. where are you going carrying that pillar. where are you going carrying that grudge. hoi hoi."

it was like ice water poured straight into my chest.

i was shaking. full body. every hair standing up.

hoi hoi. the words echoed in my head.

and i found myself mumbling them. "hoi hoi..." gripping the steering wheel.

something like invisible fog began lifting from inside my head.

"please," my friend said.

just that. then he folded his hands together and went silent.

when i came back to myself we were already merging onto a wide road i recognized. we drove into the city. didn't say a single word until we were sitting inside a family restaurant.

then he told me.

somewhere on that pass, he'd seen a face. coming up through the gap at the bottom of the passenger side door.

that's when he stopped joking around.

a pale face had crawled up and it was grinning.

he knew it was bad. so the story he told me? he wasn't really telling it to me. he was telling it to the face.

it's a spell his family uses when someone is in danger.

"[the house—]"

(the post ends there)