【Japanese Horror】The Hundred Horror Tales — Episode 19: The Tapping Upstairs | Haunted Kaidan Tales
Listen to the Full Episode
Listen to the horror story with narration and sound on Spotify.
Episode 19 – “The Tapping Upstairs| Haunted Kaidan Tales” (Full Text)
Prefer reading? Here’s the complete text of Episode19.
Episode 19: The Tapping Upstairs
Chiri…
The wind chime gave a faint, delicate ring.
Through the gap in the sliding paper door, a lukewarm night breeze drifted in.
The candle set beside the flame flickered softly.
“Come to think of it,”
Aunt Miwa said, gazing into the trembling light.
“Hearing Sōma’s alarm clock story reminded me of something.
Something strange that happened to us a long time ago.”
Uncle Shūji looked up.
“At your place?”
“Yes. Not long after we got married.
It was a small two-story house… and every night, without fail, we’d hear a sound.
A tapping. Ton-ton.”
Aoi tilted her head.
“Maybe it was just the wind?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Miwa replied.
“But the sound… it felt like it was calling to us.
Like something upstairs was trying to reach the ones below.”
“Calling?” Sōma frowned.
“Yes. And on the nights it happened, I’d always have the same dream.
Someone standing beyond the upstairs window—just watching.”
A breeze slipped through the room again, and the candle flame wavered.
For a brief moment, everyone unconsciously glanced toward the ceiling.
Back then, Yūna was still in kindergarten, and Haruto was about three.
The four of us lived in a slightly old two-story rental house on the edge of town.
During the day, it was bright and airy.
From the veranda, you could hear the chorus of insects.
It was a peaceful home.
But at night—
somewhere in the house would creak, as if it were quietly breathing.
I first noticed it near the end of August.
I had just put the children to bed and was folding laundry in the living room.
The house was completely still.
Then, from above the ceiling—
Ton. Ton.
At first, I thought it was my imagination.
Maybe the wind had shaken a door upstairs.
But after a short pause, it came again.
Ton. Ton.
It sounded like someone tapping on a wooden beam.
When I told my husband, he laughed.
“It’s an old house. That’s all.”
But the next night, it happened again.
And the night after that.
Always a little after ten o’clock.
When all the lights were out—
when the house had fully settled into darkness—
Two taps from above.
Ton. Ton.
I was afraid, so at first I pretended to sleep through it.
But one night, I realized something strange.
Haruto always woke up just before the tapping began.
“Mom,” he whispered,
“the Tonton person is walking upstairs.”
He said it in a small voice.
Not frightened—
almost excited, as if a friend had come to visit.
Trying to brush it off, I teased him.
“What if it’s a ghost?”
Haruto shook his head and smiled.
“No. The Tonton person is just watching us.”
For some reason,
his smile felt unnaturally still.
From the next day on, Haruto began talking about it almost every night.
After getting into bed, he would whisper softly in the dark.
“I wonder if the Tonton person will come again tonight.”
“Hey Mom… what do you think the Tonton person is doing upstairs?”
At first, I treated it like harmless bedtime chatter.
But before long, he began saying something strange.
“The Tonton person’s hands are black.
But I can’t see the face.
They’re always standing by the door.”
A chill crawled slowly down my back.
The upstairs door he meant could only be the storage room—
the one my husband used to keep old tools in.
A room we hardly ever opened.
I forced a laugh to hide my fear.
“You must have seen it in a dream.”
“No.”
Haruto looked straight at me and shook his head.
“It was watching you, Mom.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Every creak of the house in the wind sounded like Ton. Ton.
Even the ticking of the clock felt unbearable.
A few days later, I finally spoke to my husband about it.
“Maybe there’s a rat in the storage room upstairs?” he said.
He grabbed a flashlight and went up to check.
But in the closet and even in the attic space, there were no signs of anything.
“It’s nothing, Miwa. It’s just an old house.”
He laughed it off.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling.
So one afternoon, when I was alone,
I went upstairs to see for myself.
Standing in front of the storage room,
the air felt… different.
Colder than the other rooms.
When I gripped the doorknob,
the metal clung coldly to my damp fingers.
I slowly pushed the door open.
Inside, there was nothing but an old dresser
and piles of unused futons.
Dust hung in the air.
By the window, a wind chime swayed gently.
…Strange.
I didn’t remember there being a wind chime there.
I reached out and touched it.
Chirin.
A clear, delicate sound rang out.
And in that exact moment—
From downstairs,
Ton. Ton.
A reply.
From that day on, the air inside the house began to change.
Nothing happened during the day.
But at night, the house would fall unnaturally silent,
as if it were holding its breath.
And then—
Ton. Ton.
The sound would echo at steady intervals,
almost like a reply.
Whenever I heard it, my husband and Yūna were fast asleep.
For some reason, only Haruto would be awake.
He would clutch his blanket in his small hands—
and smile.
“See? It came again. The Tonton person.”
“Where is it?”
“Up there. Look… there.”
Haruto pointed to a single spot on the ceiling.
Directly above that point was the storage room upstairs.
My throat tightened.
The next day, Yūna spoke up quietly.
“Mom… last night I woke up because of the tapping.
But it wasn’t upstairs.
It was coming from the hallway.”
A cold shiver ran through me.
As if the sound had moved.
As if someone were walking up and down the stairs.
That night, my husband was away on a business trip.
After putting the children to bed,
I sat in the living room, working at my sewing machine.
Outside, beyond the veranda, the insects cried without pause.
And then—
into that stillness—
Ton. Ton.
Closer than before.
Not from upstairs.
From directly above me—
the attic.
I stopped the machine.
The sound stopped too.
Only my heartbeat echoed loudly in my ears.
I stood and quietly climbed the stairs.
The hallway felt colder than usual.
When I reached the storage room,
the door was slightly ajar.
I was certain I had closed it earlier.
I peered inside.
The wind chime swayed gently.
The window was shut,
yet a faint current of air moved through the room.
Then, from somewhere near the floor—
Ton… ton…
Softer now.
I held my breath and crouched down.
Between the tatami mats,
something like an old fragment of wood was visible.
I pried it loose.
It seemed to be part of a pillar.
And carved faintly into its surface were worn-out letters.
—Mamoru.
“Protect.”
The handwriting was old.
The ink had faded with time.
It must have been there since the house was first built.
And yet—
the moment I saw that word,
the restless fear in my chest began to settle.
After the repairs were completed, the tapping stopped completely.
The sound that had echoed night after night was suddenly gone.
And somehow, the silence felt a little lonely.
That evening, Haruto whispered from beneath his blanket.
“The Tonton person said… ‘It’s okay now.’”
I smiled and replied, “That’s good.”
As I stroked his hair, I looked up at the ceiling.
No more dust fell from above.
And yet, whenever the wind passed through,
the house would creak softly—
as if it were breathing.
Almost as if it were whispering,
“It’s all right now.”
On the day before we moved out,
my husband found a small wooden plaque in the back of the storage room.
On the soot-darkened wood, written in faded ink,
was a single character:
Protect.
The moment I held it in my hands,
a warmth spread quietly through my chest.
Perhaps someone who once lived in that house
had carved it while thinking of their family—
praying for their safety.
Maybe that wish still lingered beneath the roof.
When Aunt Miwa finished speaking,
she gazed at the candle flame
and gently blew.
—Fuu.
The flame went out.
And in the darkness beyond,
it felt as though a single, gentle ton echoed back.
Next Episode
New episode drops on Tuesday, February 17 .
📖 View All Episodes
Work in Progress
✍️ About & Follow
The Hundred Horror Tales is an original Japanese horror anthology inspired by the tradition of Hyaku Monogatari.
Five storytellers gather around flickering candles to share chilling tales—urban legends, ghost stories, folklore, daily fears, and real encounters.
Can you endure until the last flame goes out?
Follow for more:
• Twitter: @KaidanTales
• YouTube: @HK_Tales
If you felt something… or noticed something, we’d be grateful if you quietly left a comment below.
Click here to leave a comment!This story was brought to you by Haunted Kaidan Tales.
Welcome to a world of Japanese ghost stories and eerie folklore.
Feel free to explore more chilling tales at your own pace.
Some stories were meant to be forgotten—
and yet, they still whisper to those who listen…