AM I PREETY? 😈😈

The night air in the small village of Sakamura hung heavy with fog. Crickets had long gone quiet, and even the wind seemed afraid to whisper. Beneath a pale moon, narrow streets wound between old houses like veins, pulsing with a fear no one dared to name.

The villagers had always whispered of something that walked after dark. Something cursed. Something that once used to be human.

High above the village rooftops, a streetlight flickered like a failing heartbeat. Its dim glow spilled over a quiet sidewalk where a boy of sixteen trudged alone, his schoolbag weighing more than usual on his back.

Kenji Nakamura had stayed late after cram school to prepare for his university entrance exams. He lived with his grandmother, who always warned him not to take the long road through the old district after sundown.

But tonight, he was tired. The shortcut through the abandoned part of town would save him fifteen minutes. He told himself he didn't believe in ghost stories anyway.

Until he saw her.

At the end of the street, standing beneath the sputtering streetlamp, was a woman in a beige coat. Her long, black hair covered most of her face, and a surgical mask wrapped tightly around her mouth. She stood unnaturally still, as though the world had stopped moving just for her.

Kenji froze.

"Maybe she needs help," he whispered to himself, though his voice trembled. He took a step forward.

The woman looked up. Her eyes locked with his.

Then she spoke.

"Am I pretty?"

Her voice was soft, almost kind.

Kenji hesitated. The story his classmates told in hushed tones came rushing back. They had laughed nervously, but now the memory brought no comfort.

“Just say yes,” they had told him. “Always say yes.”

Kenji managed a nod. “Y-yes. You’re pretty.”

The woman tilted her head. Slowly, she reached up to her face and pulled down the mask.

Kenji’s breath caught in his throat.

Her mouth had been split open from ear to ear. Her lips were stretched into a grotesque, permanent smile, the flesh jagged and scarred, teeth exposed like broken glass.

Blood crusted the corners of her mouth.

“Am I still pretty?” she asked again, her tone darker, more deliberate.

Kenji’s knees buckled. He stumbled back. “Y-yes... You’re beautiful,” he stammered.

For a moment, silence.

Then, she grinned wider.

“Liar.”

She lunged.

Kenji screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the night. The streetlight above him died with a pop.

The next morning, villagers gathered around a small alley just behind the old bakery.

Kenji’s body was found sprawled in the dirt, eyes wide with horror, mouth slit open from ear to ear.

A single line was carved into the ground beside his corpse, written in his own blood:

"She is still pretty."

THE END.

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