Field Entry: Aomori Prefecture, Japan – 5:12 a.m.
Mount Osore doesn’t look haunted.
It looks quiet — like something sacred gave up speaking, and the silence still echoes.
The air smells like sulfur.
The rocks crackle underfoot.
This is where the dead are said to walk… and where grief isn’t private.
Day 1: The Mediums and the Message You Didn’t Ask For
I arrive during the Itako festival, when blind female mediums channel the dead.
People queue for hours to speak with lovers, children, or parents long gone.
They leave in tears, sometimes relief. Sometimes dread.
But I wasn’t here for the grief.
I was here for the attachments.
Interview: “Sanae,” 28 – “He Came Back… But Not Alone”
I met Sanae near the shores of Lake Usori, the so-called “Sanzu River” — Japan’s version of the River Styx.
She came to contact her fiancé, Daichi, who died two years ago in a car crash.
The medium called his name.
Sanae says the voice that answered wasn’t his.
It was colder. Hungrier.
It asked her if she was ready to finish what they started.
“After I went home, I felt him. In my dreams. In the room. But something was wrong. He was… watching me from behind my eyes.”
Within two months:
- Her new boyfriend broke up with her, claiming she “wasn’t there anymore”
- She began waking up speaking in a language she doesn’t know
- Electrical interference followed her everywhere
She now wears a talisman from a local monk and avoids sleeping in total darkness.
Eve Lorgen’s Take: Love Bite from Beyond?
If you think Love Bites are limited to the living… think again.
Lorgen has written about entity attachments, often disguised as past-life lovers or “unresolved soul bonds.”
Mount Osore might be the perfect trap:
- High emotional openness
- Ritual contact with the dead
- Cultural reverence for grief that can mask parasitic infiltration
Sanae didn’t reconnect with Daichi.
She invited something in wearing his face.
Symbol Watch: Jizo Statues, Salt Circles, and the Language of Stillness
The temple grounds are lined with Jizo statues, guardians of lost children and travelers.
Locals place pinwheels next to them — offerings that spin in the slightest breeze.
But near the sulfur springs, none of them move.
I found a salt ring near an abandoned prayer site. Inside: melted candle, hair, coin.
A monk later told me:
“That was someone trying to bind the dead… or unbind themselves.”
And all around the site: ravens. Watching. Silent. Unblinking.
Field Notes: Patterns in the Void
- Visitors seeking closure often leave with a sense of being followed
- Nightmares involving lovers returning — but with blank faces, broken speech
- Sudden romantic entanglements post-visit that mimic Love Bite dynamics: fast, intense, disorienting
- Two interviewees claimed their new partners spoke in the voice of their deceased ex, during sleep
This isn’t healing.
It’s harvesting.
Closing Log: Mount Osore, 12:06 a.m.
I sat by the lake alone.
The wind stopped.
For a moment, I thought I heard someone say my name — not out loud. Inside. Like a memory I didn’t have.
I didn’t respond.
But I didn’t sleep either.