Since yesterday's ghost story essay was quite well-received, I'll try writing a continuation.
I love ghost stories, so I read them often. When looking at ghost stories online, I often see a specific type of comment: "I'm tired of stories where the reader gets cursed."
This hits home for me because I've written them myself. I actually quite like that genre.
My original experience with that type of story was the "Soshinahanoko" style children's ghost stories. I was born in the late Showa era, and when I was a kid, the "School Ghost Story" book series was a huge hit. It was a bit of an occult boom back then. Even children's gag manga had standard paranormal episodes.
Back then, TV regularly featured spirit photography, psychics, ESP, and Nostradamus's prophecies. Elementary schoolers lived in a world of mystery. From an adult perspective now, I realize occult themes are very convenient for media—they are easy to produce and always get a certain level of engagement. They are great fillers.
Then the Aum incident happened, and we entered an occult ice age.
To use a food analogy, the occult is like curry. When you're rotating a menu, it's easy to say, "Let's just have curry." It fits many ingredients and doesn't require multiple side dishes like a traditional Japanese meal.
Speaking of traditional Japanese meals, you need several dishes to make the menu feel right. You don't want to eat rice with just boiled spinach. And when you do make multiple dishes, people only eat what they like, so they never disappear at the same rate. Anyone who cooks for others knows this struggle... "Eat more of the ground meat and seaweed," or "Don't leave just a tiny bit of food, I can't wash the Tupperware." You end up thinking, "Fine, just have bread," or "The supermarket fried chicken is the best thing on the table, isn't it?"
I realized that the Showa-style Japanese meal with many dishes was meant for large families with a full-time homemaker. It's not sustainable for a household of two or three. It doesn't fit the times. That's why we feel, "Curry really saves the day."
Sorry, I got off track. You're probably overthinking now, right? Thinking this curry talk is a hint for the rest of the story? That's a bad habit—looking for the meta-narrative immediately. This is just an essay.
Back to the "cursed reader" stories. From a writer's perspective, they are incredibly convenient. As convenient as curry. Just think of them as curry.
I understand why readers get tired of them. It's a valid complaint. Let me explain why they are so "curry-like."
To explain this, I have to touch on a core writing technique. Honestly, as a writer, I don't want to say this. I don't want to leak techniques because leaked techniques become cliché. Basic writing skills are already becoming commoditized due to the rise of AI.
The rule is: "People generally don't read text they feel has nothing to do with them." It sounds obvious, but the most important techniques are often so obvious they are overlooked. It's an ironclad rule.
Writers use various techniques to make the reader think, "This concerns me." In this essay, I started by talking about "cursed stories," which builds a connection with people who agree. Then I talked about the ghost story boom for the older generation. Then I used the curry analogy to link a niche topic (ghost stories) to a general topic (food) to increase touchpoints.
Ghost stories are scarier when they aren't "someone else's problem." A story set in your hometown is scarier than one in a random place. Writers often add "This happened in [Region Name]" just to increase that connection.
So, "the reader is cursed" is a way to force a connection. It ensures the reader can't say, "This had nothing to do with me." It's just too convenient to pass up. Of course, I know it's for the writer's convenience, but sometimes you just want to use that gimmick.
By the way, nothing actually happens just by reading. If a curse could be triggered just by reading, life would be much harder. As long as you only read, you are absolutely safe. Unless you do something specific, you are fine. If you do do something, well, I don't know.
Now, as before, I won't just write criticism. Here is a scary story. But this time, it's a "scary story where something good might happen to the reader." You might be blessed.
Since "cursed" stories make some people unhappy, I'll offer a story that brings good things. This is "win-win-win": good for the reader, good for the writer, and good for them.
This is a story about a simple ritual. If successful, something good happens. Most likely, nothing will happen for 99% of you. Even for those who try, only about 10% might "bring something back." It's like a gacha ticket with a low drop rate. Don't expect too much, but it is a free ticket.
As I said, reading alone does nothing. You are safe unless you act. They won't find you if you do nothing.
The procedure is simple. Basically, you just sleep at home. If possible, purify yourself, clean your room, avoid stimulants, and use earplugs or an eye mask to sleep well. But it's not that strict.
Before sleeping, recite the following. Out loud is best, but in your mind is fine. You can look at your phone. The exact wording can vary as long as the gist is there. Magic isn't as formal as you think.
"Alkon of the fifth, Prince of the Cage, please let me into your place. I am coming to take the treasure of the princes. The golden bird can enter the cage and leave it freely, for where the golden bird is, there is always nothing. You allow the golden bird to take the treasure of the princes and fly from the cage. In the name of the Prince of the Cage, let me in."
Recite this until you feel satisfied—until something makes you feel "that's enough." It's different for everyone. It's best if you feel a switch flip in your head.
It might not work immediately. If nothing happens, try again the next night. It's like a door; knocking doesn't mean it opens instantly, but you have the right to keep knocking.
If the door opens, you will have a dream. You'll be more lucid than usual. The setting could be a town, school, or amusement park. The surface doesn't matter; only symbols have meaning. You must find the symbols.
You can move freely, jumping between dreams like a game. If you wake up without finding it, you can try again. Stay relaxed.
What you are looking for is the symbol of a cage. It represents Him. It often appears as a grid, wire mesh, an aquarium, a birdcage, or a fleshless skull.
If you find a cage, grid, or mesh, try to get inside. That is His place. Entering brings you closer to the treasure.
If you find an aquarium, birdcage, or small animal cage, make it yours. It is a guide. If there is a small animal inside, take it out and kill it without hesitation. It is nothing. The cage must be empty.
If the animal speaks, do not listen or believe it. This is a taboo. Their words are meaningless and often harmful. They are liars. The princes and their servants do not necessarily want you to have the treasure.
If the birdcage or aquarium is empty, it is very useful. Keep it with you.
If you find a skull, embrace it. It is useful. But if it speaks, ignore it. As long as you do, it won't harm you. If the skull has flesh on it, remove it. If you can't, leave it and walk away. It belongs to someone else.
There are rules to this game. As long as you follow them, the dream world will not harm you. If you get nothing, you just wake up and forget it, net zero.
Taboos:
- Ignore everything that speaks. They are lying enemies.
- Other characters in the dream are meaningless. Act alone. Guides are never human-shaped.
- Choosing from options: Focus on the numbers 3, 4, 12, and 13. Other numbers are misleads.
If choosing from 3: Pick the "middle" one (medium size, ordinary, etc.). Your counterpart belongs to the middle.
If choosing from 4: Pick the one suggesting "fire" (red, hot, glowing). Your counterpart belongs to fire. Avoid water, earth, or wind.
If choosing from 12: Pick the "5th" one. Your counterpart is the fifth being. Do not pick 1 through 4.
If there are no numbers: Pick the "middle one that suggests fire."
If choosing from 13: Take the 13th one first (it's your ally), then pick the 5th one from the remaining 12.
Your counterpart is "something like a god." Do not think of them as a "God"—that is dangerous. But do not think of them as a fake or a toy either. They dislike insults. Treat them as a "Prince"—someone with inherited power who deserves respect, but is not the King.
Symbols to avoid (if you see these, leave immediately; you are in the wrong field):
Crowns, stars, pillars of fire/light, dragons, maps, gems, human brains, hearts, clocks, pendulums, the sea, the moon, lungs, smoke, tornadoes, scales, hourglasses, hands, mirrors, butterflies, twins, Rorschach tests, lumps of flesh, tumors, cephalopods, sigils, runes, dictionaries, wax, fungi, large cheeses, coins, mud, blood, medicine bottles, glowing liquids, taxidermy, starless skies, soot.
Ending the game:
When you reach the destination, you will know. The treasure's appearance depends on your psyche. For example, you might find a black bathtub filled with liquid and a wooden mannequin. You will intuitively know it's the treasure. If there's a cutter nearby, you might shave off the mannequin's wooden flesh. It will scream and beg you to stop. Ignore it. Collect the wood shavings and wake up.
Reward:
If you fail, you just wake up as your usual self. If you succeed, you wake up with something added to you—a part of something else that is now part of you. It's like an "app" for your mind. I can't guarantee what it is, but it's usually useful.
Common rewards:
- A talent for lying or detecting lies.
- The ability to tune your personality (e.g., becoming cold-hearted or deeply moved at will).
- The right to obtain a powerful physical charm/talisman soon.
- A special protection where a pet or small animal dies in your place to avert disaster.
- Knowledge of a specific magical ritual process.
That is all. Reading is harmless. Rest easy.
