【Japanese Horror】The Hundred Horror Tales — Episode 20: The Path You Can’t Come Back From | Haunted Kaidan Tales
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Episode 20 – “The Path You Can’t Come Back From| Haunted Kaidan Tales” (Full Text)
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Episode 20: The Path You Can’t Come Back From
After Aunt Miwa blew out the candle, a brief silence settled over the room.
The air still seemed to carry the echo of the “ton-ton” from her story, and no one spoke right away.
It was Shūji’s low chuckle that finally broke the quiet.
“…That was a good one. But if there are houses that get protected, then there must be places that don’t, right?”
“What kind of thing is that to say?” Aunt Miwa frowned.
“Couldn’t you at least say something a little more romantic?”
“Haha, my bad, my bad… But you know, that reminded me of something.”
Shūji leaned back slightly, watching the flame flicker as he continued.
“When I was in high school, there was a time when we used to go out for courage tests almost every night.
And the worst one—yeah, the one that really stuck with me—was something called the path behind the shrine.”
At that, Aoi lifted her head immediately.
“A path? What kind of path? Like a secret tunnel or something?”
“Something like that. Around the village, people used to say it was a road you couldn’t come back from if you went in.
But to dumb punks like us, rumors like that just made it more exciting.”
Back then, I had three close buddies I was always hanging around with—Kenji, Taka, and Shinji.
We loved the sound of our bike engines cutting through the night air, and after school we’d always ride up the slope leading to that shrine.
In the daytime, it was just an old shrine—nothing special.
But at night, it changed.
Halfway up the stone steps, the frogs would suddenly stop croaking, and the shadows of the trees seemed unnaturally thick.
Past the torii gate, there was a single narrow trail leading into the woods behind the shrine—that was the so-called “path.”
According to the local legend, if you walked the path all the way to the end, one wish—any wish—would come true.
But if you turned back halfway, something would “take you.”
We laughed the moment we heard it.
“Yeah right. Just a scare tactic,” I remember saying.
“So anyway, the four of us met up at eleven that night.
Flashlights in hand, full of stupid confidence.
Just like always, we were cracking jokes and messing around, having the time of our lives.”
We reached the shrine grounds a little past eleven-thirty that night.
There were no streetlights, of course.
Only the moon and our flashlights lit the way.
The red of the torii gate bled into the darkness, looking almost black—almost like dried blood.
“Hey… we’re really going in?”
Taka shrugged as he said it.
“What, you scared?” Kenji laughed, giving the can of coffee in his hand a light shake.
The faint metallic rattle echoed in the night air.
“If we’re doing this, at least toss in five yen first,” Shinji said.
“Wouldn’t want to tick off the gods.”
Shinji was the serious one. A little cautious, too.
We each threw a coin into the offering box and pressed our hands together.
Clink.
The sound rang out sharper than it should have.
For a moment, it felt like the silence of the night had cracked.
“Alright, let’s decide the order.”
Kenji suggested rock-paper-scissors with a grin.
I ended up last. Shinji drew first.
“They say if you turn back halfway, something takes you,” Kenji teased.
“Shut up, man. Don’t jinx it,” Taka snapped.
Still trading dumb jokes, Shinji switched on his flashlight and stepped into the narrow path behind the shrine.
Crunch. Crunch.
The sound of dry leaves under his shoes was quickly swallowed by the darkness.
Tall cedar trees lined both sides of the trail, their branches whispering whenever the wind passed through.
The rest of us stayed near the torii, watching the small dot of his flashlight bob farther and farther away.
“Hey, Shinji! You still alive back there?” Kenji called out, laughing.
No answer.
We waited.
Nothing came back from the dark.
“…Shinji?” I tried.
After a short delay, a voice drifted back.
“I’m… fine. Almost… through…”
It sounded muffled.
At first I thought it was just the distance.
But there was something else in it—like the voice was coming from underwater.
The three of us exchanged glances.
“…He messing with us?” Kenji muttered.
A few more minutes passed.
Shinji didn’t return.
Instead, we heard the wind slide through the trees.
And then—
Tok.
A small, distinct sound.
Like someone stepping on a stone or root.
“…You hear that?” I asked.
“Yeah. Like he kicked a rock or something,” Kenji replied.
Taka scanned the darkness nervously.
“Shine the light farther. I can’t see where he’s walking.”
Kenji raised his flashlight higher, aiming down the trail.
But nothing appeared.
The beam seemed to blur halfway down, as if swallowed by mist.
Beyond that, it was pitch black.
None of us spoke.
Time stretched.
In the stillness of the night, I thought I heard someone laughing in the distance.
Whether it was the wind…
or Shinji…
none of us could tell.
“…This isn’t right.”
Taka was the first to say it.
The bravado in his voice from earlier had thinned, just a little.
“Even as a joke, this is too long. He said it was a straight path, didn’t he?”
Kenji adjusted his grip on the flashlight and glared into the darkness beyond the torii.
The beam formed a pale circle—then vanished halfway down the trail, swallowed by shadow.
I glanced back once toward the main shrine building.
The small bell hanging there swayed in the night breeze, letting out a clear, delicate chime.
For some reason, the shrine grounds suddenly felt much farther away than before.
“Let’s go after him. If the three of us go in together, the joke’s over.”
I said it—and stepped into the path.
The air changed instantly.
A damp chill clung to my skin.
Even the flashlight seemed weaker than before.
“Shinji!” Kenji shouted.
No reply.
Instead, somewhere deeper in the woods, something shifted.
A faint shff—as if something brushed past leaves.
The path was supposed to be straight.
But as we walked, the ground beneath our feet began to change.
What had been packed dirt became scattered gravel.
And before we realized it, we were stepping onto something like moss-covered stone steps.
“…Were there stairs here?” Taka whispered.
“I don’t know. First time for me,” I answered—though a cold sweat was already sliding down my back.
Then—
Tok.
The sound came from behind us.
Clear. Distinct.
Like someone stepping on stone.
All three of us spun around at once.
Our flashlight beams overlapped, illuminating the entrance to the path.
No one.
“…Don’t mess with me,” Kenji muttered, swallowing hard.
“That was footsteps. It had to be.”
I was about to answer when—
A voice came from ahead.
“…This way.”
Shinji.
No doubt about it.
But the voice was lower than usual.
Flat.
Stripped of emotion.
“Shinji! Where are you?!” I shouted.
The voice answered once more.
“…Almost through.”
And then, all our flashlights flickered at once.
The beams trembled.
The darkness seemed to swell.
At the edge of my vision, I thought I saw something long and thin slip across the path.
“…This isn’t funny anymore,” Taka whispered, his voice shaking.
I felt it too.
This wasn’t just a spot for a stupid courage test.
The path itself—
it felt like it was pulling us deeper.
“Let’s turn back.”
I said it, already starting to pivot.
And that’s when I looked down at my feet—
and my breath caught in my throat.
The path we had come from—
was gone.
“…We can’t go back.”
The moment I said it out loud, it felt real.
The path that had definitely been there just seconds ago was gone.
The fallen leaves, our footprints—everything had vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place.
“You’ve gotta be kidding…”
Kenji swung his flashlight wildly.
The beam revealed nothing but a slope tangled with moss and tree roots.
There was no trace of a way back.
No option to return.
Then—
From behind us, footsteps.
Tok.
One step away.
I didn’t have to turn around to know.
Something was getting closer.
“…We have to go forward!”
Before I could finish shouting, Taka bolted.
There was no time to think.
If we stopped, we were done.
So we ran.
We plunged deeper into the dark.
Branches struck my face.
Loose stones rolled under my feet.
My breath came ragged; my vision blurred.
Behind us, the footsteps multiplied.
Not just one.
Layered. Overlapping.
Closing in like something driving us forward.
At some point, I thought I heard someone call my name.
It might have been Shinji.
It might have been my own voice.
Suddenly, the darkness ahead broke open.
The path widened.
Stone steps appeared.
And the next instant—
we burst out into the shrine grounds.
The torii gate.
Moonlight.
The familiar shape of the shrine.
We collapsed where we stood.
The only sound was the pounding of our own hearts.
…We made it.
That’s what I thought.
And then—
“Hey… where’s Shinji?”
We called Shinji’s name again and again.
Our voices were swallowed by the shrine grounds.
No answer came back.
We shone our flashlights past the torii gate, but there was nothing beyond it except darkness.
That night, we called the adults and searched until dawn.
Behind the shrine, through the woods, down toward the stream.
But we never found Shinji.
The only things our lights revealed were trampled leaves—
and a set of footprints that simply… stopped halfway.
We had known from the beginning.
That the place was called “the path.”
That if you turned back halfway, you wouldn’t return.
We just never believed it.
To us, it was nothing more than a courage test.
A story to laugh about later.
We went in joking, trading stupid lines.
But now—I understand.
The rumor wasn’t wrong.
We just misunderstood what it meant to “make it through.”
We thought we were escaping.
But in the end, we ran all the way—
and passed through the path.
Only Shinji remained there.
Shūji fell silent for a moment after finishing the story.
He kept his eyes on the candle flame and gave a small shrug.
“…At this point, I don’t even know if it really happened or not.”
And then—
Tok.
The sound of something stepping on stone.
Or at least…
it felt like we heard it.
Shūji lifted his eyebrows for just a second,
then smiled in his usual easy way.
“See? Just your imagination.
Sounds carry at night.”
He leaned forward and blew gently.
Fuu.
The candle went out.
And the room sank into quiet darkness.
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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
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