This was when I was a student.
I had a friend who was in the same seminar.
For some reason, we were such good friends that we often went out for drinks.
One day, he spoke to me with a mysterious look on his face.
“I took some weird pictures…”
According to him, he found a strange object in a photo he took at a drinking party last week.
I immediately asked him to show me the picture, but for some reason he hesitated and would not show me the picture.
Of course I was curious, but seeing how depressed he was, I hesitated to push him too hard.
Three or four days later. He looked even more serious and depressed.
He even had dark circles in his eyes, and it was obvious that he had not had a good night’s sleep for some time.
It must have been because of that picture.
I tried to push away the bad premonition that was rising in me at that time.
I asked him again to show me that picture.
“I got it.”
Having made up his mind about something, he finally agreed to show me the picture.
“Are you sure you want to see that?”
Even though I had asked for it myself, my anxiety about looking at the pictures remained clinging to me, and I was feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
I promised to show them to him at his house and left the place.
That night. I visited his apartment.
Ding-dong.
No matter how many times I ring the chime, he never answers. Even though the light in his room is on.
Is he sleeping? Thinking this, I put my hand on the door knob.
It is open.
It is a small room, so the moment I open the door and look into the room, I can confirm whether or not he is absent.
He was absent with the house open.
I decided to enter his room without permission.
There was an ashtray, and there was a residue of burnt ash.
It is the residue of burning photos and negatives.
I don’t know why, but I still remember that I felt a terrible crushing anxiety.
The residue had burned up, and I could not tell what was in the picture. I could not even discern what it was.
Next, I noticed that a single photograph had fallen under the desk.
The photo showed a strange object.
His face was twisted and gnarled.
It was a disaster. In a word, that’s it.
I couldn’t stay there even a second longer.
He disappeared after that day.
