Hello! It has been an absolutely long time since I've done anything. Also because today or tonight is Halloween, I thought I'd post this new story on Halloween! You will notice similarities from Jigoku Shoujo (though I haven't seen it in years-don't know if I got much of the detail right) FYI! I just wanted to try horror for a change since I freakin love them. Anyways, I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own it, but if I did! Oh, the things I'd do lol
The Red Room
By: Hoozuki
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The Beginning
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"In a dark time, the eye begins to see."-Cavett Roberts
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It was dark and humid that night. The cicadas and crickets were especially loud this evening, bringing the forest to life. The glowing full moon was more ominous than peaceful as she shined her light on a small secluded village. The village was a quiet little place; the population was only about fifty or so people—about twenty or more families. The village was a small farming community with one physician, three law enforcers, a tiny supermarket, and single beat up bar. They survived by exporting their crops to the larger towns outside of the forest miles away. Of course, like most small villages, rituals and traditions are used to help good crops grow every year. This village's particular ritual and tradition is so sacred that no outsiders were allowed to know. The ritual happens every seven years on the night of the full moon. However, five years ago, the ritual went wrong and the crops have been dying with the lack of rain and business slowed from no productions. This night, the villagers were going to set everything right again.
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Start
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In the center of the small village square, each and every one of the villagers were gathered with lanterns and flashlights, standing around a hole in the ground with a statue of their god of agriculture next to it. On the edge of the hole stood two people holding the third person by the shoulders who was kneeling. The two who stood was a man and woman: the man was a red-head while the woman was a blonde—both of whom were in their late thirties. The person they were holding down was a girl of twelve years with short pink hair dressed in a simple white kimono—which symbols innocence and purity—with a white blindfold over her eyes. However, the blindfold wasn't tied tight enough, allowing her left green eye to see part of her surroundings. Fear and anxiety were running wildly in her body as it froze in terror. While the priest of the village chanted the rites of the ritual, the girl was trying to undo her restraints. There were constant murmurs and whispers circulating around the gathering—prayers that the god will forgive them for not giving him the sacrifices.
One of the villagers was fidgeting uncontrollably, glancing here and there for intruders. "We should hurry with the ritual, Yamagi-san," the fidgeting man urged, flicking his wide eyes to the bound girl. "Before she uses her powers against us like she did Mizutani."
The priest, Yamagi, ignored him as if he didn't hear the man. In front of the priest was his daughter, holding an ancient tome. She glared at the nervous man with impatience. "Shouta, calm down," she reprimanded, her voice low and strong. "If we want to have good crops this year, we must do the ritual correctly—not like last time. Especially now that we know that the Haruno girl's spiritual—"
"I thought it was psychic powers!" one person blurted from the crowd.
"Whatever! The point is—she has supernatural powers that would be good to appease the god with," the daughter said with exasperation. "We can't let a good opportunity like this go to waste. We need to do everything properly this time—no mistakes." When the priest was done, the woman looked at her father questioningly. "Is the ritual done, Otousan?"
He shook his head as his old gray eyes fell on the sacrifice. "Not yet," his croaky voice responded. "We need to throw the sacrifice in; Kizashi, Mebuki—please throw Sakura-chan into the hole."
Upon hearing the words, the twelve year old began to struggle against the hands holding her. The two adults nodded, and lifted the child underneath her shoulders, hovering her over the edge.
"Otousan! Okaasan! Onegai! Onegai!" she begged, tears running down her face as she desperately fought against the ropes that were biting into her wrists. "Don't let them do this! Please!"
Mebuki shook her head sadly. "Sakura, please understand; this is for the good of the village."
"Yes, for the good of the village—the greater good always outweighs the one," Kizashi added melancholically. "It's the only way."
"No! No, it's not! Please snap out of it before you regret it!" Sakura screamed, digging the heels of her feet into the dirt. "Please, this isn't you!"
Everyone averted their gazes elsewhere, feeling the guilt at sacrificing the child and many others before her. It was the way of things here. Sacrifice one seven-year-old every seven years from each family during a full moon near the summer solstice. Everything had gone smoothly every seven years: the children never knew what was going on and just thought their friends died of sicknesses. But, five years ago, when it was the Harunos turn to sacrifice their child, unbeknownst to them, the child was able to dig her way out and escaped into the woods. It was when she snuck in to save her little brother that they found out she was alive and the cause of their misfortunes.
The priest apologized and nodded for the Haruno parents to throw their daughter into the pit. Sakura gasped, now sobbing for them to let her go as Mebuki bent down to give a kiss on her forehead.
"You'll see us again soon, Sakura," her mother reassured with love, and then backed away as the Haruno patriarch lifted his daughter over the hole and dropped her into the darkness. Her mother and father embraced each other, avoiding their daughter's wide-eye gaze. The men standing by the pit picked up their shovels, lifting and dropping the dirt over the child's body all the while ignoring the screams of anger and betrayal. They kept pouring and pouring and pouring until the very last thing they saw was her wide, bloodshot, cold green eye.
The final thing they heard was her warning, that she'd come back to kill every single one of them. When the very last shovel of dirt sealed up the pit, the villagers stood in silence too shaken up by her words. They all stared at one another before going back to the Haruno's place to pray and mourn for the lost of two more children.
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Preface
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It was past midnight going well into two in the morning. Although the village was quiet, in each of the houses, the residents were restless with unease from the child's ominous warning. The clocks were ticking ever so thunderously with each minute that passes as the night continues on. Once comforting, the sounds of summer bugs were now nails on a chalkboard. As the night dragged on, it seemed everything was getting deafening and nerve-wrecking.
Yamagi-san was tossing and turning in his bed as her words echoed in the walls of his mind. He tossed the blanket off his body which was drenched with perspiration when he suddenly caught something from the corner of his eye. The old man snapped his gaze to the window on his right, sighing in relief when it was just the silhouette of the tree. Breathing deeply through in his nose, the priest calmed himself and sunk low into his mattress, closing his tired lids. Taking another full breath of air, he turned to his side with his back to the door.
Creak!
Gray brows furrowed at the sound, wondering if the dog got into his room again and grunted. When no sound was made, Yamagi-san groaned, opening his eyes as he turned to see what the dog was doing. However, he saw human feet, and assumed it was his daughter at the door.
"Chitose, what are you doing by the door?" he demanded, annoyed because it was two in the morning. She didn't answer back; he let out a low sigh, suspecting she was worried about the Haruno girl. The old man was tired; he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease the ache there. "Look, those were empty words, dear. Go back to sleep."
Still, he received no response and heard no movements of leaving. It was then he noticed when silence finally sank in. There was a dripping sound in the background. It was so quiet and subtle that he probably wouldn't have noticed it on a regular night. The drips fell consecutively at first in perfect rhythm until it started to slow down to an agonizing pit…pit…pit…
The priest suddenly felt as if a large weight was dropped onto his chest and everything was moving in slow motion. His throat was dry; he felt the need to swallow the lump in his throat and lick his chapped lips. His eyes opened and were looking at the feet by the doorframe. The room was so dark he didn't see that there were smudges of dirt and mud on them. But it was what the feet were standing in that made his heart freeze in horror and panic as he let out a raspy gasp. Reflecting the light of the moon was blood in copious amounts that he was sure no one could survive without bleeding out. Ominously, the reflection of the moon was red—a red moon was a bad omen in their village, a warning that something bad was about to happen or had happened. He lifted his gaze in deliberate slowness and gagged when his eyes fix on the source of all the blood—the head of his daughter severed brutally with blood just dripping from the open wound—being held by a small pale and dirty hand. When he finally landed his gaze on the face, before he could even let out a scream…the last image he saw was a wide, sadistic smile.
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Foreword
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Still unable to sleep, Kizashi was even now thinking about his first born. He had never had to sacrifice his own child before, and was feeling all the more guilty. Sure, he'd help others through the transition of sacrificing their own; but, it was another story when it's your own blood. Everyone in the community has had older siblings sacrificed before them and were therefore spared. At first, it was completely devastating and traumatizing when the adults explained the situation. However, as time passed by and as he grew older, watching children younger than him becoming a sacrifice, he gradually understood that it was a way of life, and there was nothing he could do about it.
But that view was shattered when Sakura was born. Mebuki became more and more overwhelmed with panic and stress as each birthday arrived until she snapped and took out her rage on Sakura. When Sakura turned seven years old, she was so happy; she ran throughout the village—suddenly forgetting the abuse she had endure—telling the residents to come to the Haruno house to celebrate with them. But Kizashi knew better—or, at least, he thought he did. The night they buried her, he made sure to loosen her ropes; he gave her the tightest embrace, advising her to escape the village when the people dispersed after the ritual.
That night was the final time he ever saw her until today. Back then, he didn't realize the consequences of letting a sacrifice escape—of course, he wasn't really superstitious at the time, either. It wasn't until he suffered the full brunt force of the god's wrath that he finally comprehended why they sacrificed children—it was so they could survive. The children were a blessing—without them, the village would die. So when his eldest showed up to save her seven-year-old brother from becoming another sacrifice, he knew that it was up to him to restore the balance. With two sacrifices, their god would forgive for such impudence and disrespect. But because the Harunos had sacrificed two children, they were going to bury their youngest in the family cemetery. In spite of everything he did to atone for his sins, Kizashi had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He flinched when a sudden image of his daughter's eyes flashed into his head.
'They were so red,' he reflected with a shiver. 'Even her tears ran red…'
Feeling he can no longer get to sleep, Kizashi sat up from his bed—halting in his movements when he felt his wife shift on the other side. Letting out a quiet sigh, Kizashi left his bedroom for the bathroom across the hall. After rinsing his face of the sweat, he stayed bent over the sink to calm himself before drying his face. As he patted the towel across his face, his Sakura blossom necklace fell from its place underneath his shirt. He never took it off. Looking at it, he felt a deep sadness well up inside him. It was a gift from his daughter for his birthday, telling him that she cared and loved her papa. Closing his eyes to keep the tears from spilling, Kizashi tucked the necklace back in its proper place, and went downstairs to the kitchen. Time seemed to move much slowly for him now that everything was finally over. He could, at long last, let go of the heavy burden on his shoulders.
As he was drinking his glass of water, Kizashi noticed how bright it looked outside, and paused midway in his sips. Light gray pink brows furrowed as old, dull blue eyes glanced at the kitchen clock; it read four a.m. Now alarmed, he pulled back the curtains over the sink, the metal rings screeching noisily over the iron rod. His hand went numb as the glass slipped shattered on the tile floor while he took in the scene before him. The entire village was on fire. The buildings were next to nothing, making him wonder how long it burned for. Noticing the ground for the first time, his gaze narrowed at the randomly spread chunks across the dirt ground, curious as to what it was. Then…it felt like someone had slapped him across the face as he let out a strangled choke when he eventually realized what the chunks on the dirt was; they were body parts, and they were everywhere—some of which were still twitching. Quickly, Kizashi secure the locks on his windows, his hands shaking wildly with fear.
Splash!
Thump!
Thump!
Across the clear glass was a large splatter of blood with bits and pieces of flesh stuck to the surface. His breath caught in his throat, unable to let out a scream. Staring at the amount of blood sprayed across the glass, he knew that the person—whoever it was, it was hard to tell—did not survive the attack, and was no longer of this world. His leg suddenly felt heavy and deaden; his body unable to move as his ears picked up on the horrifying screams and shouts of his village. He moved his face closer to the window to see if anyone else was out there that he could possibly help. 'Maybe I can escape with Mebuki through the woods,' he presumed, trying to formulate a plan, gazing at the trees on the far right of his house.
Thump!
"AH!" the man cried loudly in fright, sweat dripping down his cheek.
There, in the window before him, was his eldest staring at him with her eyes large and red filled with empty malice. The image turned his stomach violently. His daughter combined with her innocence and what she did scared the holy hell out of him. Something about a twelve-year-old child with blossom pink hair, clear green eyes, and porcelain skin stained and practically dripping with blood was just so eerie and evil. He stumbled backwards as soon as she disappeared and breathe a sigh of relief. Hurriedly getting up and running back upstairs, Kizashi decided he was going to wake Mebuki and get her safely away from the village. As soon as his foot landed on the top floor, Mebuki's scream reverberated piercingly throughout the house with the sound of breaking glass following soon after. Startled and overflowing with dread, he raced into the bedroom to see Mebuki on the far left wall a foot off the floor unmoving as a large shard of glass hovered centimeters from her face. In the center of the room was Sakura, soiled from head to toe with blood and dirt smeared across her face and kimono. He was pretty sure he saw pieces of flesh on her as well.
Hearing his loud entrance, the child snapped her hatred-filled stare at her father as she also slammed him into wall beside the door with a wave of her left arm. And then it was nothing but silence, save for the sounds of crushing buildings outside.
He waited—waited for her to do something. 'Laugh! Cry! Scream!' he urged inwardly, not being able to stand the suspense any longer. 'Do something!'
As if hearing his thoughts, she responded with a sneer, "Don't rush to your death so soon, Otousan"—otousan being said mockingly.
On the other side of the room, her mother sobbed at full volume, begging for her life. "Please! Sakura-chan! Don't do this!" she wailed. "We're your parents! Please!"
At the plea, hearing some of the same words she cried earlier, Sakura, in one swift movement, turned her murderous look back at the woman who called herself her mother. At the same time, thinking inwardly how she wanted her mother to suffer, Sakura broke her arm. The bone twisted in the wrong direction and broke so loudly, it echoed off the walls, drowning out the crackling of the fire outside. Followed by the sickening crunch of the bone which could be seen protruding out from the torn, jagged skin was her mother's howl of pain and agony.
Stepping towards the Haruno matriarch as pieces of the glass cracked with each step, Sakura narrowed her eyes at the woman like she was dirt. "Where were you when I begged?! Where were you when I was buried?! 'Don't do this'—that's the same thing I asked you!" She dropped her head; her hands were clenched so hard to keep from shaking so much that blood could be seen seeping through her fists. "You don't deserve to be called my mother or father!" she spat angrily as if the words left a nasty taste on her tongue. "Not any of the people in this fucking village is allowed to die quickly."
Mebuki brought her cries down to hushed whimpers upon hearing the last sentence. "W-what are you g-going to do with us?" she asked in a scared whisper.
With a tilt of her head—pink strands clumped with blood covering her eyes, Sakura mentally thrust the large shard of glass into Mebuki's right shoulder so deep, it penetrated the wall. Ignoring Mebuki's second round of shrieking and begging, her right arm lifted as Sakura twisted her open hand to the right—the shard mimicking her movement, digging and tearing the muscles and tendons and ligaments. The child's head rose leisurely, revealing deranged eyes as she spoke softly, "I'm going to make sure to pay you back for everything you did."
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Opening
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The night continued on. Red and orange painted the night sky like blood, washing out any traces of stars. Screams and yells resonated deafening and endlessly into the empty woods, swallowed up in the darkness with no one the wiser…
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Take Off
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Konoha City…
The winds were howling loudly in Konoha City tonight as two boys were walking home late. The elder boy was seventeen years old with long black hair tied in a low ponytail with slightly tanned skin and black eyes. The young boy, the elder boy's sibling, had the same black hair and eyes, but his complexion was much paler and his hair much more unruly. There was a six year difference between them; however, the brothers were as so close as anyone and nothing could tear them apart. Though, the younger brother is much more shy than his older sibling, he is still willing to try things. Tonight, the older boy took his little brother out to have fun and relax from the stress their father has been putting on him; it had started off warm and then temperature suddenly dropped to near cool which concern the brothers as they strolled through the streets.
The younger boy abruptly stopped, feeling a chill down his neck as he turned to gaze up at the full moon. Something about the moon this evening sent shivers down his spine as he felt the light pull him in.
Noticing his little brother's behavior, the older boy stopped as well, concerned. "Sasuke, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, thinking that the stress is causing him to act strange.
Shaking his head out of the stupor, Sasuke looked back at his brother, smiling reassuringly. "Nothing, Itachi-niisan," he responded slowly. "Just a feeling, that's all."
"Well, let's head back soon or Mother will throw a fit," Itachi said jokingly. Sasuke nodded, and went back to his big brother's side.
'Still…I can't get rid of this feeling of unease…'
So I hope you liked it! I think I'm gonna enjoy writing this one. Btw, my little brother came up with the title. To him, the red room is the little dark corner of our minds that we don't really tread much, but in this case, Sakura's red room is extremely, extremely dark and scary and unpredictable.
On another note, I'm going to rewrite The White Rose because I feel like it got effed up somewhere along the way. I'm also thinking of rewriting an old story from my other account: Forget Me Not.
So I'm definitely going to keep going with this story (I'm really excited!), and I hope that you guys will follow the story as I update them and give me some support! Things are going to be traumatizing for Sakura and she'll have issues to jump over, but that's why we have Sasuke and Naruto!
Anyways, my life is getting along better these days, so I'm confident that I will get this story finished. You'll probably won't see me much when spring start since I'll be starting school then (I'll be going to school to be a legal drug dealer!). But in the meantime, since it's my semester off, there'll be more updates.
Please be kind and review. I would really love your opinions on this one!
Sincerely,
Hoozuki!