【Japanese Horror】The Hundred Horror Tales — Episode 40: The Photo That Turned Toward Me | Haunted Kaidan Tales
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Episode 40 – “The Photo That Turned Toward Me| Haunted Kaidan Tales” (Full Text)
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Episode 40 — The Photo That Turned Toward Me
For a while, no one spoke.
The candle flame flickered quietly.
Sōma let out a small breath.
“A call from the future, huh.”
“Even if it were real… there’s no way to prove it.”
Aoi leaned forward a little.
“But… what if it really was from the future?”
Miwa shrugged.
“Who knows.”
“I guess all we can do is imagine.”
Just then—
Shūji gave a soft chuckle.
“Speaking of imagination…”
He leaned forward slightly.
“I just remembered something… a strange story.”
“It’s about a haunted spot.”
Shūji glanced at the candle flame.
“This was a long time ago…”
“There was this place—people said a spirit would appear deep inside a tunnel—”
The rumor about that place—
It had long been said that a man’s spirit appeared there.
It was an old tunnel along a mountain road,
and even during the day, it felt strangely dim.
The tunnel itself wasn’t very long,
and yet… the darkness inside always felt deeper than it should.
It was well-known in the area.
At night, young people often came for dares.
There were a few common stories.
A man standing deep inside the tunnel.
A man slowly walking down the road at midnight.
A man appearing right in front of your car.
That kind of thing.
Just your typical haunted spot rumors.
Back when we were younger,
we went there once.
Just for fun.
We weren’t even twenty yet.
We used to gather at night and drive around to places like that.
It wasn’t really about fear.
It was more like a game.
That night, we piled into a car and headed up the mountain road.
The tunnel sat halfway up the mountain.
There were barely any streetlights.
At night, the road was completely dark.
The headlights were all we had.
As we got closer,
we could see something like a black hole in the distance.
That was the tunnel.
Even then, we were laughing in the car.
“They say a guy shows up there.”
“Then let’s take a picture if we see him.”
That was the mood.
I don’t think any of us were actually scared.
After a while, the tunnel entrance came into view.
It was an old concrete tunnel,
with weeds growing all around it.
The road curved slightly before reaching it.
There was a guardrail just before the entrance,
following a gentle bend along the mountainside.
We stopped the car a little before the tunnel and got out.
The mountain at night was quiet.
Somewhere in the distance, insects were chirping.
The air felt a little cold,
and carried a damp smell.
Even from outside, the inside of the tunnel looked dark.
The far end was completely swallowed in shadow.
“Let’s take a picture here.”
Someone said it casually.
Since we came all the way,
we figured we might as well take some photos.
Not inside the tunnel—
just before it.
At that curve.
We stood in front of the guardrail,
messing around while taking pictures.
Back then, we didn’t have smartphones.
Just a small digital camera.
We passed it around, taking turns, snapping a few shots.
Some of us made stupid poses,
some pointed toward the tunnel.
Everyone was laughing.
At that moment—
there was nothing strange.
The tunnel.
The slope beyond the guardrail.
It was all just darkness.
Nothing unusual happened.
After taking the photos,
we peeked inside the tunnel for a bit—
and then we just went home.
That’s all a test of courage ever is.
No spirits show up.
No real fear.
Just going out into the mountains at night, making noise, and heading back.
That night—
it was nothing more than that.
We didn’t look at the photos until some time later.
After the test of courage,
we got together again to go through the pictures we had taken.
Back then, we didn’t have smartphones,
so we usually uploaded the photos to a computer to view them.
We gathered at someone’s house,
loaded the data from the digital camera,
and went through them one by one.
It was just a casual, nostalgic kind of time.
“Man, it was cold that night.”
“Look at your face—you look terrified.”
“That’s because you blasted the light right at me.”
We laughed as we talked.
There were a few photos taken in front of the tunnel.
Photos of us lined up by the guardrail.
Photos pointing toward the tunnel.
Photos with stupid poses.
Every single one of them
was just an ordinary snapshot.
Until—
“…Wait a second.”
One of us stopped the mouse.
“What?”
“Here.”
He pointed to the edge of the screen.
We all leaned in to look.
It was the edge of the photo—
just beyond the guardrail.
The slope of the mountain.
At first, it was hard to tell.
It was dark—
it could’ve just been a shadow.
“…Is something there?”
someone said.
“Where?”
“There.”
The cursor moved, zooming in on that area.
Beyond the guardrail.
On the slope.
There was a dark shape.
It looked like… a person.
For a moment, everyone leaned closer.
Then someone said—
“Hey.”
“Isn’t this… a ghost photo?”
That one line stirred things up.
“No way.”
“You’re serious?”
“That’s messed up.”
Half joking, half excited,
we all stared at the screen.
The image was enlarged further.
The blurry shape slowly became clearer.
Beyond the guardrail.
On the slope.
It really looked like someone was standing there.
Facing away from us.
Just a silhouette—
a back view.
Long hair falling down the back.
“…Isn’t that a woman?”
someone murmured.
We all looked again.
It did look that way.
Long hair.
A slender back.
A woman, facing away from the camera.
Then someone else spoke.
“…Wait.”
“Wasn’t this place supposed to be a guy?”
That one comment—
shifted the air, just slightly.
The spirit in the tunnel—
was supposed to be a man.
“Hey…”
I said, still staring at the screen.
“Have you ever heard anything about a woman at this spot?”
A few of them looked up.
“A woman?”
“No… I don’t think so.”
The answers came right away.
“It’s a guy, isn’t it?”
“The one standing deep inside the tunnel.”
“Yeah.”
“I heard he walks down the road at night too.”
“And shows up right in front of your car.”
Everyone started listing the rumors they remembered.
This tunnel was a well-known haunted spot around here.
Whenever people talked about dares or ghost stories,
this place always came up.
So we’d all heard the same kinds of stories,
over and over.
A man standing deep in the tunnel.
A man walking down the road at midnight.
A man appearing in front of a car.
It was always a man.
“Then what about a woman?”
I asked again.
There was a brief silence.
“…No. Never heard of that.”
“Me neither.”
“Nope.”
They all shook their heads.
In the end,
no one had ever heard a story about a woman.
So we looked at the photo again.
Beyond the guardrail.
On the mountain slope.
There was something shaped like a person.
Long hair.
A slender back.
It looked like a woman.
“…That’s a woman, right?”
someone said.
“Yeah… looks like it.”
“Hair’s long.”
Someone zoomed in a little more.
It was still blurry,
but the shape was clear.
A single figure,
standing beyond the guardrail.
We stared at the photo for a while.
No one knew any stories about a woman.
And yet—
she was right there in the picture.
That was the only thing that stuck with me.
For a while, I forgot about the photo.
It wasn’t exactly scary—
just something strange we had captured.
Even so, every now and then,
I would remember it… and look at it again.
One day, it came back to me,
so I opened it.
The photo we took in front of the guardrail.
The figure was still there—
in the exact same place as before.
On the mountain slope.
Beyond the guardrail.
A figure with long hair,
facing away.
Up to that point,
nothing had changed.
But—
something felt off.
“…Huh?”
Without thinking,
I leaned closer to the screen.
It looked slightly different than before.
Just a little—
like it had turned.
It had only been a back view before,
but now the angle of the shoulders seemed… off.
Very slightly—
it looked like it was facing more toward me.
“…Must be my imagination.”
I told myself that.
Photos can look different depending on how you see them.
So I didn’t think much of it.
Then, some time later—
I looked at the photo again.
And that’s when—
it looked even more turned than before.
What had only been a back view—
felt like it was
slowly turning toward me.
After that, some time passed.
And then, one day—
I looked at the photo again.
It had been a while.
I opened it without thinking.
The photo we took in front of the guardrail.
That’s when—
I saw it.
The face was turned
much more toward me.
From between the strands of long hair—
one eye was visible.
And that eye—
felt like it was looking right at me.
Just for a moment—
it felt like our eyes met.
And then, a thought crossed my mind.
If it kept turning like this—
eventually…
it might come out of the photo.
So I stopped looking.
Shūji kept his eyes on the candle flame.
“…What about you?”
“Would you keep looking?”
He let out a faint smile.
“…I couldn’t.”
Then—
he gently blew on the flame.
—fuu.
One candle went out.
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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?
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