The nightmare cube that killed my coworker in 12 hours

I wasn't going to post this but I've been carrying this for 9 years and I just need to put it somewhere. Nothing changes by writing it down. I know that. But maybe the weight gets a little lighter.

So. 9 years ago I was working at an insurance company, third year in. I was a section chief with 4 people under me. Three of them (I'll call them I, T, and Y) were close enough that we'd go drinking together twice a week like clockwork. The fourth person isn't relevant to this story so I'm leaving them out.

One night we all split the tab at our usual bar and were heading out to grab taxis when I pulled out this wooden box. About the size of an apple. Visibly old and beat up, like it had been through some things. The thing had this mechanism where you had to align the wood grain in a specific direction to open it, like an old Rubik's cube puzzle. I said his dad gave it to him and it seemed like it predated the war. His words: "My dad never managed to open it either. He picked it up from the ruins after the war and just handed it down to me."

Two generations and nobody had ever gotten it open.

Here's the thing though. The moment I saw that box I felt something. A chill I couldn't explain. This is gonna sound unhinged but sometimes I'd see things, like people with upper and lower bodies that looked slightly off, or small animals missing a leg or missing legs entirely. I don't know what that means. But I was watching T and Y take turns trying to open the box and I was genuinely scared. Like some part of me DESPERATELY did not want that thing to open.

It didn't open that night. We'd only been outside maybe 5 minutes before everyone grabbed taxis and went home. Nothing happened.

Next day, I brings the box to the office. I'm at my desk during lunch trying to get work done and the three of them come over. I decided I'd rather damage the friendship than say nothing.

"I don't think you should open that box."

I looked confused and said "you sound just like my brother." Then smiled and said "I'll definitely open it soon and show you, don't worry" and walked away.

That was the whole lunch conversation.

After work the four of us had plans to go hanami (cherry blossom viewing) at a nearby park. Y's mom had sent homemade miso soup and we were sipping it and looking at the blossoms, which. was actually really nice. Then T goes "we need a photo of all four of us in front of this!" and pulls out a Polaroid camera.

We picked this massive beautiful cherry blossom tree as the backdrop and took the shot.

The photo came out weird. Reddish. The whole thing, just this faint red tint over everything. No reason for it, we were outside, no reflective surfaces. T said "eh, happens sometimes" and took another one.

Same thing.

T suggested we try individual shots instead, maybe group photos were picking up something weird. So we went in order: me, Y, I, T.

My photo came out fine. Y's photo came out fine.

Then it was I's turn.

First shot: redder than anything we'd taken before. Way more intense. T took another one and this time the red was gone but there was this thin yellowy film clinging around I's body, like a plastic wrap shifting around him. I was visibly weirded out but asked for one more.

T looked at the third photo and just went "what. WHAT. something is WRONG."

We all ran over.

Innumerable yellow hands. Reaching in from every direction and wrapped around I's entire upper body. You couldn't see his face. His lower body, the parts the hands hadn't reached, was soaked in vivid red.

I saw the photo and went pale. Then he confessed.

"Okay. After lunch I was making copies in the print room and I was messing with the box and... I opened it. There was a ragged cloth bag inside. It had writing on it that said 'die an honorable death for the Emperor.' I opened the bag and there were bundles of fingernails and hair inside. I was so disturbed I threw the whole thing in the incinerator."

We went to a Buddhist temple that same night. Brought the photos, asked the head monk to perform rites.

The monk looked at everything and said: "What you opened is extremely dangerous. Offering these photos won't calm the spirits' anger. You need to bring the wooden box itself. That is what must be offered. Please bring it."

He sent us home and told us to come back with the box.

That was I's last night alive.

The next morning we got the call. On his way home he'd been hit by a car near his house. His lower body got pulled under the burning tires and burned. His upper body was thrown 20 meters and that was it.

Upper body. Lower body. Separated.

The three of us went to his mother and got the box. Took it back to the temple.

The monk held it for a long time. Then: "This box IS the resentment. And it's stronger now than anything human. Calming these spirits will be very difficult. I want to perform the rites but it will take time. Are you willing to wait?"

I had gone from alive to dead in half a day. We couldn't think clearly. We weren't willing to wait. So we just asked the monk to chant protective sutras over us directly and...