We did it again, you guys! Another year of 100 ghost stories toward Halloween! This makes a total of five years! Overall, that makes 637 ghost stories, articles, and personal thoughts.
Mahalo to all of you for allowing us to become a part of your community through this blog called 'GhostsNextDoor.' This past June 19, I shared 100 stories to honor the passing of my late mentor Glen Grant. That was six hours straight, uninterrupted; it was quite the experience! I also want to thank my dear friend Edwin Ushiro for his brilliant artwork, which inspired a few stories in this year's collection. People have asked if the stories I share on this blog are real or if they're just made up? Many of the stories are based on actual events and real people who were caught up in bizarre circumstances. The names and locations were changed to protect the identity of the people involved, but the story itself is real. What makes the words even more chilling and relatable is that we know the street names; we know the district or the island where the story takes place. It's right on the tip of our tongue, but at that last moment, we second guess ourselves and think, "Nah, how can?"Can brah definitely can; remove all doubt and jump in, immerse yourself, and you'll see that everything is as right and as real as the nail at the end of your finger. This year many of you have emailed and messaged me your personal stories, and I humbly thank you for trusting me with such unique and intimate information. Your stories are fantastic and heartbreaking; I await a time when you will permit me to share your stories because I know the world will be astounded by what they hear. Thank you also for your comments and opinions regarding the 100 stories I've posted, they are much appreciated, and many are quite humorous. I appreciate your attention to detail and how these tales are relateable to your own experiences. A few of my stories are also born of a question I frequently ask myself. "What's the worst thing that could happen?" I contemplate that question quite often, and then whatever the answer is, I write a story about it. This year I wrote a couple of stories involving the loss two different families suffer after their pet dogs are killed and quite brutally at that. Stephen King said that when he wrote a book called 'Cujo,' in 1981, a story about a giant Saint Bernard who becomes afflicted with rabies and ends up trapping a mother and son in their Ford Pinto, nobody seemed to be too bothered when the little boy dies of dehydration toward the end. But in 1979, in his seventh book called, 'The Dead Zone,' there's a scene where the character Greg Stillson kicks a dog to death. "Man," he said. "People were outraged, even though it was a fictional story. People seem to have a closer tie and affinity to their dogs than they do with other human beings."
As I said previously, I wrote two stories this year wherein the pet dogs die quite violently. In one response, I was called a fucking coward for not doing whatever it took the save the dog's life; in the second, the same person told me that I was not a real man for killing pets the way I did. I get the sentiment and the misunderstanding because I write in the first person, but it's not always me in the story; it's from the fictional character's perspective. I do have two pet dogs that we all love; one is named Paris, she's a lab. She's very vocal about her wants and needs. The other is a mix that we got from the human society when she was a puppy. Her name is Konāne. When she first came to us, we had an orange tabby cat named Cotton. He was a boy and just coming out of his kitten stage. Konāne sat on him all the time, and they roughed each other up every chance they had, but the two were also fast friends in that they slept next to one another all the time. One day, Cotton was gone. We think someone inadvertently left the front door open just a crack and he got out. Or, maybe he just got tired of being sat on.
Looks like I did my job, Mr. King.
My biggest heartfelt thanks go to my wife, Tanya, for braving the waters of this life weʻve made together. Sheʻs quite the navigator and my constant anchor in the storm. By storm, I donʻt mean trials and tribulations because weʻve got that handled. What I mean is that her patience is what helps my frantic thoughts and ideas become cohesive. It also re-directs many things that I forget that I had to do, say, or write. I give her shoulder, neck, and feet massages because she deserves it. Sheʻs the rope that pulls me out of the Upside Down when I get too deep living in my head. Weʻre a good team, so much so that I think I will have a pair of tag team championship belts made just for us. I love you, hun.
Well, itʻs about that time, so let me leave you with one last story before we ride off into the sunset where the darkness follows. Hopefully, weʻll see you there! Good night, and good luck.
~
I lived in Waimalu on Ponohana loop back in nineteen seventy-three. I became quick friends with the kids who lived near me, but not so much with the kids at school. The parents of my neighborhood friends had been living there for a while. They would always caution us before we went biking off to never play in the stream at the top. Back then, the stream went back to its source, which meant you could go further up. Today, itʻs impossible because of all the condominiums they put up at the end of Pono and Kilinoe. Kilinoe just so happens to be the name of a moʻo wahine in the story of Lohiau and Hiʻiaka. That day we rode up as far as we could go before we left our bikes in the grass and hiked the rest of the way. It was fun and exciting because we followed the stream the whole time, and we could see the fish just under the surface of the water, along with some toads and tadpoles. At one point, we sat on the banks and removed our packed sandwiches and RC Colas and had our lunch. The sun wasnʻt as hot as it should have been, and the air had a nice chill to it, not too cold but just right. I remember Yukio and Andy began removing the crust from the edge of their sandwiches. They broke it up into pieces and tossed it in the water, where the fish started swimming to the surface and eating it. Yukio was surprised at how many fish there were. It seemed like a whole school had come to be fed. He kept throwing piece after piece of his crust in the water. In his excitement, he grabbed his entire sandwich and tossed it in the stream. "Oh, no!" we all screamed. Yukio was crushed and angry at his stupidity, and he began to cry. Andy ran down to the edge of the bank to retrieve the rest of Yukioʻs sandwich, but the school of fish had already pulled it further out into the middle of the stream. For me, Iʻd been watching way too many Hercules and Samson movies. I dove right into the water, crashing right through the school of fish. I had the sandwich in my hand and kept it above the water so it wouldnʻt get too wet. I swam toward the bank and suddenly felt more than one pair of hands wrap themselves around my waist. Then I felt two pairs of legs wrap themselves around my hips. Then I felt my shirt coming off, and the two pairs of hands began caressing my chest and stomach. They pulled me under but only beneath the surface of the water. I couldnʻt hear Yukio and Andy screaming for me to get out of the stream. It was two girls, sisters if I remember because they looked exactly alike. They were local Japanese; their beautiful long black hair floated freely in the water. They were smiling at me, and they were naked. They cupped their breasts with their hands and were trying to put their nipples into my mouth. Simultaneously, they rubbed their private parts on my thighs, slowly back and forth. I sank with them slowly, in unison with their deep desires, literally. I hadnʻt heard the hysterical screaming of my two best friends while they were standing at the edge of the water. I suppose they realized that if they didnʻt do something, I was going to drown. So, they braved the horror and jumped in after me. They would tell me later that right after I jumped in to save Yukioʻs sandwich, two naked girls appeared out of nowhere and began swimming toward me. They were transparent and translucent all at once. My two friends screamed at me to get out of the stream, but it was too late; the two ghostly sisters got me. "I was sooooo scared!" Yukio was still trying to catch his breath.
"We had no choice," Andy interjected. "Weʻre the three musketeers, all for one and one for all!"
"What happened to the girls?" I was shaking but was it from the cold stream or the fear of almost being drowned by two water spirits or whatever it is that they were?
"Soon as we dove in," Andy began, "they disappeared."
"They were laughing too," Yukio said. "I donʻt like that kind of laugh; it's soooooo scary!"
A few years before my family and I moved to Ponohana Loop, I learned that those twin sisters were playing one day in the area where I, Yukio, and Andy were having our lunch. They were unaware that a flood was coming down from the valley and through the Waimalu stream. They were swept away and drowned. In their grief, the twin girls' parents went down to the stream and prayed that their daughters would become water spirits that they could go to visit and make offerings to every day. The parents went all the time, never missing once. Eventually, they aged and died, and no more offerings were brought to the stream. The rumor in the community was that the twin girls' spirits began to take offerings on their own, whether it was made or not. This is why the parents in my old neighborhood warned us, kids, about not going up to the top of the stream, because there was something there, waiting to kill us or anyone else that got close enough. The question that was never asked is how did those parents know about this story? It turns out, they were friends with the twin sisters during their teen years and they were all there when they got swept away by the flood and died. "They probably waiting for us," Mr. Tanaka said. "Ho, just like when I was growing up Laupahoehoe and the tidal wave came. I watched plenty of my friends drown. I never thought would happen again when we move to Honolulu."
PAU
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