Hello! This mini scary story (it's not too scary, nothing in the way of blood/guts) is about Kuchisake-Onna. Kuchisake-Onna means "split mouth woman" and is a ghost that has a cut mouth that preys on kids. Don't worry, she ain't real. In this mini story, she is preying on a little girl who has something that is keeping her away somehow. When asked, "Am I pretty?" by Kuchisake-Onna can be answered by yes or no. When told yes, she will take off her mask and ask again. When told no, she will kill the child/person. If her mask is off and told yes again, in some legends she rather lets them go or kills them. This story will be the "lets them go" version, for the kids' sake. Enjoy! I'm not that good at scary stuff.
She lived on a quaint little road in a quaint little town, where nothing much happened. Of course, that's what the town lead you to believe, despite the cold hard truth that the streets were haunted by an unknown dark force. Demons, you may say, that were awaken at night and took to their favorite pastime: killing everyone they could. Some of them made it a game, they asked questions and waited for the answer, and if it was wrong, you were done for, and others had no desire to do so, they never asked, they always did what they wanted to.
So, the little girl who lived on this particular street wasn't very special. Her name was Ashlyn, which was the most unusual thing about her. She had waist length black hair, and grey eyes, and was about nine years old. She wore Mary Janes every day and always held a little fox doll on her person, usually tucked away in the large front pocket of her white, child-size apron that rested on her big black skirt, and her hands were almost always clutched together on her chest, which was flat as a little girl's is and was covered by a long-sleeved grey blouse that was crisp and clean and formal. Nobody cared much for the little girl, and she didn't care much for anybody.
Now, she isn't technically the villain in this story. She's the main character and the one you are supposed to root for, but at first glance she's not that exciting. That's what everybody else in the town thought, especially the ones who lived near here on Main Street the most haunted street in the town, until their houses went up in flames or something terrible happened to them. It seemed the little girl could control the demons, but that wasn't the case. In fact, the demons could care less about the little, plain girl who lived on 77 Main Street, in the big old fashioned white house with black curtains and broken windows, and didn't pay much attention to her.
One day, it was quite a rainy day. This day had been preceded by several other rainy days, so it wasn't new to the residents of the town. The little girl was in the upper floor of the house, in her bedroom, which overlooked the town through the window. She was sitting on her old bland rug, legs up under her and his crisp skirt and apron over her small thighs as she held her little fox doll to her. This little fox doll was the most colorful thing she owned. It was bright red with large ears, had big yellow eyes, and had its arms open in an empty hug. Its paws were furry and white, and the little girl loved the doll. She would play with him for hours, making mini adventures in her head, ones she would like to play with her friends if she had any, because everyone thought she was scary or odd, and never tried to play, talk, or socialize with her.
So, this rainy day, she was playing with her little fox. Her parents were out for the day, as they usually were, so the house was oddly quiet. The little girl had no idea something down in kitchen, which connected to the stairs that lead directly to her open door, as watching her. A tall woman, with hair longer than hers, but black, and a mask covering her mouth. Something was hidden behind her back, but the little girl never noticed. She went on playing, her face making no expressions, walking her little fox doll over her lap, moving its tail with her fragile little fingers.
A thump downstairs piqued her attention, so the little girl slowly and delicately placed her doll down and crawled on the floor to the open door, which would've proved hard with a big skirt and apron, if she hadn't several times before. She pulled herself along, her hair falling down her back and then off to the side, rustling as she moved, until she reached the door. Looking down, she saw a faint black figure, the woman from before. You would expect the little girl to do something, scream perhaps, but rather she didn't understand or she just wasn't fazed. After a moment of staring down, she turned and shuffled back, sitting back down, this time cross-legged, and picking her doll back up.
Perhaps you have heard of the urban legend of Kuchisake-Onna, the Japanese woman killed and mauled by her husband, who returned from the dead for revenge. She was the tall, willowy woman in the kitchen, but she wasn't making a move nor asking her question. Perhaps she was scared, or maybe she couldn't care less. Or maybe, maybe she was waiting. But Ashlyn was not. She went on playing for about another hour, then decided she was hungry. She gathered up her skirts and walked down the stairs like the woman didn't exist, holding the fox doll close. Only when the girl lifted her leg and the fox's seven tails shook did the woman make a slight move, the blinking of an eye, the twitching of a muscle.
The little girl stood on tip toes to get her lunch. She finished quickly and walked back upstairs. She set down her doll for a second, and the woman made steps towards her. In a raspy voice she asked the little girl if she was pretty. The little girl looked at her with a type of querying look, and told her that she was pretty, and asked her why she would ask that. The woman slipped off her mask, which revealed a mouth with cut cheeks. To a child, it was unnerving, but the girl seemed to pay it no mind. She picked her doll back up and told the woman she was, in fact, pretty, despite the mouth. The girl retreated back upstairs. It was dark in all of the house except the bedroom, where weak natural light could flow.
When her parents came home later, the woman was gone.
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Hope you enjoyed. Not that scary, LOLZ. More descriptive than scary. If you liked this, please check out this other stories that have a similar writing style like this one, each starring a separate character.
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