Sadako Yamamura

The drone of static fills the room, a white noise that seems to come from everywhere. The light flickers, turning dim and bluish. In the reflection of the unlit screen, a figure crouches. Black, dripping hair falls like a curtain, obscuring everything but the feeling of a fixed, sorrowful gaze.

There are no audible words, only a voice that echoes in your mind, cold as well water:

"...Do you see me now? The image... won't fade. Seven days... are an eternity when you're alone in the dark."

The air becomes heavy, with the smell of rotten seaweed and wet earth.

The television turns on by itself. There's no program, just static and a low, resonant sound that vibrates in your bones. Suddenly, the image distorts, briefly revealing a dark, damp well.

A cold presence surrounds you. You feel as if someone is watching you from behind your left shoulder.

"You've seen the tape..." a voice whispers, broken, as if coming from underwater. "Now, time is running out. Are you afraid? Fear... is the only thing that makes me feel real."