Kick the Head, Move the Body

By Keller Agre

“I don’t think we’re going to make it,” I said.

“It’ll be fine, Grace. Is it our stop soon?” Ryan asked.

I tried to match the Japanese symbols on my phone to the ones on the bus’s screen. Was that a different symbol or font? We had been out all day, and my phone was nearly out of battery.

Ryan, unconcerned about anything, stared out the window. I regretted letting him spend so much time in one of the many arcades that littered Kyoto. He had his strengths, but if this trip to Japan were organized by him, it’d be a mess with most nights spent in the hotel. I suppose his helicopter parents were to blame. A controlled childhood instilled in Ryan a “hands-off” approach to life. He expected things to be done for him and, for the most part, they were. It was great to feel needed and appreciated, but it was becoming exhausting.

“According to the map, our stop is the one after this,” I told Ryan.

“Great. Is this temple going to look any different from the others?”

“It’ll look better than any of the temples you researched and found.”

“OK. You’re stressed. Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll get to see it if we run,” Ryan said.

“I’m the one who has to plan everything and figure something out if it’s closed.”

“We’ll just take a bus or train back,” Ryan offered.

“Yeah? Which bus? When’s it leaving? How many stops and then which train platform do we need to get on and where do we transfer?”

Ryan smiled and rubbed my leg. He put his arm around me, and I nestled into him. I could feel my heartbeat slowing. He had a talent for de-escalation.

The website said the temple would be closing in twenty minutes. Of course, there was bound to be a long gravel road that led to the ticket booth which, with any luck, wouldn’t be busy with other tourists who had budgeted their time poorly.

I noticed I was tapping my foot a little too loud. In other words, it wasn’t making any noise at all. You had to be ultra cognizant of how others were perceiving you in Japan. The countless unwritten social rules were beginning to feel suffocating. Even the rapid movement of my foot, although noiseless, was something I had to be aware of. I figured they were all judging me, regardless of the smiles and enthusiasm I had received the entire trip. Maybe my brutally honest family conditioned me to be this way.

Outside the bus, I could see bikers and snub-nosed cars politely navigating the roads. I stared at other passengers’ phones, feeling less guilty than at home because, here, I couldn’t understand the language. A Kyoto businessman in the single seat across the aisle from us, wearing a suit and expensive watch, fingered the cat keychain fastened to his work bag.

“Do you feel safer in Japan than other countries?” Ryan asked.

“Safer how?” I asked.

“You know…as a pretty young woman.” Ryan smiled wide.

“Absolutely. I would never walk around at home at night like I do here.”

“Good. I also feel very safe around here at night.”

Ryan paused.

“As long as none of the spirits come out.” He tightened his hold on me.

I laughed and said, “What was that one you were telling me about? Something about a woman with a long neck?”

“The rokurokubi,” Ryan said in a deeper voice than normal. “I love that one. A seductive woman during the day and, at night, her neck extends, and she becomes a vengeful spirit, thirsty for human blood. Some say they are actually just a different kind of spirit called a ‘nukekubi.’”

“And what is a ‘nukekubi?’” I loved listening to his stories even though most of them made me look over my shoulder.

“Their heads just come off and float or roll around. I really should keep these things to myself. Some believe talking about the spirits can summon them. But don’t worry. I know their weakness.” Ryan raised his eyebrows.

“What’s that? A kick in the head? That’s what I’d do.”

“No. You move the headless body while it’s separated, and the head doesn’t know where to return to,” Ryan said, proud of himself.

“What if you can’t find the body?” I asked, wanting to remove the smug expression from his face.

“That’s when you use your strategy,” Ryan said. I couldn’t help but smile.

This was our stop. It was time to excuse ourselves repeatedly until I was able to scan my transit card, decorated with Hello Kitty and other kawaii cartoons.

We made our way through the crowd, backpacks worn in front to avoid any unintentional contact, and touched our cards to the blue circle. After the sensor beeped and the green light confirmed we were free to get off the bus, I traded an “arigato gozaimasu” with the bus driver who was wearing a headset that projected his voice out to the passengers.

We ran as soon as our feet touched the pavement. A uniformed man waved us along as we made our way through the entrance gates. The sign above the ticket counter read “TEMPLE CLOSES AT 5:10.” Another sign, hard to miss after passing the ticket counter, read “STAY ON PATH.” I checked my newly acquired Casio watch and knew we had about ten minutes to explore the grounds. I placed a pair of one-thousand-yen notes on the teal plastic tray, and bowed at the woman who handed me my ticket, hoping she at least appreciated the gesture.

The loose rocks under our feet crunched as we jogged under the vivid reds of Japanese maples. We visited at the perfect time of year: late November. The autumnal yellows and oranges of the color-changing Japanese forests, spread on top of steep mountains, made me ashamed to have started traveling so late in life. I was only in my late twenties, but college and a career in healthcare had provided convenient excuses for a delayed first international trip.

The golden temple, still brilliant under dimming skies, appeared to me as the most impressive piece of architectural beauty in Japan. Other temples started to blend together. The same lines and colors, surrounded by hundreds of photo-greedy tourists and students dressed in traditional garb, made me skip the last few on our list. I knew from pictures that the golden pavilion, or Kinkaku-Ji, would be different. As with most temples we had visited, it was surrounded by a moat or, in this case, a pond. It reflected the unnatural hue of the sacred building in a way that outshined the original. The water’s ripples gave the appearance of shimmering, although slightly muted, lustrousness.

“And that is the end of the tour,” I heard a female voice say. “Thank you for your time. Please stay and I will take your picture if you’d like. But please hurry. Bad weather is coming.”

A tour group of about eight rounded the corner and joined us at the main viewing area. The tour guide, a pretty woman, was wearing a typical outfit from what I had observed in this country: conservative and almost colorless. Bangs, a popular hairstyle for Japanese women, concealed her forehead.

“Hey. She’s got a scarf on,” Ryan whispered.

“So?” I asked.

“What a good way for a nukekubi to hide her neck slit. I bet if we removed that scarf, there would be a line where her head comes off.”

“It’s thirty degrees. We’ve seen plenty of people with scarves here. I will admit, brown and yellow aren’t a great color combo.”

“I’m just saying,” Ryan said, shrugging his shoulders.

I looked down at my watch and said, “We gotta hurry. This place closes in five minutes.”

“Relax,” Ryan said.

Another woman, Australian I assumed based on her accent, was quietly crying and joined the group shortly after the rest had gathered.

“Excuse me, miss,” the crying woman said to the tour guide. “My husband went to the bathroom and never came out. I’m starting to worry. The park is closing soon.”

“I’m sorry. Can someone please check the bathroom?” The tour guide scanned the group before looking in our direction. “Sir?”

“Yes. Of course,” Ryan said. “I can check for you. Where is the bathroom?”

“It’s at the top of that hill,” the crying woman said. “Please see if he’s OK.”

“I’ll go check. What’s your name?” Ryan asked.

“I’m Lisa. His name is Tim.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Lisa. We’ll be right back. OK?” Ryan said, talking to the woman the same way I’d seen him speaking to his younger sisters.

Ryan started jogging up the hill lined with short trees and moss-covered rocks. I followed close behind. Once we crested the small mound, we arrived at a small structure. Blue crisscross lines wrapped around it like wrapping paper. The same blue and pink markers we used back home to distinguish the men’s from the women’s bathroom were present. Ryan rubbed the back of his neck and wiped his hands on his jeans. He raised and dropped his shoulders twice before moving toward the bathroom. He stopped, and I knew he was going to ask me to check for him. I believed this time was different. I thought a new country may change something. Maybe I wouldn’t be the one who had to do everything. Ryan was not great in stressful situations, which fortunately, we had not found ourselves in often during our relationship. When things were good, he was everything I ever wanted in a partner. He was kind, emotionally intelligent, and, best of all, the only person in the world who could make me laugh.

While I waited, I took the opportunity to enjoy another view of the beauty around me. On the back side of the temple, a small island, with room enough only for a single tree, lingered in the surrounding pond as if it were a planet in outer space. From this distance, the color of the temple stood out even more against its background. Further along the path, I saw a short waterfall that fed a river that ran under an ancient-looking bridge. I got tired of waiting. We didn’t have much time before closing.

“Hey. Everything OK?” I asked.

“I’m fine.”

“OK…do you want me to go in instead?”

“Can you?” Ryan asked.

“Sure,” I said. I was a little disappointed, but I didn’t know why since I expected this to happen.

I walked in and saw an ordinary Japanese bathroom. It was remarkably clean and tidy. I opened both stall doors and found nothing inside. A gong, I assumed to signify the park closing, rang in the distance. I exited the building, not excited to share the bad news.

“Was he in there?” Ryan asked.

“No,” I said. “I don’t want to break it to that woman, but I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just got lost and someone from security has him. He’ll be waiting for his wife at the entrance.”

“You’re right. Can you be the one to tell her?”

“Yes, Ryan,” I said, sighing.

We rushed down the hill and found that the rest of the tour group had already vacated the area, leaving only Lisa and the tour guide. Lisa looked at Ryan with hopeful eyes. Ryan turned to me and waited for me to speak.

“I’m sorry. He wasn’t in there. Maybe he’s waiting for you at the entrance,” I said.

“Oh,” Lisa said, on the verge of tears again. “Thank you for looking.”

I nodded at Lisa, and we watched as she and the tour guide made their way out of the park.

“We should go,” Ryan said.

“Can we keep following the path?” I pleaded. “There was this cute waterfall and bridge I wanted to check out. My coworker said it was a must-see.”

“The park is closed. I think we should get out of here,” Ryan said.

“C’mon. We’ll be quick.”

“Fine,” Ryan said. “Although I don’t feel comfortable with this.”

We ran up the hill, passing the bathroom, and arrived at the bridge. I stopped to admire the river’s clear water, barely visible at dusk.

“Can we go now?” Ryan asked. I sensed an urgency in his voice that didn’t come out often.

“The signs say we can exit this way too,” I said, pointing down the path in the direction opposite of where we’d come from. “We rode that bus forty-five minutes to get here.”

Ryan sighed and nodded his head.

The remainder of the path was less exciting. The same trees and bushes grew on either side of the path, and the darkening sky made it difficult to appreciate any of the natural beauty. The lack of light also made it hard to see the path. Drops of rain tapped my skin as if warning me of future dangers.

We finally descended the hill, which involved taking heavy steps onto stone stairs that were thoughtfully inserted for safety. Over time, however, these stones must have weathered away partially, causing visitors to need to place their foot carefully in the correct location. I attempted to access my phone’s flashlight, but it had died. I wished Ryan would light the way for me, but I knew he wouldn’t offer to. It wasn’t his fault. I made it clear I didn’t need help unless I specifically asked for it. We were approaching the bottom of the hill anyway.

I took a step down, with my full weight, onto one of these stones in the wrong place. A shock traveled up my right leg and I crumbled to my knees. I let out an embarrassing yelp. My hand went to my ankle. Nothing different yet. I had twisted my ankle enough times to know it would soon swell. I wasn’t sure the extent of what had happened. All I knew was that it felt weak, with a dull, aching pain.

“Oh my god, Grace, are you alright?” Ryan said, shining me with his flashlight and making me squint.

“My ankle. I think I heard a pop,” I said.

Ryan pointed his light down and, fortunately, I didn’t see his expression change. This at least meant it wasn’t visibly broken.

“It looks OK. Do you want to try to stand on it?”

“Just give me a minute.”

“I know you’re in pain, but I think we need to leave,” Ryan said.

“Fine!” I snapped. “I may have just broken my ankle, but if it’s so important to you!”

I knew this was a mistake, but occasionally I was fueled by spite. I would risk my own health for an I-told-you-so. I stood quickly, putting all my weight on the twisted ankle. I collapsed back down as soon as I did. Luckily, most of the pain had gone away and now, it only felt weak.

“See?” I said with a sharpness I knew would hurt Ryan.

“I’m sorry, Grace,” Ryan said. “Do you want to lean on me? I’m just worried they’re going to close the gates with us inside. And now it’s raining too.”

My time in Japan had provided me with a sense of security and trust. I had never experienced customer service as pleasant and helpful as I had starting when we touched down in the airport. But who knows what the smiling guides were thinking? Even when entering their country and going through immigration, they never made me feel guilty about existing like they did back home in New York. For this reason, I believed there would be some smiling Japanese man or woman waiting for us at the entrance, not bothered at all by our insensitivity, who would let us out and tell us “Thank you” while waving us goodbye.

“Help me up. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just fragile,” I said.

Ryan grabbed my hand and I rose to my feet. I put more weight than was probably necessary on him and we walked, or limped in my case, toward the exit.

“I should’ve been lighting the way for both of us,” Ryan said.

“You should have!” I shot back. Ryan winced.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asked.

“No. I’m fine. I just need to get off it once we’re back at the hotel,” I said.

We walked in silence, Ryan’s phone flashlight pointed forward. Every step felt as if I was going to put my foot in the wrong place now that I knew what it felt like. We arrived at the back entrance, which to my initial disappointment, was closed. Ryan pulled on the gate doors. They didn’t budge.

“Hello?” Ryan yelled. There was no answer, and the gates were far from the quiet street. 

“What do we do?” Ryan asked.

“Should we try where we came in?”

“Yes. Good idea,” Ryan said. “Wait here while I check?”

“Sure. Just don’t forget about me if it’s open.”

“I would never,” Ryan said, his concerned face making me regret my joke.

“I was kidding,” I said. “Hurry.”

Ryan ran toward the front entrance, and I sat on a small stone nearby. Could I even make it back up and down that hill with this ankle? Were we going to be fined if they found us here in the morning? No. We could just explain what happened. They would understand. The rain increased in intensity, causing the temperature to drop.

“Help!” I could hear Ryan yell in the distance. A sickly call that triggered my fight-or-flight response. My stomach tightened. Why didn’t I just listen to him? Ryan returned out of breath.

“Any luck? Were you able to get anyone’s attention?”

“No,” Ryan said, panic in his voice. “What’re we going to do? Are they going to arrest us?”

“Arrest us? No. As long as we have our passports and explain—”

“I don’t have it,” Ryan said.

“You don’t have your passport? Ryan, it’s illegal not to have it on you in Japan. I told you how important this was. Why don’t you have it?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan said, rubbing his hands together to self-soothe. “You were rushing us out this morning, and I think I took it out of the bag and put it in my jacket for dinner last night, and I don’t have it.”

“You think it’s my fault?”

“No. But maybe if you would’ve just given me a second to—”

“Shut up!” I shouted. “Leave me alone while I think.”

I had trouble with my temper, something I inherited from my father, and it was always better to excuse myself before the boiling and sharp sensation in my chest flowed out of my mouth. I hated that it felt good to yell at him. It would all be OK. We’d figure this out.

“Could you hop the fence and try to get help? There’s no way I can with this leg,” I said.

“I could, but what if they ask for my passport? Also, I don’t want to leave you here alone,” Ryan said.

“Why not? I’ll be fine.”

“I just really don’t want to be alone right now, and I really don’t want to leave you here alone for that long.”

“Ryan. What do you think is going to happen?”

“I just don’t have a good feeling about this place. You saw what happened with that woman’s husband. He just disappeared,” Ryan said.

I rolled my eyes and brought my hands to my face. Ryan was superstitious and believed in everything. I found his quirk funny and endearing at the start of our relationship, but I couldn’t stand it when it affected our life.

“Can you call someone? My phone is dead,” I said.

“Who? The police will definitely ask to see our passports, and last time I called the hotel, they said they don’t speak English.”

“You’re right,” I said. English was commonly understood in Japan, but we were staying in a traditional ryokan where, for the first time, we were forced to use a translator.

I couldn’t think of any other way out.

“If you’re not going to go for help, then we need to figure out how we’re going to spend the night here,” I said.

“First, I think we should get out of the rain,” Ryan said.

The rain had further increased in severity. We were initially shielded by the trees, but heavy droplets were making their way through the leafy umbrella.

“How about the bathroom?”

“Maybe we could look somewhere else,” Ryan said.

“You can go ahead and let me know if you find anything, but I’m going in the bathroom.”

Ryan ran his hands through his hair and wiped the rain from his face. His eyes jumped from place to place.

“I’ll go with. Just…tell me if you see anything,” Ryan said.

We ascended the hill, slower this time, and reached the white and blue structure. I appreciated the cleanliness of Japanese bathrooms after testing my stomach with traditional cuisine, but I was even more grateful now. Back home, I would never imagine spending any length of time in a public restroom. We both entered the women’s half. Ryan sprayed anti-bacterial mist, conveniently located in each stall, and guided me onto the toilet. There was no place for him to sit. I almost suggested he look for a trashcan, but we had found out, after trying and failing to throw away coffee cups, that Japanese restrooms rarely had a need for them due to the ubiquitous air dryers. He sat down on the floor, knees drawn up with his arms around them. He set his phone down so that the flashlight was facing up.

We sat in silence. I was mad, but at this point, it was more of an act. I wanted to punish Ryan for the stressful situation we were in, but I had to admit we wouldn’t be trapped on the temple grounds if I had listened to him.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said.

I exhaled and said, “Me too. It’ll be fine. I’m just happy this bathroom doesn’t stink.”

“The men’s side wasn’t too bad, was it? I still can’t believe how clean everything here is.”

“I know. Hey. Why were you so hesitant to come in here earlier?” I asked.

“Just more myth stuff. Nothing you want to hear right now,” Ryan said.

“Tell me. I could use a distraction.”

Ryan took a deep breath and swallowed.

“There are two Japanese myths I know involving spirits in the bathroom,” Ryan said. “One is about a kid in a red coat. He offers you two different colors of toilet paper: red or blue.”

“I’ve never seen red or blue TP,” I said, smiling. I wasn’t sure if Ryan saw my expression, but he remained serious.

“If you choose the red, he’ll stab you and leave you dead in a pool of your own blood. If you choose blue, he strangles you, or in some stories, he’ll suck out your blood and leave your face blue.”

“Wow. Quite the story,” I said nonchalantly. “I’m glad I didn’t find that woman’s husband like that.”

“Me too. But there is another myth,” Ryan said.

“I’m waiting.”

Ryan cleared his throat and shook his head. He only did this before saying something uncomfortable.

“There’s a spirit called Hanako-san. She drags her victims into the toilet completely and leaves no trace. But she only haunts women’s restrooms…” Ryan’s voice trailed off.

“Like the one we’re in now?” I said. The words hung in the air like the smell of dirty dishes left over a weekend. I kept thinking Ryan was going to say something to cut through the tense fog of awkwardness.

The toilet flushed beneath me.

I stood up, forgetting about my ankle, and my knees slammed the tile floor. I could feel the blood rushing to the points of contact and knew I would wake up with two large bruises. Ryan grabbed my arm and slid me across the floor and away from the toilet.

The other toilet flushed.

“Hurry!” I yelled.

Ryan helped me onto my feet and almost carried me out of the bathroom. Before the door closed, I felt something tug my shoe. I looked down, expecting to see my pants snagged on the flooring. Instead, blackness engulfed my right foot. It was an inky mist that entirely swallowed what was trapped inside. I shook my head and tried to blink away the shroud of smoke, hoping it was just a trick of the light. I could’ve sworn I saw a pair of eyes where my leg should have been. We crossed the threshold of the bathroom, my leg visible once again, and stood in heavy rain.

“Where do we go?” Ryan asked, his voice fighting for airspace against the weather.

“There!” I said, pointing at the golden temple.

We descended the hill, often being forced to sit and lower ourselves onto the next step. Rainwater was flowing down the hill, and we couldn’t risk another accident. We arrived at the temple and, luckily, the entryway inside was only sectioned off by a rope between two plastic four-foot poles. We sat down on the wooden perimeter walkway and were shielded by the temple’s overhanging roof. My breath slowed. I wished I could be viewing this rain from a booth in a bar or restaurant somewhere in Kyoto. The darkness made it easy to reflect now that there was nothing to see.

“It was probably just an automatic flush,” I said to Ryan, laughing.

Ryan looked at me with wide eyes and I knew he was a moment from either laughing or crying. I could see him laugh, but it was drowned out by the rain.

“How’s the ankle?” Ryan asked.

“They’ll probably need to amputate, but you’ll still love me, right?”

“As long as you learn to dance with one foot,” Ryan said, his teeth making a rare appearance. I smiled back.

It felt amazing when I was able to make him laugh. I put my arms around him and was thankful the water was dripping off our clothes. If we had to stay right here for the rest of the night, I would be content.

We sat for what felt like a long time, our eyes adjusting to the lack of light. My ankle had swollen to the size of an orange. The soft skin stretched around fluid and pressed against my shoe. I knew it was going to leave a nasty bruise. The rain lightened to a mist.

I tried to distract myself, but eventually, my mind returned to what I saw in the bathroom. Was there anything there at all? Ryan’s ghost stories couldn’t be true. I couldn’t believe I was giving this any thought. I was the only little girl who was brave enough to say “bloody Mary” a third time during a sleepover.

This was different, though. I felt something grab me. I felt the darkness surround my leg, causing it to go numb. And what did those eyes belong to? I wished I could ask Ryan more about the spirit, but I didn’t want to scare him. The questions festered in my brain like an untreated open wound.

Ryan shook away from my grasp.

He was staring at something.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Look over there. Is that a person?”

There was someone, not far, walking right to left behind bushes and trees so that only the head was visible. The only detail I could recognize was long dark hair flowing behind their pale skin.

“I see her. Is that the tour guide?” I asked.

“Maybe. Something’s off,” Ryan said, keeping his voice hushed. “Look how smoothly her head’s moving. It’s not bobbing up and down.” 

He was right. The person’s head was gliding unnaturally at a typical walking speed.

“Should we say something?” I whispered.

“Just wait,” Ryan said.

The figure was moving toward the path to the temple where we could get a full view of whatever it was. I held my breath.

The head emerged with no body below it.

My stomach clenched and I brought my hand to my mouth to stifle any noise I might make.

The head stopped.

Don’t come toward us. Please, please go the other way. Please.

I felt my hand shaking on my lips and cheeks.

Slowly, it rotated away from us and moved down the path. My lungs burned and I realized I had been holding my breath.

“Very carefully, we need to move inside the temple. We can’t be out here if it comes back this way,” Ryan said into my ear.

He rose to his feet, and I followed, but time off my ankle had made it weaker, and I thumped the wooden walkway hard. I looked to where the head had been drifting.

Two red eyes stared at us in silence.

They were too big for the head that carried them. The floating head’s mouth opened just a little too wide. It launched toward us, faster now than we had seen it moving before.

“Go!” Ryan yelled, causing me to break from my shocked paralysis.

We stumbled into the temple and hid behind a movable paper wall that separated the floor into sections.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“Let’s just wait. Maybe it can’t come into the temple,” Ryan said. I nodded my head, surprised to hear him take the lead.

We held hands, and I wanted to believe we were safe. The walls were thin, but they held a spiritual presence that I hoped would keep anything evil out. The black mountains and hills painted on the walls made me wish I was safely hidden inside the pictures. Our wet shoes stained the tatami mats that lined the floor.

I heard a noise. It was a moist splatting sound just outside the temple entrance. Ryan looked at my ankle and then to me. The expression on his face was something I did not expect. It told me he was not expecting me to make a decision. He stood up.

“Wait. What’re you doing?” I asked.

“Trying your strategy,” Ryan said, no longer keeping his voice quiet.

He stepped from behind the partition and faced what I couldn’t see. I crawled on my hands and knees to glimpse what was about to happen. The head was on the tatami mats. Although it had no pupils, it was staring at Ryan. He stared back.

The head rolled toward Ryan like a bowling ball. He yelled and ran to meet it. Ryan kicked the head with full force. I closed my eyes just before impact. I heard a squelch and then Ryan’s heavy breathing. There was no trace of the head anywhere, including Ryan’s shoe. I opened my eyes and Ryan turned to me.

“Now we move the body,” Ryan said.

I nodded my head, and he helped me to my feet. I couldn’t believe what Ryan had done. He had just kicked a Japanese spirit to…death? I wasn’t sure exactly.

We walked along the long and narrow room until we reached the end and found more temporary walls sectioning off a small square in the corner. We slid one of the screens to the side and found a sleeping mat on the floor. A blanket was covering what looked like a human body, a depression on the pillow where the head should be.

Ryan removed the cover and revealed a female body. A brown and yellow scarf hid where the head would normally meet the neck. We exchanged a look. He grabbed the body’s arms and dragged it along the floor.

“How far do we need to move it?” I asked.

“I’m moving it to the bathroom. Maybe one spirit can destroy another. If not, that’s probably far enough.”

“Ryan, there was nothing in the bathroom. It was just the sensor—”

“I saw it too, Grace.”

I paused, unsure if I should keep playing it off. There was no point.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to bring it up. The spirits hold more power over you the more you talk about them. The more you think, the scarier they are.”

I didn’t respond.

Ryan lugged the body up the hill, and I was able to keep up, shambling behind. Mud covered the petite spirit’s corpse, making it look spoiled.

“Can we talk about what happened back there?” I asked.

“I took care of it. It was time I stopped relying on everyone else.”

“What changed?”

“I didn’t have anyone I could ask to do it for me,” Ryan said, laughing to himself.

I held the door open for Ryan once we reached the bathroom. He hoisted the body on top of the same toilet I rested on earlier. The headless body slumped against the stall’s wall. We hastily exited the bathroom. Once we were outside again, we hugged. It was an embrace that reminded me of when we were first dating and before they became routine.

Ryan relieved some of the stress on my swollen ankle and we made our trip back to the golden temple. We sat on the walkway, holding hands, and waited for the sunrise.

THE END