Never Call the Name| A Chilling Japanese Horror Story
The Warning on the Path
On a quiet night in a secluded mountain village, five college friends found themselves heading toward a local legend—the infamous “Bridge Where You Must Not Speak a Name.”
Their curiosity had been piqued earlier that evening when the village’s sole convenience store owner had shared a warning.
“It’s said that if you call someone’s name on that bridge, bad things happen.”
City kids to the core, they had laughed off the old man’s words, calling it the perfect setup for a test of courage. Yet, as they treaded the dark, winding mountain path, their banter couldn’t quite mask the unease settling in the air.
“How about we test it out? Call a name and see what happens,” one of them joked.
“Don’t be stupid. You never know—it might be true,” another replied.
But the group instinctively stopped in their tracks when they reached an ancient, weathered sign standing just before the bridge. Illuminated by the faint moonlight, the bold brushstrokes read:
“Beyond this point, do not call a name.”
Beneath the sign, a small rope adorned with paper cranes and scattered wooden talismans lay in disarray. The strange sight left them momentarily speechless.
“This is… a bit more serious than I expected,” one murmured.
“If anyone wants to turn back, now’s the time,” suggested Mika, the cautious one.
But Kohta, ever the cheerful leader, turned with a grin and dramatically exclaimed, “Don’t chicken out! It’s just a silly story. Let’s go!”
Following Kohta’s lead, they stepped onto the bridge. The creaking of the old wooden planks echoed through the valley below, where the rushing sound of the river made their footing feel all the more precarious.
“This legend probably started because of all the accidents here, right?”
The words had barely left someone’s mouth when Kohta spun around with a mischievous smirk and shouted, “Hey, Tomoya! Mika!”
A chilling gust of wind enveloped them at that moment, followed by a metallic clanging sound that sent everyone into a stunned silence.
When the stillness returned, no one dared to laugh.
“Didn’t that wind… feel strange?” Mika’s voice was sharp, her eyes fixed on the edge of the bridge where the sacred rope had been moments earlier. It was gone, as if blown away by the unseen force.
“…Maybe something bad really will happen,” someone muttered.
No one replied. They crossed the bridge in tense silence, their pace quickened by a growing sense of dread. Yet, as they made their way back through the dark woods, a faint, eerie sound trailed behind them.
It was the sound of their own names being called
A Sudden Disappearance and the Haunting Dream
The next morning, the group was stunned by a message from Mika in their group chat.
“Kohta didn’t come home last night.”
The words jolted everyone awake. Panic set in as they scrambled to contact each other and began searching the village. They scoured every corner, from the area near the bridge to the rest of the small settlement, but found no clues. Eventually, they turned to the police, only to be met with a dismissive explanation: “It’s not uncommon for people to get lost in the mountains.”
It was Tomoya who voiced what they were all secretly thinking.
“Do you think this has anything to do with Kohta calling our names last night?”
His words brought the events of the previous night flooding back to everyone’s minds—the unnatural silence, the chilling gust of wind, and the faint sound of their names on the way back. It all felt disturbingly connected.
“That’s ridiculous. It’s just a coincidence,” Mika said, forcing a laugh. But the tremor in her voice betrayed her unease.
That night, Tomoya had a dream. In it, he was walking across the bridge, buffeted by fierce winds. As he glanced down into the rushing stream below, something began to rise from the water—Kohta’s face.
“Tomoya…”
He jolted awake, his heart pounding. But the chill didn’t end there. A cold, slimy sensation clung to his ankle. Pulling back the blanket, he froze. Tangled around his leg was something that looked like dark, waterlogged weeds. He cried out, but the silence of his room swallowed his voice.
The next morning, Tomoya shared his experience with the group. As he recounted his tale, Mika and Kenta turned pale, their faces drained of all color.
“It has to be the bridge. Calling names must have triggered something,” Kenta said, his voice trembling.
“But triggered what?” Mika asked, her tone sharp with desperation. No one had an answer.
A Curse and a Fateful Decision
Desperate for answers, they decided to seek help from the locals. Their first stop was the convenience store where they had first heard the legend. When they explained the situation, the store owner’s face darkened.
“I told you not to call names. That bridge has been cursed for a long time,” he said firmly.
“What do you mean?” Mika pressed.
“I don’t know all the details,” the man admitted. “But years ago, there was a massive flood. People from the village were swept away, and ever since then, it’s said that if you call someone’s name on that bridge, bad things happen.”
“Do you think that’s why Kohta disappeared?” Tomoya asked, his voice edged with urgency.
“I can’t say for sure. But these things aren’t to be taken lightly. You should leave it alone.”
Despite the man’s cold warning, the group decided to dig deeper and visited the village elder.
The elder spoke in a hushed tone. “They say if you call a name, something beneath the bridge becomes aware of you. It lures the one who was called and drags them into the river. In my time, no one dared break that rule.”
“Then how do we save Kohta?” Kenta asked, his desperation palpable.
The elder shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. In my generation, no one broke the rule.”
Just then, a faint voice echoed from somewhere far away.
“Kohta…”
The group froze. Rushing to the window, they peered outside, but the streets were empty. Only the eerie sound of the wind lingered in their ears.
That night, they made a decision. They had to return to the bridge and uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
A Confrontation with the Unknown
That night, they resolved to return to the bridge. If they were to bring Kohta back, they had no choice but to face whatever was lurking there. With cold winds howling around them, the four stood silently at the edge of the bridge.
“No more calling names. Something’s definitely reacting to it,” Mika said, her voice trembling.
The roar of the stream echoed from below as Tomoya cautiously stepped onto the bridge. Suddenly, the wind died down, and the air grew unnaturally heavy. At that moment, a movement stirred deep within the river.
“Kohta…!”
The voice rang out, clear and unmistakable, making everyone gasp. They looked around but saw no one. Yet, it was undoubtedly Kohta’s voice. Peering into the dark waters below, they saw a faint, wavering figure—it looked like Kohta, or something resembling him.
“Kohta!” Tomoya shouted, but Mika quickly grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“Don’t! Something’s not right…”
Her warning came just in time. The figure vanished abruptly, replaced by something else. Rising slowly from the depths was an amorphous black mass, like the essence of darkness itself. It had no clear shape, yet it exuded an oppressive presence that made it impossible to look away.
“Run!” Kenta yelled, but his voice seemed to be swallowed by the eerie silence surrounding them.
Though their minds screamed at them to flee, their legs felt rooted to the spot. The dark entity began to shift and stretch, reaching toward them, as if seeking something—someone.
Just then, a paper crane, left earlier as an offering, was caught by the wind and fell into the river. The moment it touched the surface, the black mass froze, as though momentarily stunned.
Seizing the opportunity, the group shouted to one another and managed to stumble back from the bridge, their hearts racing.
A Haunting Warning
“Run!” Mika’s scream tore through the stillness of the night. The group bolted from the bridge as one, the eerie sounds behind them growing louder with each step. None of them dared to look back.
Only when they reached a safe distance did they stop to catch their breath. It was then that they heard it—a faint voice calling from far away.
“Kohta…”
They turned instinctively and saw a soaked figure standing on the bridge. It resembled Kohta but stood unnaturally still, its expression eerily blank. Slowly, it raised a hand, as if reaching out to them.
“Kohta?” Tomoya’s trembling voice broke the silence, but before he could take a step, Mika grabbed his arm, her grip firm.
“That’s not him… It’s not Kohta!” she hissed.
Her words sent a chill through them all. As they watched, the figure began to distort, its shape twisting unnaturally. Wisps of black fog rose from its form, swirling before sinking into the darkness below the bridge, leaving no trace.
They stood frozen, exchanging glances filled with equal parts fear and disbelief. While the immediate danger seemed to have passed, a strange unease crept down Mika’s spine. In the silence, a cold whisper brushed against her ear.
“You might be next.”
She spun around, but there was nothing—only the quiet night stretching endlessly before her. Yet, in the corner of her eye, she caught sight of something: a newly tied sacred rope swaying gently at the foot of the bridge.
This story is a work of fiction. Please enjoy it as entertainment.
If you were on this bridge, would you dare to call someone’s name? Let us know in the comments!
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