The relatives I stayed with as a kid were all found dead in that tunnel

okay I wasn't going to post this but I genuinely need people to read it because I've been sitting with this for 15 years.

So this is set in rural Japan, 1994. I was in 4th grade, summer break. My mom had to fly overseas to visit my dad who was posted abroad for work, and I didn't have a passport. So she couldn't take me.

Both sets of grandparents had already passed, so the plan was to leave me with some distant relatives for a week. And I mean distant. Like barely-counts-as-family distant. The household was: grandma (90ish), dad (55ish), mom (49ish), a 22-year-old daughter, an 18-year-old son. Deep countryside, 200km from my house. We're talking wood-fired baths and a pit toilet in 1994. RURAL.

Anyway. The family was genuinely sweet to me at first, total strangers treating me like one of their own. Day two, the older son and daughter took me to explore this abandoned railway tunnel. Long enough that you could barely see the light at the other end. Took about 20 minutes to walk through.

The whole time they didn't say a single word.

Not one word. I was a little kid and I was so scared and I couldn't even explain why. We came out the other side and looped back home.

That night everything changed. The whole family went cold. Stiff. Like something had happened but nobody would tell me. I was a kid, I just thought I'd done something wrong and I felt so anxious I couldn't sleep. It was boiling hot, tons of bugs everywhere, completely miserable.

I got up to get some air and as I passed the kitchen I heard them talking quietly.

"He's not one of ours after all..."

"That's why I said I didn't want this..."

Oh. I just stood there. Even at that age I understood. I was a burden. I was unwanted. I went back to my room and cried myself to sleep.

Woke up the next morning drenched. Sheets completely soaked with cold sweat. I thought I'd get yelled at but the aunt just washed and hung them without saying anything.

That day the grandma and aunt went out so I wandered the village alone. It took me three days to notice but... there were SO MANY graves. Like, everywhere. Barely any houses. Maybe two neighbors total. Just this quiet, desolate little place.

Came home that evening. Nobody there.

Walked through the whole house. Empty.

I went to the garden to check if the sheets had dried and.

They were bright red.

Soaked through. Completely crimson.

I froze. I was absolutely terrified. I didn't understand what I was seeing.

9pm and still nobody home. No food in the house. No snacks, nothing. Outside was pitch black, not a single streetlight. Midsummer but I was shaking from cold.

The phone rang.

I sprinted to it.

"Hello?"

It was the older daughter.

"We won't be coming home tonight. Go to sleep ahead of us."

And that was it. I crawled under the covers and just. waited. Waited for morning with every light I could find on.

Next morning came. Still nobody.

And then I heard my mom's voice at the front door calling my name.

My mom. Who was supposed to be overseas for a week. Standing at the door of this house 200km from home.

I didn't even question it. I just saw her face and felt so relieved I could have collapsed. She grabbed my hand and basically ran us out of there. Didn't explain anything. Didn't look back. Held my hand the entire drive home and said nothing.

For 15 years she never once brought it up.

A few weeks ago I finally asked her.

"Hey... do you think that family is doing okay now?"

She went quiet for a long time.

Then she said: "Actually... the very day I left you there, I got a phone call. They told me to come get you. Right away."

So she'd dropped everything and flown back immediately.

And then she told me the rest.

That family. All of them. Were found in that tunnel.

The one I walked through with the son and daughter on day two.

All of them. Covered in blood.