100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2018 #20

TANOMOSHI

Yuta tired of the drudgery of plantation life. Although a hard worker, he did not possess the thrift that was needed to improve his personal circumstances.
The local Tanomoshi group knew of his penchant to gamble or drink away his hard earned money at the brothels in Iwilei; by Monday there was nothing left. They refused to let him put his money in so that he could later borrow on credit. They did not see it as a wise investment. On one of his many binge weekends at the brothels one of the pimps overhead Yuta lamenting his financial circumstances. The flesh merchant peeked his head into the small stuffy space and offered, "I heard get one Tanomoshi wea dey take somebody like you but I not 'tink you like go to dat place,"

"Why?" Yuta asked. "Wea da place stay?"

"Bochi," the Pimp's face scrunched up as if he were smelling something foul.

"BOCHI???" Yuta repeated. "You mean graveyard???"

Nodding his head, the pimp confirmed, "Das da only kine Tanomoshi I know let somebody like you borrow money."

Yuta thought for a second and then sat up, "Wea stay?"

"Mo'ili'ili," the pimp whispered. "Go night time, look fo' da man undah the mango tree."

"What time, night time?" Yuta inched closer, asking in a hushed tone.

"Wen come dahk, you go. Look undah da mango tree, he stay dea," the pimp removed himself from the small room and left.

Yuta threw back a swig of Sake' and lay down across the thighs of his company for the evening, "Kowai yo,"

.............

MIDNIGHT

Yuta was surprised and mortified to find out that the graveyard the pimp told him about was a Japanese one. His heart sank and his greedy ambition didn't burn as brightly as it did earlier. It was easy to mistake the shapes of the headstones for human shapes when your mind decides to play tricks on you. However, the lure of money to at least lay a foundation for his future won over his common sense. He'd find an affordable place in town and perhaps work one of those fancy clerk jobs that paid much better than cutting sugar cane. It would be nice to sit in an office where an electric fan cooled you while you worked numbers and figures and ledgers. One step into the lane which leads to so many different burials was all it took. The gravel crunched under his feet as he moved step by step, he wasn't sure what to expect so he took a second to let his eyes acclimate to the dark so that he'd be able to navigate his way around more clearly. A small pin of burning light caught his attention and rather than be scared, he recognized what the light was; someone lit a cigarette. Walking toward the little red beacon, he soon found himself standing under a mango tree, staring at an old Hawaiian man with white hair, and a white beard. He was dressed in dark-colored dungarees. He was tall and erect and gave off the impression of someone who had twice the strength and speed of anyone three times younger than he was. There was something about the old Hawaiian man that reminded Yuta of a shark that could calmly swim by while you floated in the water and not give you a second glance. Or with one stroke of its mighty tail, it would be on you and it would tear you to bits. Yuta wasn't quite sure as to which aspect of the old Hawaiian man he'd be dealing with.

"This is Tanomoshi place?" Yuta asked.

"Yes," the old Hawaiian man nodded.

Yuta stepped forward and removed what was left of his pay and held it out to give to the Hawaiian man. The old Hawaiian man put his hand up and waved, "No, I give you the money now. I come to collect later." He held out a stack of cash and handed it to Yuta. "One thousand dollars."

Yuta was shocked and he knew for certain that he could not pay the money back. "No one thousand too much you! I no can pay back!"

"Not money," the old Hawaiian man growled. "When I come to collect, I ask you for something and you give to me. Simple yeah?"

Yuta couldn't believe what he'd heard but it couldn't be that simple. There must be some kind of loophole or some sort of string attached. Before Yuta could figure out the underlying motive, the old Hawaiian man shooed him away. "Go," he called out. "I come to collect later."

............to be continued