The Japanese Urn (Supernatural thriller)

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Kristy Khem
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The Japanese Urn (Supernatural thriller)

Post by Kristy Khem »

An exquisite jade urn lay amongst the young man’s crumpled sweatshirts and folded jeans. He took a moment to glance at them appreciatively as it was the only souvenir he was taking home with him. He tossed in a pair of clean underpants, socks, and a few dog-eared notebooks into the already crowded suitcase. He couldn’t wait to leave the hotel, board the plane, and leave behind the rain-drenched fields and irritating Japanese speakers that he could scarcely communicate with. Moreover, he was sick of soy sauce infused ramen and white rice which did nothing to soothe the cold he seemed to have contracted in the last week. He couldn’t believe he had spent six months in rural Japan studying rice farming during the monsoon as part of his thesis. What had possessed him to use his scholarship to study there, he would never know.

After three grueling connecting flights, four hours on a bus, and 2 bottles of Tylenol, he finally arrived in his hometown. Tired, but relieved, he got into his apartment that he shared with his younger sister, set down his luggage, and slipped into his bed. Unfortunately, he never woke up. The autopsy said it was stress coupled with pneumonia.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Peter’s death has been hard on me, his little sister. It was traumatizing to find him dead in his bed after what was supposed to be an epic journey to Japan. He even got me an authentic jade souvenir that dates back to the 16th century because he knew how much I love history and ancient artifacts. What’s ironic is that it’s an urn. I don’t think he expected to die, but knowing my brother, he probably thought it was a vase. Still, it’s only right that his ashes be laid to rest in it.

When I got to the funeral home after my sorority meeting to collect the urn with my brother’s ashes, I sensed that something was not quite right. I brushed off the feeling as lingering grief, but relief washed over me as I arrived home and locked the door behind me. Tears slipped out of the corner of my eyes as I took out the beautiful white urn from my bag, noticing now how much slightly heavier it felt, and set it on the coffee table.

I sat down on the couch and took a moment to compose myself, brushing away tears from my eyes. I tried not to think about Peter’s absence. That’s when I noticed the urn had a little smudge on it. I reached out and took the urn in my arms, gently wiping away the gray mark with the end of my long-sleeved sweater. I had no idea that this would conjure up a supernatural creature and my life would forever be changed…

My screams echoed around the apartment when a dark cloud started emanating from the urn. Frightened, I flung the urn away from me, jumped up, and ran to the door. The urn fell to the coffee-colored rug and lay still. My heart raced, my breath came out in ragged gasps, and I started panicking like crazy when my clammy hands slipped off the doorknob again and again. I kicked the door, but it wouldn’t budge; it seemed to be jammed shut. I had no choice but to turn around and face whatever evil spirit had come out of the urn.

Dressed in all black and wielding a wicked-looking katana with a string of kanji letters on it, the figure in front of me resembled a ninja. A hooded cowl and mask covered most of its face and my fear-muddled mind instantly mistook it for my brother. “Peter?” I whispered, then realized that the pair of Asian eyes staring back at me had irises the color of coal instead of hazel like Peter’s. The ninja cocked his head to one side, then stepped towards me. My eyes widened in fright. It paused, then replaced the sword in its scabbard, sank to its knees in a low bow, and rattled off a string of Japanese sentences. “I…who…what…are you? Please, please don’t hurt me,” I stammered as I struggled to comprehend what it said.

The ninja seemed baffled for a moment, then spoke again, this time in crude English. “I, Ninjitsu Warrior, Zheng Fu. Fresh corpse ash feed Zheng Fu. I wake up,” he stated. A bubble of disgust rose in my throat as I realized this ghoulish Japanese demon had consumed Peter’s ashes and had somehow come to life. “You are new master. Zheng Fu kill for you now. Give me a name,” he remarked. His eyes were orbs of blackest coal looking at me intensely for an answer. The problem was, there wasn’t anyone I wanted dead. When I tried to explain this to him, his eyes narrowed. He grabbed me by the neck with one gloved hand and pushed me up against the door. My legs flailed and I grabbed the thick wrist wrapped around my neck as I struggled to breathe. “Disrespect!” he hissed. Hot, smelly breath fanned out over my face. I cringed. “Girl must have name for Zheng Fu!” he fumed loudly.

He released me and I crumpled to the floor at his boots, coughing and clutching at my neck. “Please, no!” I tried to plead with him. He stared down at me angrily. Then he removed his katana once more and pointed it at me. I knew he was going to kill me if I didn’t give him a name. The cold tip of the blade touched my chin. I shivered in fear and my mouth felt dry like sandpaper. Silence blanketed the next few crucial moments before a name slipped out of my mouth. “Jason W-Westmore,” I sputtered out the movie star’s name. It was the only one I could think of because it was plastered on the teen movie poster on the wall next to me. I weakly breathed a sigh of relief when Zheng Fu withdrew his blade and dissolved in a cloud of black smoke and spirited away under the door.

I got to my feet and rubbed my eyes, willing the last remnants of fear away. Adrenaline replaced the fear as I pondered on this peculiar and scary situation. I started pacing. My eyes darted to the poster of the actor that had starred in countless adventure films which Peter and I both loved. Did I just sentence Jason to death at the hands of a supernatural mercenary? The thought seemed ridiculous. My logical brain told me that I could be hallucinating because of the grief of losing Peter. I went to fetch the white jade urn and furiously opened it. Looking inside, I saw nothing. It was empty, clean. Not a smudge of my brother’s remains was in it. “Peter…” I whispered forlornly. That was enough evidence to convince me that I hadn’t hallucinated. Immediately, I ran to my laptop and began researching this Japanese demonic presence.

Three hours later, I had found nothing useful except for facts about ninjas and their weapons. There was nothing about a demonic ash-eating ninja who lived in an urn. Meanwhile, every sound in the quiet apartment made me jump as I contemplated the return of Zheng Fu. Intuition told me he would demand another name. I wondered if getting rid of the urn would work, but no matter how hard I tried to smash it, it remained whole and unscratched. I got zero sleep that night between researching, overthinking, and constantly checking the tabloid websites to see if Jason had actually been killed.

When the latter hadn’t occurred in five days, I began to relax a little. I focused on my studies, kept busy at sorority events, and spent a lot of time at the library researching Japanese folklore. I didn’t feel like telling Joe, my boyfriend, or even my friends about my strange encounter. I figured they would tell me to see a psychiatrist and I knew I wasn’t crazy. Saturday night, I was getting ready to go to a frat party when I received a shocking text from Joe:

Hey love, I’m running late so I’ll pick u up at 9 instead. Btw, did u hear the awful news about that actor u like? Westmore was murdered…

Horror and panic crawled through my veins. My hands shook as I switched on the television and navigated to the entertainment channel. The headlines of Jason’s death glared at me. I knew I had to get out of the apartment before the demon returned. I texted Joe, telling him I’d meet him at the party instead, then hightailed it out into the street and took a cab. I ended up spending the night at Joe’s because I was too afraid of facing Zheng Fu. Plus, I hadn’t found a way to vanquish him yet.

When I finally returned home and switched on the lights, I saw nothing. The place was eerily quiet. I cautiously checked the rooms and kept a wary eye on the urn. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I relaxed. But Zheng Fu and I weren’t over yet. The next night, as soon as I pulled the shower curtain aside and stepped onto the bathroom mat, dripping wet from my shower, the demon materialized. I screamed in fear, grabbed my towel, and tried to cover myself. Zheng Fu didn’t seem to care about my nudity. He knelt, bowed, and assured me the assassination was completed. Then he stood, towered over me, and demanded another name. I was ready this time. I pretended to think for a moment, then spoke my deceased brother’s name. I really hoped this would work. It didn’t.

Zheng Fu spirited away, then returned in thirty seconds to confront me. “Peter Sable. Dead already! Girl play games with Zheng Fu?” he roared rhetorically in his bad English. “Disrespect!” he thundered and I received a backhanded slap across my face. I stumbled but didn’t fall. My cheek burned. Anger simmered inside of me, melting the fear that was previously there.

“Fine. Then kill Zheng Fu for me,” I hissed, rubbing my cheek and clutching my towel tighter around me. The coal-colored eyes above the ninja’s cloth mask narrowed into slits. He reached for his katana to punish me for that insulting remark. Before I could react, he had swiped the tip of the blade across my cheek. I felt no pain, but moments later, blood started running down my face, then an intense pain followed. I was horrified! “A name! Now!” he demanded threateningly.

Tears blossomed at the corners of my eyes. A mixture of pain, anger, and hate provoked me to give in to my darker side. “Stefany Scott,” I replied. A bitter taste filled my mouth. She was the drunk driver who had crashed her car onto the sidewalk six years ago, instantly injuring both of my parents while they were out for an innocent walk in our old neighborhood. Their injuries had been so bad, they suffered for months before dying.

Satisfied, Zheng Fu left. Still nude and bleeding, I hurried to call Joe. When he came to take me to the emergency room to get stitches, I told him the entire story on the way. I’m not sure if he fully believed me, but he suggested that I should visit a priest or a demonologist. I was surprised that I hadn’t thought of this before. I wasn’t sure if demonology was even a legitimate thing! Since I wasn’t religious, I opted for the latter.

I couldn’t find a demonologist, but I found an occultist named Sister Monica through a quick Google search. She was more than interested in my particular case. She only lived two blocks away and drove over that same night after I assured Joe that he didn’t need to stay over to ‘protect’ me. Honestly, I didn’t want him to get hurt if Zheng Fu returned. There was no telling how soon he would complete the Stefany Scott task.

After inspecting the urn, lighting candles around my apartment, burning sage, and communicating with her ‘ancestor’s spirits’, I realized that Sister Monica was some sort of witch. “You know, having a warrior demon around is a good thing my dear…but he needs to learn some manners!” she said as she observed the cut on my face with concern. “I can protect you from this demon, but I am not familiar with Japanese magic,” she finally said after a moment. Sitting on the couch, she closed her eyes and tapped into the paranormal realm. “Child, my ancestor’s spirits and I feel as if…this Zheng Fu demon is part of your destiny. He is here to stay.” I felt both surprised and defeated since I would be stuck with Zheng Fu for a long time, but I allowed her to draw a protective symbol on my arm with a mixture of hot sage-ash and oil.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Zheng Fu appeared before me the next morning, bearing confirmation of Stefany Scott’s death. I felt sick at the two people I had indirectly killed. I refused to give him another name. Thankfully true to her word, Sister Monica’s protective mark saved me from any of Zheng Fu’s assaults. His katana slashed through my face like a ghostly blade, but not one cut appeared on my skin. I smirked as he gave up barking orders and retreated to his urn for the next few days. This gave me enough time to have the protective mark permanently tattooed onto my skin.

As time passed, I soon realized that having Zheng Fu at my side was a blessing, not a curse. I realized this after Joe broke up with me a month later. I found out he had been cheating. I was crushed, especially after everything I had been through. His betrayal pushed me over the edge. Joe’s name was the first one I willingly gave to Zheng Fu. I felt no remorse when his roommate sadly informed me that his car had exploded upon impact with a truck on the freeway.

Now, it's four years later, and I’m on a private jet to Tokyo to personally receive a shipment of ancient Japanese artifacts, including urns. I’m the head of NinjA, the biggest anonymous assassination company in the world. It's run solely through the internet. My clients are politicians, senators, gang leaders, terrorists, and even members of the mafia. They supply me with the names and I give them to Zheng Fu. Each death pays me handsomely in dollars, gold, and bitcoins. Before Zheng Fu came into my life, I could only dream of a wealthy lifestyle. Business has been increasing steadily, but I want to expand my operations. It’s time to recruit more of Zheng Fu’s shadow friends.

The End.

Thank you for taking the time to read my short story! I'll appreciate any comments about it!
Michelle Menezes
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Post by Michelle Menezes »

Wow! Loved your story. I kept thinking that she would find a way to get rid of the demon, but loved that twist. I had come across a book once where a girl buys a lamp from her trip to the Middle East and ends up with a genie, but that was a romance story. I like your version better.
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Kristy Khem
Previous Member of the Month
Posts: 738
Joined: 20 Feb 2018, 13:22
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Post by Kristy Khem »

Michelle Menezes wrote: 09 Jun 2021, 07:07 Wow! Loved your story. I kept thinking that she would find a way to get rid of the demon, but loved that twist. I had come across a book once where a girl buys a lamp from her trip to the Middle East and ends up with a genie, but that was a romance story. I like your version better.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! It means a lot to me. I always try to make the ending unpredictable and I'm happy you didn't expect the ending. The girl-and-genie plot sounds cool; I love paranormal romance stories!
Michelle Menezes
Previous Member of the Month
Posts: 869
Joined: 24 Apr 2021, 13:17
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Bookshelf Size: 75
Reviewer Page: onlinebookclub.org/reviews/by-michelle-menezes.html
Latest Review: The Legacy of Job's Wife by Cynthia Koelker

Post by Michelle Menezes »

KristyKhem wrote: 09 Jun 2021, 20:36
Michelle Menezes wrote: 09 Jun 2021, 07:07 Wow! Loved your story. I kept thinking that she would find a way to get rid of the demon, but loved that twist. I had come across a book once where a girl buys a lamp from her trip to the Middle East and ends up with a genie, but that was a romance story. I like your version better.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! It means a lot to me. I always try to make the ending unpredictable and I'm happy you didn't expect the ending. The girl-and-genie plot sounds cool; I love paranormal romance stories!
You're welcome 😊
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