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The Jackson Residence - 8:21am
Suicide. At least, it should have been, thought Detective Norris as he stared numbly at
the young man's body, swaying gently in the air-conditioned room. The late Richard
Jackson had been home with his family the entire evening, going up to play video
games in his room at nine. His parents had been there the entire night, and the quaint
suburban home had been locked up tighter then a Scotsman's piggybank. Christ.
Someone would've heard if the goddamn kid was being murdered.
"Kids," mumbled Lieutenant Michaels, "one day they're playing baseball, next they're
hanging themselves. I blame rap music and video games."
"So you think Jackson killed himself?" mumbled Norris, gazing intently at the corpse.
"Well yeah," stuttered Michaels, suspecting that he had just missed something rather
obvious. "I mean, the kid's mom said he went upstairs to play his games. Next morning
he was hanging from the ceiling fan by a controller. He even left a note." The officer
motioned to a crumpled yellow post-it pad that read "I can't feel the sunshine."
"Then how do you explain his eyes, Michaels," interjected the detective, nodding
toward the blue head, lolling above the makeshift noose. Gold coins sparkled in its
eye sockets. "Are you saying that a suicidal boy calmly jammed two coins into his own
eyes before doing the hanging himself?"
"No, sir…" squeaked Michaels as he backed away from the detective.
All the pieces fit for this to be a suicide, save for those strange coins. Norris had heard
of some cultures placing money over the eyes of the deceased as a payment for
whatever reaper they believed in, but the man seriously doubted a young American
kid would have bought into that kind of hoodoo. A quick search of Richard's room
turned up no signs of occult interests. But then, what were those coins?
The detective reached up and carefully removed the golden discs. The eyes behind
them were the full of broken blood vessels. They resembled crimson rubies, thanks to
the nooses' serpentine grip.
Hold on, thought Norris. They weren't coins at all, but tokens.
Tokens bearing the face of some cartoon animal.
****
Dunkin Donuts - 10:00 am.
Norris sat alone in the local coffee shop, staring at rubbings of the tokens, savoring
the brief relief of a cup of joe. He had questioned Jackson's grieving mother about the
golden trinkets, but she swore that she had no idea where her late son had found
them. Maybe they were arcade tokens or something. Obviously the kid liked video
games. Hell, one was still running in his room when his lifeless body was found. The
game system was now in an evidence locker with the mysterious coins.
"Mom!"
Norris peered up to see a little boy being dragged by his mother across the coffee
shop. The boy was clutching a Game Boy or something, and he was staring wide-eyed
at the rubbings on the table.
"Mom! That man has pictures of Sonic," gibbered the child excitedly.
Norris glanced down at mascots that had embossed the tokens. "You know this
character?"
"Sure! It's Sonic the Hedgehog, the fastest thing alive," the boy ranted
enthusiastically, before his mother, wary of strangers, dragged him away. Sonic the
Hedgehog? What the hell is that? Some kinda cartoon?
Norris took a swig of coffee and nearly choked. There was something in his drink. He
spat out the bitter beverage and was horrified by what he saw.
Another Token.
***
The Police Station - 1:00 pm
Detective Norris sat in his cramped office fingering the mysterious token. No one at
the coffee shop had admitted to putting it in his drink, and the beverage had never left
his hands since he purchased the damn thing. This case was getting pretty queer,
and Norris was sure the tokens were the key.
Sighing, he reached out to his desktop, and googled the words "Sonic the Hedgehog."
The internet was lousy with entries. Apparently "Sonic" was some kind of videogame
character. "Figures," mumbled Norris, as the smirking, spikey visage of a blue
hedgehog appeared onscreen. It was the same as the ones on the tokens. Obviously,
Richard was a video-game junky, but the question remained, where did the poor kid
find the tokens? "Hopefully not in his coffee," chuckled Norris grimly.
He entered the words "Sonic the Hedgehog Tokens" into the search engines. After a
brief pause, the results came back.
"Sonic R…."
*Vrrrrr*
*Clink*
The computer's CD drive slid open, revealing yet another token.
***
The Jackson Residence - 5:00pm
He was back at the scene of the crime. The boy's body had been taken to the morgue,
but the room still radiated the chill of death. Richard's mother didn't understand why
the detective was back, but she trusted that he had his reasons.
Little did she suspect, Norris wasn't really sure either.
After considerable research, the detective had discovered that the tokens were part of
an old video game, called "Sonic R." It apparently wasn't a very good game - hell,
some asinine website called it "cursed" - but it was a game none the less. The odd
thing was that there was no mention on any site of the tokens being actual objects.
They were supposed be part of the game. Still, Norris had a hunch, and his hunches
were usually right, so he decided to check back with the Jacksons.
And there it was. Wedged with several other games on a dusty bookshelf, was a copy
of "Sonic R." As Norris reached for it, the setting sun cast swaying shadow across the
room. For a moment it looked as if the boy's corpse had returned, but it was simply a
cruel trick of the light.
He picked up the game, and opened it's slightly sticky jewel case. Inside, a shiny disk
glinted back at him.
Son of a Bitch! The CD was gone.
It was another token.
That made five in all.
The lights went out, leaving Norris in the comparative gloom of the dusk. He called to
Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, but there was no answer. They were probably in the basement,
looking for the circuit breaker.
*CLICK*
In the shadows near the bed, a small TV/VCR combo in the corner flickered to life. A
distorted fanfare warbled out of the tinny speakers, and the words "PREPARE FOR
CHALLENGER" faded onscreen. Bathed in the ambient blue light of the screen, Norris
cautiously stepped toward the television. Being a cop, he was not easily spooked, but
this was getting kind of eerie.
*CLICK*
The TV was off, once more.
The hairs on the back of Norris' neck began to rise defensively. The temperature
seemed to drop, and a red glow enveloped the room. The very air itself stank of
death, and all Norris could hear was the oppressive buzzing of flies.
Something very soft, and slightly fuzzy brushed up against his hand.
Detective Norris looked down and did something he had yet to do in his thirty years on
the force.
He screamed.
***
The Jackson Residence - 6:00pm
When the detective hadn't come down in nearly a half an hour, Mrs. Richardson
climbed the stairs to her late son's room to investigate. She hadn't heard a peep from
the man since his sudden arrival.
She put her ear to the door.
*Thump*
*Thump*
*Thump*
"Detective Norris?" she inquired through the closed door.
*Thump*
She carefully opened the door and peered inside. To her horror, Detective Norris's
body was hanging from the ceiling fan by his own necktie, his lifeless body bumping
idly against the wall.
*Thump*
Two gold tokens had been jammed into his eye sockets.
____________________________________________________________________
In the going on four years I’ve been running this site, I have received a lot of tales.
This is not the only tale that offers an origin to the curse, but it is perhaps the oldest.
What follows is an obscure legend from what was once called the Naka region of
Japan.
Long ago, there lived a doll maker. Unlike many stories, he was not the finest in all
the land. His dolls were of mediocre craftsmanship – cast in inferior porcelain, wearing
simple robes of linen, and painted with an unsteady hand. He was not a bad or lazy
man; he simply had neither the talent nor the means to produce the high-quality dolls
that the feudal nobility demanded. He tried his best, but his dolls remained upon the
shelves and his wife and son remained hungry and impoverished.
One day, he received word that the daimyo in the next region was urgently seeking
the services of a doll maker. The lord’s daughter favored a masterpiece of a doll ― a
finely crafted work of art, clad in the most elegant of silks and jade. A clumsy servant
smashed the doll’s face by accident and consequently the child had fallen gravely ill.
The lord believed that only upon mending the doll would the child be saved. Knowing
that fixing the doll would gain him notoriety and honor beyond his meager abilities, the
doll maker bid his family goodbye and set off on the long trek to mend the doll and
hopefully the child as well.
Three nights into his journey, the doll maker came to a bridge. Upon crossing the
water, he was beset upon by a trio of thieves who beat him savagely. When they saw
that the traveler carried only doll making equipment, they tossed his bags into the
river and fled. With nothing left, the doll maker wept and awaited death.
But death did not arrive, as such. He was discovered by a bewitching beauty. A
gorgeous young woman who walked as softly as the breeze approached him,
concealing her face behind an elegant fan of silk. “Why do you cry?” she giggled.
“Am I not beautiful?” The doll maker apologized, for surely this ethereal beauty
belonged to a house of great stature and recounted the events of that evening. At
the end of his tale, she touched his shoulder and led him deep into the forest to her
elegant estate. There she dressed his wounds and seduced him.
The next morning, the woman offered to teach the doll maker to make dolls without
porcelain in exchange for his everlasting love. Desperate for the knowledge, he
eagerly accepted. Using cord and cloth, she taught the man to sew whimsical forest
animals and stuff them with straw and fluff. Under her guidance, the doll maker
created brightly colored likenesses of the hedgehog, the spiny anteater, and a large
cat.
“Bring these to the child and she will love them,” the woman said. She gave him a
necklace with a red jewel on it as a token of her love and sent him on his way, telling
him to return to her as soon as he was successful.
The doll maker finally made it do the daimyo’s estate. Though he could not mend the
broken doll, he offered the sick girl his stuffed cloth animals. She adored them and
the doll maker was richly rewarded. With his new skill and reputation, he could finally
support his family. He made haste for home, making sure to avoid the forest where he
met his beautiful benefactor.
When he got home, he gave his wife the jeweled necklace, saying that it was a gift
from the daimyo. With his son as his assistant, he began making the strange cloth
animal dolls which were now highly sought after. Many years passed and the family
became rich and respected.
One night, the doll maker heard his wife calling to him from his workshop. Upon
entering the room, he discovered his wife nailed to the wall. Her mouth was sewn shut
and black tears were streaming from her bloodshot eyes. The doll maker tried to run
to her, but blocking his path was the beauty from the forest, clutching the jeweled
necklace in her hands. She appeared as young as ever and from the two silky tails
that twitched angrily behind her, it was clear that she was a kitsune.
The forest spirit giggled, nastily. “You promised me your heart and soul, doll maker,
and I always collect. Your payment is late, so I will simply have to take more. I will
have your soul, your wife’s, and everyone that enjoys the fruits of your labors. After
all, these stuffed creatures are our children.”
When the doll maker’s son returned home, he discovered that his parents had
vanished and the workshop had burned down. Sifting through the ashes, he
discovered that all of the dolls had been immolated, except one ― a captivating
kitsune doll with two tails and a red jewel upon its head.