[So a few people have told their stories, and finally Watanuki decides to bite the bullet and go through with this. He has plenty of experiences that would make for fantastic stories, and maybe he can scare some sense into everyone.]
To understand this story, first I have to tell you about a tradition called 'the 100 ghost stories'. When a group of people decide to do 'the 100 ghost stories', they gather in a room with 100 candles. Each person takes turns telling a story about a supernatural experience, and when they finish the story they blow out one of the candles. In the end, when the 100th story has been told and the 100th candle has been blown out, ghosts can enter the room and mingle among the storytellers. Or so the legend goes.
One night, a group of four friends gathered at a temple to do 'the 100 ghost stories'. They set everything up in one of the far back rooms of the temple, so that they wouldn't disturb the family that lived there. But you see, there shouldn't have been anyone in the room next door. As it turned out, that area of the temple was indeed a resting place of sorts: it was where the priests prepared the bodies of the dead before their funerals, and the room next door was where the bodies were stored. So it was very quiet, and perfect for ghost stories.
The stories started out as you would expect: each friend taking a turn telling a story, and the others listening intently. But as the friends told more stories and blew out more candles, a sense of unease began to settle in the room. A foul odor began to waft in, making the friends grimace and cover their noses. And eventually, as they continued the stories, they started to hear a noise coming from the next room over. A soft, quiet scratching noise. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
But they continued with their stories, intent on finishing all of them. Soon, they were down to the last candle, and a boy was telling the very last story, with the room barely visible under the flicker of light from that final candle. But as the storyteller was finishing his story, his three friends noticed something: behind him, through the rice-paper walls, they could see shapes moving about. It was as if people were in the room next door, looking for a way in.
The three friends tried to warn the fourth, to tell him that something was wrong. But he finished his story, and he blew out the last candle. Then, as soon as the light faded from the room and everything fell dark, the sound of tearing rice paper could be heard. The three friends heard the fourth scream, but that scream was cut off suddenly. By the time one of the other friends was able to turn the lights on, the fourth friend was gone. The only proof that anything had happened was his pair of shoes left by the door, and the dozen or so fist-sized holes in the rice-paper wall just behind where he had been sitting.
[Watanuki pauses here, looking over everyone's faces to see their reactions. Then, he finally speaks again:]
And that right there, that is why you shouldn't ever underestimate the risks of telling ghost stories!
Now with 100% more storytelling
To understand this story, first I have to tell you about a tradition called 'the 100 ghost stories'. When a group of people decide to do 'the 100 ghost stories', they gather in a room with 100 candles. Each person takes turns telling a story about a supernatural experience, and when they finish the story they blow out one of the candles. In the end, when the 100th story has been told and the 100th candle has been blown out, ghosts can enter the room and mingle among the storytellers. Or so the legend goes.
One night, a group of four friends gathered at a temple to do 'the 100 ghost stories'. They set everything up in one of the far back rooms of the temple, so that they wouldn't disturb the family that lived there. But you see, there shouldn't have been anyone in the room next door. As it turned out, that area of the temple was indeed a resting place of sorts: it was where the priests prepared the bodies of the dead before their funerals, and the room next door was where the bodies were stored. So it was very quiet, and perfect for ghost stories.
The stories started out as you would expect: each friend taking a turn telling a story, and the others listening intently. But as the friends told more stories and blew out more candles, a sense of unease began to settle in the room. A foul odor began to waft in, making the friends grimace and cover their noses. And eventually, as they continued the stories, they started to hear a noise coming from the next room over. A soft, quiet scratching noise. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
But they continued with their stories, intent on finishing all of them. Soon, they were down to the last candle, and a boy was telling the very last story, with the room barely visible under the flicker of light from that final candle. But as the storyteller was finishing his story, his three friends noticed something: behind him, through the rice-paper walls, they could see shapes moving about. It was as if people were in the room next door, looking for a way in.
The three friends tried to warn the fourth, to tell him that something was wrong. But he finished his story, and he blew out the last candle. Then, as soon as the light faded from the room and everything fell dark, the sound of tearing rice paper could be heard. The three friends heard the fourth scream, but that scream was cut off suddenly. By the time one of the other friends was able to turn the lights on, the fourth friend was gone. The only proof that anything had happened was his pair of shoes left by the door, and the dozen or so fist-sized holes in the rice-paper wall just behind where he had been sitting.
[Watanuki pauses here, looking over everyone's faces to see their reactions. Then, he finally speaks again:]
And that right there, that is why you shouldn't ever underestimate the risks of telling ghost stories!