Free The Graveyard Apartment by Mariko Koike Page A

it’s completely true. Like sometimes a kid gets up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, right? That’s when I would see the hangers in the hall and be certain they were going to come to life. They seemed to have a kind of unearthly glow, too. I would be so petrified that I could only make it to the john if I covered my eyes and ran past the hangers as fast as my legs would carry me.”
    â€œAnd did the hangers run after you, Papa?” Tamao asked with a perfectly straight face. Laughing, Teppei shook his head.
    â€œNo, they never chased me, not even once,” he said. “But that didn’t stop me from thinking they were going to, every time.”
    Misao had a terrible premonition that from now on Tamao was going to be adding stories about being pursued by demonic clothes hangers to her current repertoire of tales about the chatty bird who returned from the dead on a regular basis, so she said emphatically, “When Papa thought the hangers might come chasing after him, that was all in his imagination. A hanger is just a hanger. There’s no way one of them could even move, much less chase anyone. Do you understand, Tamao?”
    â€œYes, I do,” Tamao said, bobbing her head.
    â€œThe truth is, I was a huge scaredy-cat when I was a kid,” Teppei said, turning to Misao. “People who have very active imaginations tend to be easily frightened. If you let your imagination run wild all over the place, you can end up becoming immersed in a realm of make-believe. There are some hazards to a fantasy-driven approach to life, of course, but it can also be very entertaining—if you don’t mind the occasional nightmare! I think that’s why I turned out to be such a superbly creative copywriter, if I do say so myself. I’ve noticed that the people who didn’t grow up with a rich fantasy life never seem to be very good at my line of work, no matter how hard they try.”
    â€œNo, I totally get it,” Misao laughed, fondly draping an arm around her husband’s shoulders. “That was a very persuasive speech. You’re so good at that sort of explanation—I really think you could go on educational television and give lectures. Seriously, you’re a natural!”
    Teppei smiled and gave Misao’s hand an affectionate tap. “Well,” he said as he got up from the sofa, “shall we get to work on the picnic prep? I’d like to hit the road while the sun’s still high, so we can get back by early evening.”
    Tamao’s face was alight with curiosity. “Picnic? Where are we going?”
    â€œWe’re going to pay a visit to a grave, and then we’ll eat some rice balls in a nearby meadow,” Teppei said.
    â€œWhose grave?” Tamao asked.
    Without the slightest hesitation, Teppei replied smoothly, “It’s a friend of Papa’s—someone I used to be close to a long, long time ago.”
    As he spoke, he caught Misao’s eye and gave her a conspiratorial wink. Misao nodded. When her gaze wandered back to the television set a moment later, she saw that the shadow seemed to have reappeared in one corner of the screen, even though the set was turned off. She closed her eyes and told herself, It’s just interference . She really was worried about Tamao, though, with her crazy stories about conversing with the dead bird. She wondered again whether Tamao’s delicate nervous system had somehow been affected by the move and the subsequent death of her pet.
    â€œAll righty, then,” Misao said brightly. “I guess I’d better go and make the rice balls now.” As she headed into the kitchen, she heard Cookie growling. Looking back, Misao saw the dog hunkered down in front of the blank television screen, arching her back like an angry cat.
    â€œCookie?” Misao called. The dog turned and glanced at her, then let out a single brief yelp and went back to staring at the TV