The Girl from the Well

Sorry for not replying sooner. I’m feeling tired lately, and I’ve been sleeping a lot. I haven’t been doing much while Dad’s at work, just walking around all day and taking in whatever sights I can find. I’ve been to the Shibuya shopping district, which has an insane number of people at any given time of day, even at night. It reminds me a bit of an organized stampede, like a sea of people rising up to do battle at Prada armed with nothing but shopping bags and a credit card, or something.

I think that’s what’s been getting me tired. Dad’s worried. I can tell because he just canceled two meetings he had to attend so we could go to three doctors who ran a lot of tests but couldn’t find anything wrong with me, anyway. They think it’s a form of culture shock, trying to get used to being in Japan. I mean, I’m pretty shocked no one seems to know what ketchup is every time I set foot in a McDonald’s, because that must be the only reason they don’t serve it, but I don’t think that’s necessarily the deal breaker here.

I even had sushi for the first time today. It tastes a little funny, but it’s not too bad. Finding any reason to eat food raw and skip cooking altogether sounds good in my book.

So in summary—no one really knows what’s wrong with me, if you exclude the fact that I can see dead people.

Nice to know a little more about Okiku. If I was a ghost I’d be bored haunting the same spot for hundreds of years. I’d try getting into Disneyland since I could get on all those rides for free. Or Las Vegas. Would an underage ghost still be allowed inside a casino, hypothetically?

One other thing. This morning there was a small earthquake around Shibuya—nothing worrying, just strong enough to be noticed. And apparently the seismologists they spoke to for the evening news are puzzled. Japan has an earthquake warning system to let them know about these things in advance, but this earthquake never even triggered it. Only people within a three-mile radius of the apartment actually felt the shocks, which doesn’t seem to be normal earthquake behavior. I’m hoping I have nothing to do with this, but it doesn’t seem likely.

Neighbor kid was just at the door. He wanted to know why we wouldn’t let the woman into the apartment. I asked him what woman this was, but he just shrugged and wandered away.

What is the deal with all these weird, creepy ghost-seeing kids? Exempting yours truly, of course.

Gonna head off to sleep.

? ? ?

He downplays his condition, his humor masking his own worry, and Callie thinks little of it at first. Been eating lots of ramen since getting here, she writes instead.


It’s easy to make, and that’s good. I don’t think we’ve had much time to cook lately. There are a lot of small affordable ramen shops near the apartment we’re staying in, and we’ve been making use of them a lot. There’s one shop in particular called the Oishiya that serves almost the most perfect-tasting ramen I have ever had. Allison says that Oishiya literally means “delicious store,” and I can see why.

Are you getting enough to eat, and are you taking some vitamins? (I know I sound old. Shut up.) I don’t know much about Tokyo, but the air in the countryside is supposed to be good for your health. You should ask Uncle Doug to bring you around places that won’t have as many cars or people, like somewhere outside of the city without all the congestion. From your descriptions of the people in Shibuya, I don’t think large crowds make for the best medicine.

As for Okiku, don’t worry too much about her. I’m sure she’s been around long enough to know what she’s doing, even if we don’t.

And yeah—that is one disturbing child.

? ? ?

Tarquin’s condition worsens as Callie’s Kansai tours draw to a close. His father brings him to prestigious clinics, to medical experts. Tarquin is soon spending the night in hospitals, but little about his peculiar malady is known, and his health declines for no discernible reason that anyone can see. Even Tarquin can no longer pretend to himself that all is well.