Story Time – Sand Walls, Paper Doors (Ep. 50)

Hey, hey everyone. I hope this podcast finds you and all your loved ones healthy and safe and staying as sane as possible in this upside down world.

Me, I’m doing okay.

I’m really happy to say that this is my 50th episode of Uncanny Japan.

I started the podcast on October 30th, 2016, so it’s taken about three and a half years to get here.

And I’m really happy I’m here.

And I’m happy you’re here too.

Why I Started Uncanny Japan

One of the reasons I started Uncanny Japan was because given my circumstances, I thought I had a bit of a different perspective on Japanese culture, and I wanted to share that.

But that wasn’t the only reason.

Doing this was also a way of me getting through a very difficult time in my life.

As fate would have it, things got even more difficult before they got better.

And they were just starting to get a lot better when, boom, now, here we have this heinous virus that is ravaging the world.

The podcast has always been something I look forward to, a means of escape, kind of.

And I really hope the shows can also help you put down the outside world for a few minutes as well.

Thank You to My Supporters

Since it’s my 50th episode, I want to give a couple thank yous.

First, I want to thank the guy who without his help, this show would never have been or never be, Rich Pav.

He’s the one who lent me my first binaural mics and has stood by the sidelines and cheered me on, as well as been the master of everything sound and tech related.

If you don’t believe in miracles, just listen to the first episode that I did all by myself and compare it to now.

Thank you, Rich, and I’m looking forward to our new venture, which I’m going to talk about in a few seconds.

I also want to thank my patrons.

They are all so wonderful, and they’re the other reason I’m still doing this show, because without their support, I really couldn’t afford to do this at all.

I care for and appreciate every single one of them.

Thank you. Thank you.

And finally, I want to thank you, my dear listeners, your messages, your emails, reviews, or just subscribing to the show.

If I didn’t think anyone was listening, I really wouldn’t have lasted this long.

So thank you.

Exciting News: A New Horror Audio Drama

And another thing I want to do on this 50th episode is I want to announce some fun news that I’m really excited about.

If you remember the past episode, 49, the cheesy one about finding an amabie on the beach. Well, that was such a joy to make.

And I started thinking about doing other things, kind of different stories, longer, more horror related, and involving this old house I’m living in now.

Rich Pav and I have spent entire days brainstorming and outlining and scripting a horror audio drama that we’re going to start recording pretty soon.

This is going to be so much fun.

It’ll be 11 episodes with patrons getting early access, bonus content, behind the scenes, bloopers, stuff like that.

And it’s going to be one of those grab your headphones and turn out the lights kind of show.

So please look forward to that.

Of course, Uncanny Japan will come out as usual twice a month.

So no worries there.

Anyway, I’ll keep you updated here and let you know how it’s going and when we’ll be getting it up.

Sand Walls, Paper Doors: A Yokai Story

Now for today’s episode.

I haven’t done a story in a while, and I think I’ve only ever done one of my own stories here.

It was way back in the beginning, I think episode like seven.

I did a very short piece that I wrote about the Sennin body, the 1000 stitched belt.

But today I want to read a short story that’s really dear to my heart.

It’s the first story I wrote after I decided I wanted to seriously do this writing thing.

I had this idea to do a collection of stories and I kind of wanted this story to be the keystone.

It was probably written back in 1993 or 94 or something.

It’s also quite autobiographical.

I’ll go into more details there about what’s made up and what’s not over on Patreon.

Anyway, another reason I really like this story is it’s the one that got me my first book deal.

I actually cold queried a publisher with this story and I got a contract like a week later.

And it’s also the story that helped me woo my rocking agent.

And it’s the story my sound tech man, Rich Pav, who I just thanked earlier, read years and years and years ago when we knew each other only on Twitter.

And he reached out to message me and tell me how much he really loved it.

Also, there’s a lot of yōkai in it.

So that’s fun, too.

So anyway, it’s got a lot of good memories attached to it.

And in this chaotic time for my 50th episode, I think I want to share this with you.

It’s called Sand Walls, Paper Doors.

The Story Begins

Tally-ho!

Sang an unfamiliar voice.

Enough time to realize it was indeed unfamiliar.

And then crash!

The explosion of shattering glass.

Around midnight, Anne had finally fallen asleep to the erratic click-click shuffle of the mahjong tiles coming from the apartment next door.

One hour later, when she bolted from her futon wide awake, it was to the sound of her window being smashed in.

Anne’s small, tatami-matted room had only one window.

Sometimes, on steamy summer nights, if she accidentally fell asleep with it open, she could easily reach out and shut it without so much as sitting up.

That’s how close it was to where she slept.

Anne watched, terrified, as a messy blonde mane poked through the gaping hole.

The face looked around, eyes squinted, and then ducked back out.

She could hear the slurred conversation that followed.

“Yo, man, I don’t think this is your apartment.”

“What?”

“Dude, there’s some chick in there.”

“One, two, three, shit! I’m number five.”

There was the sound of scuffling, falling, and running away.

Anne sat, trembling, as the cool breeze that smelled not unlike beer washed over her face.

That was the night she promised herself she would move out of the international dorm.

Finding the Old House

As it turned out, it wasn’t as difficult as she thought it would be.

A kind and observant professor had already noticed the dark circles under the girl’s eyes, the way her grades no longer reflected the ambition she initially showed in class.

After hearing her story, he introduced her to his eccentric sister, who had a fifty-year-old house in her care.

The place had not been lived in for quite some time, and needed a lot of work.

But if Anne was willing to weed the garden and wipe down the wooden floors now and again, the sister would let her rent it for no more than she paid for the dorm.

There was no question about it.

It didn’t matter that the commute to and from the university would take an hour and a half, or that she’d be that far from any English speakers, any friends.

In all honesty, Anne thought to herself, “I’m not here to speak English, and I don’t really have any friends.”

The girl fell in love with the house on her first visit.

Two suitcases and one box of books later, and she was moved in.

She spent an hour wandering from room to room, overwhelmed by the silence.

Breathing deep the sweet gold fragrance of tatami mats, and something else.

The smoky hint of camphor and sandalwood.

Ghosts of incense burnt long ago.

The narrow halls, low ceilings, and intricate lintels were all marbled hinoki wood.

Anne brushed her fingertips against the walls.

Each room was a different color.

Ochre, olive, slate.

But instead of being painted or wallpapered, they were covered in a thin layer of sand.

The wall behind, hard as stone.

No pictures could possibly be hung, Anne thought.

That night, she slept better than she had in years.

Snug in her futon, she dreamt of giggling Japanese children, tugging her pajama sleeves and begging her to play.

When she woke, she noticed her pillow had made its way to her feet.

Everything was just strange enough, just exciting enough, so that she didn’t notice what was happening.

At least not right away.

Living with Yōkai

First, she had to deal with living with the lack of house furniture.

There was only one low kotatsu table where she sat cross-legged on the floor, ate her meals, and did her studies.

Otherwise, there were no couches or chairs, no bookcases or wardrobes.

Her futon had to be folded into threes and stowed away in the closet.

On sunny days, she hung it outside and beat it with a bamboo racket.

Deep baths were drawn and then topped with a wooden roll cover when not in use.

The water was kept clean because she showered before soaking in the tub.

Clothes were washed in small loads daily and hung in the sun to dry.

Anne soon realized that despite being in the country for a year and a half, she didn’t know Japan at all.

What the girl loved most, though, was what she called in her journal “the shimmering quiet.”

She wrote that sometimes, while reading or studying, it felt as if someone were silently observing her, a frequent sensation near constant.

She would not have been surprised to turn any corner, open any door, and find someone there.

A lady kneeling with a large stretch of silk spread out over her lap, sewing tiny stitches with a crooked needle.

Or a man who might be mending the bamboo skeletons of heavy paper umbrellas.

Instead of making her jumpy and nervous, the feeling made her feel less alone.

It wasn’t long before she began to talk to these imaginary friends.

She didn’t think it strange at all, even when she started to name the one that felt most familiar.

[Story continues with Anne’s encounters with various yōkai – makuragaeshi (Carl), oni children, tenjō sagari (Stretch), and itamomen (Mimi) – living harmoniously in the old house]

The House Must Go

It was the end of July when Anne got the phone call.

She was repapering the shōji doors, a job she usually had to do twice a year due to the curious fingers constantly poking holes through the washi paper.

The rainy season had started, which made it perfect weather.

She lifted each partition off its track and leaned it against the fence in the garden.

Stirring the flour and water paste her landlord had taught her how to cook.

She gazed out the window, watching the squares of paper pop under the warm raindrops.

Soon the glue would loosen and the shōji paper would all but melt away.

Already the paste she was stirring was thickening.

The phone rang.

“Moshi moshi,” Anne answered.

“The emperor is coming.”

It was her professor’s sister, her landlord.

“Here?”

“Next year. They want to extend the bypass,” the lady paused.

“Yes, here.”

“They’re going to extend the bypass? You mean the one that stops down the road from me?”

“Yep, right over the house. The city is buying up all the land. And if I told you how much I was kidding for it, boy, you’d—”

“What does that mean?” Anne asked.

“You’re going to have to move.”

[Story continues through Anne’s heartbreak, the yōkai disappearing, moving to new apartment, and her final return to the old house]

Coming Home

Suddenly, she felt a tiny hand curl around her pinky.

It squeezed slightly and let go.

Anne smiled.

“Everyone on board?” she asked.

But there was no answer.

The suitcase was easily twice as heavy on the way back to her apartment.

She didn’t mind.

From the handle that pulled it along came the occasional vibration that she recognized as the playful giddiness of a dozen oni children.

On the bus, she lay the suitcase across her knees and felt its weighty warmth.

She gently petted the top of the bag, identifying from the shiver or poke each of her friends inside.

Anne could not wait to get home.

The End.

Thank you for listening.

Stay safe.

And I’ll talk to you again in two weeks. Bye-bye.

Credits

Intro and outro music by Julyan Ray Matsuura

Sovereign by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/4397-sovereign
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Bicycle by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/3434-bicycle
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Luminous Rain by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/4007-luminous-rain
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Heartbreaking by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/3863-heartbreaking
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Thinking Music by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/4522-thinking-music
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Umbrella Pants by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/4559-umbrella-pants
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Clear Waters by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/3516-clear-waters
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Cryptic Sorrow by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/3568-cryptic-sorrow
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Immersed by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/3900-immersed
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/