(Creepypasta) The Bible for the Damned
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Koga Yohachi liked to believe he was in the wrong. He wanted to be reminded that every second of his life was nothing more than a disatvantage to the people around him. Maybe, he thought, that would give him an answer as to what he was doing with himself. Maybe it would finally make sense.

Koga sat motionless in his room, one hand resting on a cushioned mouse pad and the other frantically skipping from button to button on his keyboard. He didn't know whether it was day or night; he hadn't bothered to lift the blinds in a while. The stale remains of store-bought ramen was tucked behind his setup, next to a mound of crumpled papers and empty candy wrappers.

The walls were light blue, but everything else was plain. Monotone, even. Everything about the room was desolate; it looked like nothing, smelled like nothing, and felt like nothing. The slight chill from the ceiling fan was the only thing that reminded Koga that he still existed, that he hadn't died and ascended to some kind of afterlife without even noticing.

He was playing a first-person shooter, one he had been playing for the past month. He didn't bother to remember the name. The objective was irrelevant— just run around and shoot people, and the last man standing won the match. After the last shot was fired, and the round ended, a message popped up in the chat:

"Good game. I am going to leave now."

Koga replied; "Why?"

"Because I have school tomorrow?"

"See you later," another player said.

"Are you sure you can't stay longer?" Koga asked.

"I can't. I have school."

"It can wait."

"I need to go."

And then he left the server. Koga barely moved an inch, with any hint of emotion showing no signs of existence. He and the other player were the only ones left. His name was Mikasi, and Koga had gotten to know him over a course of a few months. He had never seen his face, or heard his voice for that matter. He didn't even know if Mikasi was his real name.

After a moment of silence, Mikasi said, "People can't play forever, Koga."

"I know."

"Then why were you so desperate to keep them around?"

"I'm not. It's just that I don't like playing with only two people."

"Koga, you always do this. Every time somebody logs on you want them to stay. I'm concerned."

"You don't have to be concerned."

"Do you know anyone in real life?"

Koga hesitated. "Yes."

"You should spend more time with them, with real people. You're online for too long, Koga."

"It's fine."

"Don't you have school?"

"I do. I should be going now."

It took a minute for Mikashi to post his response. "Okay. See you later."

And with that, Koga finally closed the game. The silent noise of the desktop flooded his ears, and its stark light dripped from the screen. He curled up in his seat. He thought about going back to school for once. What it would be like, and if he could make new friends. It was certainly entertaining, but he was happy where he was. He didn't need school, or friends. This was all he needed. His computor and his room, alone.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. He turned to face it and pulled it open. It was his mother. Her face was barely visible throigh the crack of the door, and she wasn't even looking at him, merely staring through him. She reached to him and held a bowl of soup. His dinner. He bowed and took it from her, whereas she shut the door, leaving Koga to himself once again.

From there on, the only thing he could hear was the sound of his mom slurping up her share. She took her time between each bite, barely making a racket at all. Koga didn't eat, he just listened. While he did he thought back to real life. On the occasion he decided to surf the internet, he had seen videos other people made of their lives. Some of them lived in Tokyo, like he did. Needless to say, it looked fun. They travelled around, making money just by filming their experiences. Koga wanted to be them; to just magically fly away and go on his own journey.

And like always, it always came back to real life. He could only dream of having that much fun. But all he could do was listen to his mother in the other room, walking around and washing the dishes. He could sweaer he heard her breath falter a few times.

He decided to play another round. He wanted his mom to be happy— happier than he could ever be. That she only could without him.

This is a story about a few things:

  • Japanese death cults and the steadily rising suicide rate.
  • An entity beyond time and memory, located just under Tokyo. It manifests as a distorted, non-Eucladian version of the entire city.
  • Death, and how most characters in the story (sometimes must) learn to accept it.
  • The unnatural and uncanny lust for death.
  • The inspiration for this story was:
    • My history of depression and suicidal thoughts, and the idea that death always persists (which I have thus accepted).
    • This video.
    • The Lonely Death phenomenon.
    • Hopelessness.
    • SCP-3999.
    • The Hikikomori Phenomenon.
      • "They can do whatever they want regarding treatment. They can kill me for all I care. I've even thought that killing me might make me better."
    • How Japan is glorified on the internet, yet the fact is that the country's darker sides are as morbid as its culture is unusual.
    • The intense expectations set in the common Japanese work and school enviroment (a primary cause for the rising suicide rate, I feel).
    • How Japanese media (i.e. gameshows, anime, etc.) falsely represent Japan as this almost perfect, cutsesy, advanced utopia. It may be successful, but underneath is a gloomy situation in a mental standpoint.
    • Residents living permanently in Japan's cyber-cafés - Lost in Manboo
      • "In the countryside, people are more open. But in big cities like Tokyo, people don't care about one another. They only care about themselves. They are indifferent."
      • "I don't have… what you might call a dream. I don't even know where I'll be one year from now. I don't care what happens to me. I don't seem to have dreams, plans."
    • Work anxiety.
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