Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

Midnight was a minute away, and the summer heat was five degrees above bearable. Two thirteen-year-old girls and a ten-year-old boy waited for midnight to come. Mariko and Aya looked around one last time and nodded their satisfaction. Their preparations were complete. One hundred homemade paper lanterns filled the large tatami room from top to bottom. They were in concentric circles of five, ten, fifteen, and twenty on the floor. The ones above followed the same pattern. The three children sat in the middle of the five lanterns.
“Light your lanterns,” Mariko said. First, the inner five above and below flickered a bright orange, but stayed lit. “Good job, Shu.” Then the second and third rings blazed a deep red. While the last rings glowed an ethereal cyan.
“Yours are so pretty. Who’s a little genius?” Aya said as she tickled Mariko under her chin. Mariko fought her off with several fake karate chops. Shu laughed, and then Aya came after him.
“Here’s your reward for those cute lanterns.” Aya flashed her usual devilish smile. Shu froze up as any boy his age might when faced with an older, pretty girl.
“We need to start,” Mariko said as she grabbed Aya’s shorts and sat her back down. Aya pouted and snapped her fingers. “I’ll go first and set the tone.” Mariko used a remote to turn off the lights. The unearthly beauty of the multicolored lanterns gave the room a mysterious aura. “My first story is ‘Pothole’.”

POTHOLE

The rain had stopped as Yuto left the train station. He looked up at the oppressive gray sky and sighed. Gloomy days like this were the worst when walking home from school. They invited bad luck or something; at least that is what the town’s grannies and grandpas said. Yuto believed it because of the pain in his left side. He put his right hand over it. Days like this made it flare up. Yuto made his way through town, past the mom-and-pop stores and artisanal pottery workshops that the town was renowned for. Soon, the paved road turned to dirt as he neared the residential area. Yuto’s pain sharpened; it felt like a large needle sliding into his side. Every step was another needle piercing him as he neared the crossroads. The crossroads were at the entrance to his neighborhood. Houses lined the three roads ahead. Only the new ones were on Yuto’s street. Yuto’s house was two minutes away down the center street. Between him and his house, however, stood the Trio. This group of boys went to a different high school and singled Yuto out for fun. Their only distinguishing features were their heights. Tall, short, and average that’s who they were to Yuto. He never cared what their names were. The bullies harassed him weekly. Rainy days were the exception; attacks always happened on those days. Yuto walked forward, looking down at the various puddles that had formed in the dirt road. He needed to remain silent, so he avoided them. Luckily, the Trio had their backs to him as they stood in the middle of the road. Something on the ground held their attention. All Yuto had to do was sneak past them a bit and run home. He knew he could do that much. Yuto gave them a wide berth, but before he could make it past the Trio, the short boy spotted him. They pounced like hyenas, pushed him down and dragged him to where they were standing. At the crossroads’ center, there was a hole the size of a dinner plate. It was dark inside, so dark that you couldn’t tell if it was deep or shallow. That darkness drew the three boys to it. Now, Yuto peered into the darkness. He wondered if it was a sinkhole caused by an unexploded bomb, like the one on the news.

“Put his hand in,” said the tallest. One boy kneeled on his back legs, the tallest held his head to the ground facing the hole while the shortest shoved his right arm in. Cold air and earth surrounded Yuto’s arm. The hole was like a funnel, wide at the top but gradually narrowing until it encased Yuto’s arm. His fingertips grazed something warm and brittle.
“It can go further,” said the short boy. Yuto tried to fight back, but they jerked and pushed him until his shoulder was in the hole. Yuto felt a sharp pain, and then a squishy crunch as his hand hit the bottom. The warmth from earlier became a burning pain that slithered up his arm beneath his skin. Yuto screamed. The tallest boy punched him, then covered his mouth. Yuto bit him, and the boy let go. He checked his hand, and a piece of skin was missing. Yuto spat the skin in the face of the shortest boy. He freaked out and released him. The average boy brought his full weight down on Yuto and put his right forearm across his neck. Yuto snickered.

“Shut up,” the average boy said. He brought his face closer to Yuto’s. A wide grin appeared on Yuto’s face, and then he blew a puff of thick blackish-green smoke at him. He started coughing. The thick smoke clung to his nose and throat, making him dizzy. Yuto slithered out from under him and ran. He headed down the street towards his house. The other boys chased him. Yuto made it to his house first and rushed inside without closing the door. The boys arrived ten seconds later. As soon as they entered, the door slammed shut. The Trio jumped. They turned and looked up. Yuto clung to the wall above the door like a spider. He looked down at them with jet-black, serpentine eyes.
“The weak are the meat for the strong to eat,” Yuto said. He exhaled a blackish-green miasma that drifted toward the bullies.