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Suicide Forest


The past several months, I have been scraping up every last penny for a trip. A trip to where? A trip to where maybe I could see the world from other people’s perspectives.

Suicide Forest. Better known as, Aokigahara.

For those of you who do not know, Aokigahara, is a large forest in Japan where, you guessed it, people go to end their lives.

Now you may be questioning my sanity, asking “Why would you visit a place like that? Are you crazy?” Hah, no, I’m not. But I’ve always been more on the curious side, and work well with creativity. My mother has noticed it in me at a young age.

So, I booked the flight.

Upon arrival of entering Suicide forest, it’s a rather pleasant looking place. Bright green leaves, tall, and very well lively trees. It looked like a place of hopes and dreams. The next few steps in, spoke differently. It was as if the temperature dropped below freezing. An eerie feeling washed over me, making me feel uneasy. But I wasn’t going to go back. Not after all I had done to get here.

I took cautious step by cautious step, and after approximately half a mile of walking, I came across a skeleton.

It wasn’t as terrifying as you’d expect it to be, seeing a skeleton is person, but it more than definitely still sent a shiver down my spine. I held a steady gaze on it for a few moments, then shifted my eyes upon a movement.

A squirrel snaked up a tree, and out of sight. I let go of a breath. Little guy fucking got me. I didn’t realize I was so tense up until now. I loosen my shoulders and kept walking.

Not after too long, I came across another corpse. Not a skeleton, a corpse. I stood still, inspecting the body, taking it in from head to toe. Few strands of black hair remained in the scalp of what I assumed was a young woman. That’s what really made me pause and take in a breath. She looked so young, despite the fact she rotting right before me. I noticed something in her limp hand. A crumpled paper. Reluctantly, I snatched the paper from her stiff fingers.

For some reason, it felt very.. forbidding to mess with what the dead have left.

I un crumpled the paper, blood drumming in my ears.

The writing was jagged, and was in Japanese. I put it through google translate, the rough translation came out as this:

He will not leave me alone.
Everywhere I go, he is there, following me.
I can’t take it anymore.

The note ended there. I couldn’t help but feel solemn for the poor girl. I walked off stiffly, with this weird achy feeling in my heart. I couldn’t name it. It was weird, feeling empathy for a stranger. Stranger than ever. The next few hours, I traveled farther and farther into the forest, discovering more bodies. Bodies of the broken hearted. Bodies of those who had given up. By now, I had collected 10 suicide notes. I felt like something very forbidding was following me upon putting the notes of the dead in my pocket. I felt something.. someone, nagging me. Attacking me. I had a feeling if I stayed in here any longer I’d lose my marbles.

Maybe I wasn’t prepared to come here.

Ten minutes later, I felt the urge to rummage through my pockets, and check on the notes. I came across the first one I collected. The one written by the young Japanese girl.

Except it didn’t say what it used to.

私たちはあなたを見ている

—
Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

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