Stories Written In The Dark

Have You Heard of Kisaragi Station?

TW: Mentions of animal sacrifice.

Have you heard of Kisaragi Station? 

In 2004, a woman named Hasumi made a post on 2chan about a train station that she claimed was called Kisaragi Station, translated as "Demon Station". Attempts to find her after her last post have been unsuccessful. She was never seen again. At least, not when she was human.  

Many have theories as to what Kisaragi Station is. These range from the plausible hoax theory to the station from Hell theory, and even the theory of the Boochoo. I'm afraid to say that none are correct. 

Anyway, now that we've gotten that little bit of world-building out of the way (this is not sponsored by World Anvil), let's talk about me. Or more specifically, the incident that resulted in me being trapped here for the rest of eternity. 

The train was ancient. More than that. it was ruined, torn, and worn until all that was left was a crumbling mess of machinery that still bled black. Houses surrounded the dilapidated area. Each more devastated than the last.

In other words, it was perfect. 

I still remember the shivers of excitement that filled my every step. Every movement felt decisive, as if to accentuate the true meaning of what I was doing. Like I needed a reminder. The fact that I'd spent months preparing for this wasn't enough. 

The night was cold, but I didn't bother putting on a jacket. Who would've, when faced with a decision of such cosmic proportions? Who would've bothered with such a simple and ridiculous piece of outerwear when you were busy bending reality to your will? 

My goal was the Akashic Records. A forbidden realm of vast, hidden knowledge that explained the full nature of reality. What I got...was something no human should ever have to see. Something that was never meant for mortal eyes. 

I remember how I smiled, merrily slitting away at the necks of the animals I'd collected for exactly this purpose. They made such funny sounds; the chickens' eyes kept popping out of their skulls as if they hadn't expected it. As if they had no idea this was what they were born to be.

 Maybe this was what I was born to be too? Funny how these things work out, isn't it? 

The sacrifices had been made. I waited. Minutes passed in the span of hours. The crickets stopped chirping. Birds ceased their songs. Even the stars, which always stared at me with such pure and utter loathing, had vanished. Fleeing from the ramifications of what I'd done. 

The darkness seemed darker if that makes sense. Cold, unseen fingers brushed against my nape. Voices whispered in my ear, speaking of all the twisted, horrible things they'd do to me once they got free. I didn't pay attention, watching the rivers of blood beginning to spill from the bowl. 

They slithered towards me, encircling me in their wretched embrace. Before me, the shadows gained bodies. Ice crept down my spine, and I struggled to speak. I can't even describe it. All the horrors of the world took form before me. Faces, weeping and laughing and scowling at the same time, a thousand different voices that screamed at me. 

They begged me, warned me, and laughed at me. 

I began with the incantations, speaking as clearly as my frozen throat would allow. I'd studied the language for a decade, enough to understand the basic vocabulary and construct sentences. It wasn't poetry, but it was pretty damn good if I say so myself. 

The monsters stopped at once. They melded with the darkness, as if indifferent to my commands. Anger surged up within me. I grit my teeth, putting every ounce of strength I had into the words. They tore from my soul, yanked from the darkest corners of my animal mind. I had to.