Feeding the dead

By Jessica Lynne Gardner

The sun had begun losing the battle against the night- the days were growing shorter and colder and Mrs. Komatsu knew what that meant. Her people had always been known to worship the sun- especially her family line. It was the symbol of vitality and life and triumph over night. But the darkness was necessary too, for life could not exist without it. She opened her bare pantry and frowned. There was just enough red bean paste and rice to make the cakes and Sake. Aside from being key ingredients they always helped to cover the smell of the rotting meat.

Parting the yellowed blinds, she glanced out the window into the green backyard. The property really was an eyesore, as her late husband had called it, but it had just enough greenery to give some privacy and the old stone well was perfect for feeding the mouja. She turned away from the window as her eyes grew misty from remembrance. What she wouldn’t give to see the water gardens of Japan one last time. She put a hand around her back as the familiar pain stabbed its way through her body. But the same responsibility that had kept her from returning and now was keeping her from dying.

She worried about Zach taking on the ritual. After his father’s death she tried to shield him from the harshness of the world. Especially the mouja. It’s alright, she told herself, I’ll do it once more.  

When the rice balls were ready she sat them down on a silver tray. Her swollen hands shook, causing the cakes to slide to one end. Where was he? He was always home by now. Part of her didn’t want the door to open. She shook her head at her own selfishness and taking a bottle of store bought Sake from the fridge, smoothly poured it in a silver and glass goblet and sat it beside the sweetly smoking incense and plate of sweet, warm desserts. This tradition needed to be done with care and attention to detail. Normally she would have brewed the rice wine herself but it had been difficult to concentrate these past few weeks and there was no more time. Tomorrow night marked the deadline.

The largest and most expensive part of the meal was already waiting outside in a small trash bag. She carried the tray through the sliding glass door and knelt by the little stone bench. Her hands spread open the yellowed calligraphy scroll and she began reading the katakana.  The sharp pains in her back had migrated around her hips and she groaned. Please, she silently pleaded, keep me alive just long enough to finish… She stood and her legs quivered, the tray dropping to the ground. The world began spinning like a black and white pinwheel and her thoughts rested not on the ritual but on her only child.

***

It was one AM and he was already plastered. Usually he waited until he was home to drink but Tanya had invited him to a bar close by and he couldn’t refuse. They’d hung out once or twice with some of their old high school friends and it had just been recently that she’d wanted to be alone with him. She smiled, her blue eyes glittering in the dim light, “I think you’d better stay over my house tonight. You can’t drive home like that.”

“Ok…I’m not complaining…”

She put a hand on his and he felt a jolt through his entire body.

“Zach… Your phone is ringing. Can’t you feel it?”

He put a hand on his pocket and gave a sheepish smile. So much for that jolt… “Yeah?” There was silence on the other end. He shrugged and took a look at the number.

“Who was it?”

“My mom. I forgot to tell her…that…uh..”

She laughed. “Here, let me drive you home.”    

The ride was blissful and quiet. He watched her turn the wheel sharply around the corner, her wispy blonde hair swaying slightly. She turned and smiled. “What?”

            “Nothing just admiring the view.” She shook her head and turned her attention to the street. He stared at the orange lights and jack o lanterns that decorated the neighbor’s lawns. It really was a strange tradition to celebrate death but he’d never really understood it. His mother never celebrated. She’d always told him that if he ignored the dead, they would ignore him too.

Halfway down the street from his house they saw different kinds of flashing lights. A sick feeling worked its way into Zach’s belly. He saw a stretcher with a black plastic sheet being carried toward the ambulance. He stumbled out of the car and walked up to an officer. “What-what’s going on?”

            “I’m sorry this is confidential. Do you know the person who lives here?”

            “Uh no. I live here.”

            “Are you drunk son?”

            “Not completely…”

            “Listen. I’m sorry if you know this person but she’s passed away. A neighbor heard a loud noise and when they approached the house they found her in the backyard.”

His system was too messed up to react so he didn’t. He should have cried but instead he just stared. Nausea swept over him and it felt like his head was floating. The sounds around him faded and his vision went dark.

When he woke he was in his room with his clothes on and reeking of pot and cheap beer. He groaned when he tried to sit up. His head felt like a punching bag. There was a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach and he felt like crying but didn’t know why. Carefully making his way to the kitchen he found the living room empty. “Ma?” He licked his lips and tried again, “Ma?” The silence in the house answered him and he felt dread rise up his throat. Something had happened…something bad… He glanced out of the window to see if she was outside. Sometimes she would sit out there early in the morning to watch the sunrise. Bright, warning orange caught his eye and the memory of what happened electrocuted him. The tape blocked off an area between the stone bench and the well, the area still containing the objects that she must have dropped. His eyes filled with tears so he closed them. He remembered Tanya driving him home only to find the lights of the ambulance and the stretcher with the petite form underneath the black bag…    

The phone rang and it was the police. They questioned him for about a half an hour and then later informed him that there was a dead cat in a trash bag found at the scene and that his mother had died from long term renal failure. Zach rubbed his spiky hair. He’d known that she’d had some pain but she’d always been so energetic and healthy that he’d never thought this could happen. The woman ate steamed vegetables for most of her life. He lay back down, lacking the energy to do anything else.

After sleeping for the rest of the day, he walked through the dark, silent house and slid open the door of the porch. He didn’t believe in ghosts but somehow he felt closer to her there as if her spirit was lingering. It was dusk and the few remaining birds were in full symphony despite the chill. On the ground by the door was an open chest. There were very few furnishings around the house as it was and yet he’d never seen this before. When he examined it, he saw that there were intricate carvings on the lid of robed figures carrying trays through a large archway.

The sharpness of the cedar curled his nose. Two silver trays, incense sticks a serrated knife made of ivory or bone and a piece of paper were neatly stored inside. Written in his mother’s handwriting, the letter was crisp and white as opposed to the aged look of everything else. It was new. It read:

My beautiful son,

I feel there are many things in this world I did not have time to show you. The most important thing has been left out on purpose. I wanted to protect you from the horrors of this ancient ritual so I always did it myself when you were gone. Once a year I feed the mouja to protect humankind from their hunger. My family has done this every Halloween for the last thousand years as was the agreement with the mouja and now it is time for you to learn. Do not feel guilty for the act you must commit as it is for the greater good. I have written a guide on how it is done and you must follow it exactly or else their hunger will not be satisfied and they will take over the living realm. There are three courses that must be prepared: sake, sweet ohagi, and-”

The letter ended at the bottom of the page. He looked on the back but found it blank. He found no other traces of paper until his eye caught a torn piece further down the yard and he ran to pick it up. A crudely drawn picture of a well was all that remained. The rest must have blown away. Zach shoved the paper in the chest and carried it inside. He felt a pang in his ribcage. His mother must have really been in pain toward the end- delusional even. All this talk about the mouja, whatever that was, and rituals.

            He locked the door and sat down in the living room. Digging for his cell in his pants pocket he saw a missed call and dialed Tanya. She answered almost right away.

            “Hey Zach…how are you feeling?”

            “Awful but I’m surviving. I don’t think it’s hit me yet.”

            “Aww you must be so upset. Do you want to go to a movie or something? I know it’s a little soon but you shouldn’t just sit there alone…”

            “Yeah I can come out for awhile. I’ll meet you in front of the theatre in an hour.”

            “No stay there. I’ll pick you up.”

            He sighed, feeling slightly guilty that he was going out the night after his mom died. They’d never been as close as other families. He knew that she loved him but she was never that affectionate. But her silent, dependable presence and stoic advice had always made up for it. Getting up, he walked toward the bathroom and stopped. He’d heard something…a scratch on the door. He shrugged and closed the door of the bathroom. There was no point of closing it now but he’d always felt safer with the doors shut. Taking off his tee shirt his heart leapt as he looked in the mirror. Half of his face was bare of the flesh. He could see the beefy muscle and bone; his almond-shaped eye looked as if it would fall from the socket. With a surprised yelp he leapt back, falling into the tub.

The image in the mirror was normal again when he picked himself up. He gasped touching his face for reassurance. Glancing toward the shower he envisioned the scene from psycho and decided to wash up at the sink instead then threw on some jeans and a tee shirt.

            Peering out the glass of the front door he saw crowds of kids dressed in colorful costumes migrating up the street. He had almost forgotten that it was Halloween. Even though she’d never approved of the holiday, his mother had let him go to parties and trick r treating with his friends. His eyes threatened to cloud upon thinking of her again but he wiped at them and sniffed it back.  

            A chill worked down his spine as he heard something scrape loudly outside. It sounded more like it was against stone than glass. Fear paralyzed him. It could be a thief or…worse. He hurriedly closed the blinds without looking out and shut off the light. His heart was beating so loudly that he could hear it. Thud, thud, thud. But his blood ran cold when the beat quickened and got louder. That wasn’t the sound of his heart. He felt a faint vibration and knew someone or something was outside. Then the glass shook as something beat against it. He screamed.

            “Zach! Open the door!”

            He unlocked it and found Tanya trembling. She jumped into his arms and he locked the door behind her.

            “I-I was out front getting ready to knock on your door and something”, she stopped to catch her breath, “something was there.”

            “What do you mean? What was there?”

            “I don’t know. It looked…wet and dark but its eyes were…horrible.” She started to cry.

             “It’s ok. It was just a shadow or something.”

            She unburied her head from his shoulder. “No- it wasn’t! I saw it turn and look at me.”

            “Tanya…”

            “I know what I saw!” She yelled.

            He shushed her and they moved to the couch in the living room.

            “Just calm down ok? We’re both upset from the other night. I know it-” The scraping sound outside continued. She jumped as something slapped against the porch door.  

            “What was that?” she whispered.

            He swallowed. He tried to hide his nervousness but he knew there wasn’t much more time. They were already coming to claim what was theirs. “Just a cat.”

            “You’re lying! You know what they are don’t you?!” she demanded, her mascara running down her face. The metal handle began jiggling.   

              Zach jumped up, his thin face flushed. “I don’t know! My mom…she…she had this box with carvings and stuff and she called them the mouja. She said we have to feed them but I don’t know what.”

            “The mouja?” her face grew distant and she pulled out her phone. “How do you spell that?”

            “M-o-u-j-a.”

            She was silent as she typed it in Google. “Mouja is the Japanese word for the dead. Like zombies.” She shivered and looked up and he could see the fear in her eyes. “What do you think they eat?”

            “I don’t know but I have an idea.”

            He pulled over the chest and took out the two silver trays. Handing one to Tanya, they walked into the kitchen and he loaded some chocolate chip cookies on the first tray and beer on the other.

“The dead eat cookies?” she asked, brow raised.

“I guess. She always bought more desserts and alcohol this time of year. Maybe that’s why.”

She nodded uncertainly. “Do we have to go outside?”

“Yeah. We’re going to drop it into the well. There was a picture of a well drawn on the letter I’d found in this chest.”

“It must be a type of gateway,” she breathed. She started trembling again as his hand touched the door. They walked out into the cold, dead night. He emptied the tray of cookies into the bucket and lowered it down into the well. He heard something that sounded like breathing and brought the bucket back up. It was empty.

“They took it!” she breathed. He lowered the beer down next. They heard something scrape against the aluminum, the rope shaking violently. When the cord grew still, he drew the bucket back up and placed it on the ground.

All was quiet.

“Is that it?”

A wet, heavy gurgling sounded from the bottom of the well. “No I don’t think their full yet.” He grabbed her and kissed her deeply then he threw her into the well. He cringed from the sound when she hit but knew that she was at least was dead or unconscious before she saw them. He watched them crawl over to her and begin tearing off the flesh. They looked up at him, acknowledging that humanity’s end of the deal was met. Their eyes shone in the dark, the dry remains of insides showing through most of their skeletal body. Mother had been right; the sacrifice was needed for the good of all. He knew he hadn’t done it the proper way but this was a new generation taking over. It was time for a more modern menu and what better food for the dead than a sacrifice of the living?    

Copyright ©2009 Jessica Gardner