<figure id="attachment_399309" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 1920px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-399309"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="9a66816a"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2024/11/68f4ffdc0b92178d4824466181e576b6.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-399309" class="wp-caption-text">What Mr. A, who overslept and was left behind at an unmanned station, encountered.</figcaption></figure>
<h3>Five minutes is more than long enough to distort a person.</h3>
Is it possible to instill fear in someone within just five minutes?
The &#8220;5-Minute Series,&#8221; published in collaboration between the novel creation platform Evrysta and Kawade Shobo Shinsha, is a popular collection of ultra-short stories designed to move readers within five minutes, each organized around a specific theme. With 40 volumes released and a cumulative 1.6 million copies sold, the series has now collaborated with horror author Nashishi to produce &#8220;Left Behind in the Last 5 Minutes,&#8221; which was released on October 29 and has been generating buzz.
Nashishi, a rising star in the horror genre, is known for writing primarily on the internet and co-producing the much-talked-about &#8220;Missing Exhibition,&#8221; held from July to September this year. The book includes ten horror stories selected by Nashishi, designed to &#8220;leave readers behind&#8221; in an irrational world within five minutes of reading.
In the book, Nashishi, who wrote the prologue and commentary, remarks in the &#8220;Commentary&#8221; section:
&#8220;The time it takes to finish each piece is approximately five minutes. While this may seem short at first glance, it is more than enough time to distort someone. A person can die in just ten seconds, and even a subliminal effect inserted in less than a second can alter consumer behavior.&#8221;
One of the works included is &#8220;The Crying Little Girl&#8221; by Senane, offering readers a chance to experience the absurdity of being &#8220;left behind&#8221; in a world that has slipped away from everyday reality—within just five minutes.
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="Crying Girl by Senane"></div>
<h3>A man is stranded at a strange, unmanned obsession station.</h3>
This is a story from a time before mobile phones became widespread. Mr. A, who works in sales, had dozed off on the train while heading home directly from a client’s office and ended up missing his stop by a significant margin. He arrived at an unfamiliar, unmanned terminus station, and the last train had long since passed.
&#8220;Well, there&#8217;s nothing I can do. I’ll have to call a taxi,&#8221; he thought.
He inserted a telephone card into the public phone, but it didn’t respond. Surprised, he tried inserting coins instead. With a dry clinking sound, a ten-yen coin was returned. The phone seemed to be broken.
&#8220;Great,&#8221; he muttered.
Reluctantly, Mr. A decided to walk in search of another public phone. Stepping outside the station, he found himself on a lonely rural path with only a few streetlights casting dim glows. Beyond the rice fields, he could faintly see a few houses, but all of their lights were off. He couldn’t possibly ask anyone to borrow their phone.
&#8220;But if I can just reach the village, I should be able to find a public phone somewhere.&#8221;
It was a time when public phones were common, unlike today. Though it was a hassle, Mr. A wasn’t overly worried. Walking alone in the dark rural streets, where he didn’t pass a single person, he moved steadily forward. Although the season was nearing autumn, it was oddly quiet, with no sounds of insects chirping.
As he pondered how unusually quiet the rice fields were for this time of year, suddenly, the area around him was bathed in an orange light. He turned around to see a car, its high beams glaring at him.
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="The cab met him on a dark country road. ......"></div>
<h3>This road, you see, is haunted.</h3>
Shielding his eyes from the glare, Mr. A looked at the car, only to find that it was a taxi. Moreover, it seemed to be empty.
Seizing the opportunity, Mr. A waved his hand to stop the taxi. The car glided smoothly to his side, came to a halt, and the door opened. As he got in, the driver, a friendly-looking man in his fifties, smiled and spoke.
&#8220;What&#8217;s a gentleman like yourself doing out here alone at this hour?&#8221;
The driver was a small man in his fifties. Mr. A explained the situation.
&#8220;Ah, that&#8217;s unfortunate. To fall asleep and miss your stop on the ** line, of all places, at such a late hour. By the way, where can I take you?&#8221;
&#8220;Could you take me to a hotel in ** city?&#8221;
The driver acknowledged the request and started the taxi.
&#8220;Well, you know, you&#8217;re quite lucky. I had some unavoidable circumstances today, which is why I&#8217;m driving down this road at such a late hour, but usually, I wouldn&#8217;t pass through here at night. Really, you&#8217;re quite fortunate.&#8221;
&#8220;You’re lucky,&#8221; the driver repeated, with a tone that clearly hinted at something.
Curious, Mr. A asked, &#8220;Is there something about this place?&#8221;
The driver responded, &#8220;Oh yes, there’s definitely something. A lot, in fact.&#8221;
He exaggeratedly nodded his head.
&#8220;This road, you see, is haunted.&#8221;
Without needing to ask further, Mr. A already had an idea of what the driver meant.
&#8220;Haunted? Do you mean ghosts?&#8221;
&#8220;Yes, yes. That&#8217;s exactly it. This place, you know, is famous among locals for being haunted at night.&#8221;
&#8220;What kind of&#8230;?&#8221; Mr. A began to ask, but just then, the driver slammed on the brakes.
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="Don't go there!"></div>
<h3>A girl with pigtails in a bright red dress.</h3>
Mr. A lurched forward, slamming his head into the seat of the driver&#8217;s compartment.
&#8220;What the hell—&#8221;
As he sat up, Mr. A saw it. In the high beams of the taxi&#8217;s headlights, there was a little girl crouching under a tree by the side of the road.
The girl had braided hair and wore a bright red dress. She appeared to be about seven years old. Mr. A instinctively checked his watch. It was nearly 1:00 AM. At this time, in such a place, it was highly unusual for such a small girl to be alone and crying. Thinking something must have happened, Mr. A reached for the taxi door to rush over to her. But—
&#8220;Don&#8217;t go!&#8221;
The driver shouted in anger, and Mr. A instinctively pulled his hand back.
&#8220;Wha—what do you mean? A little girl like that, crying out here at this time of night? This is serious!&#8221;
Mr. A protested.
However, the driver only shook his head, his face pale.
&#8220;You can&#8217;t go. Don&#8217;t you dare go, sir…That child is not of this world.&#8221;
A chill ran through Mr. A, and the blood drained from his face.
&#8220;I told you, right? It appears here. That&#8230; that&#8217;s what it is.&#8221;
The driver pointed tremblingly at the girl. Seeing the fear in his face, Mr. A tried to calm himself. Upon reflection, it made sense. It was far more likely that the girl wasn’t in danger from an incident, but from something else entirely. The driver was right—she was most likely not of this world. Probably. Most likely.
But—
&#8220;Ah, ku-wabara, ku-wabara. I shouldn’t have looked, I shouldn’t have seen it. Damn it, damn it. This is exactly why I hate this road&#8230;&#8221;
The driver muttered to himself as he fiddled with the gear shift. A soft clink followed, and the taxi slowly began to move again.
They passed by the girl.
In that moment, Mr. A saw it.
The girl was looking at him, with a pleading gaze.
Without thinking, Mr. A’s body moved on its own. He opened the taxi door without hesitation and ran toward the girl.
He knew he was doing something foolish, something dangerous. He was aware of the risk. But even if that girl turned out to be some kind of monster, and even if he were to suffer terribly like a character in a cheap horror movie&#8230;
—He could not, would not, abandon a crying child.
There was no way he could ever do that.
Excerpt from &#8220;The Crying Little Girl&#8221; by Senane, from the compilation Left Behind in the Last 5 Minutes edited by Nashishi, published by Kawade Shobo Shinsha.
<h3></h3>
Why couldn&#8217;t Mr. A bring himself to abandon the girl? The reason will be revealed in the next part. And what shocking conclusion awaited Mr. A?
<a href="https://friday.kodansha.co.jp/article/399290"> Part 2: &#8220;You came after all,&#8221; the girl giggles, and&#8230; &#8220;Left behind after 5 minutes&#8221; is the ending of a very short horror story.</a>
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<figure id="attachment_399311" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 919px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-399311"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="bfcf4afb"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2024/11/db99dcbe2cb193ce1146f05865d9235f.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-399311" class="wp-caption-text">Contains 10 very short stories</figcaption></figure>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.co.jp/5%E5%88%86%E5%BE%8C%E3%81%AB%E5%8F%96%E3%82%8A%E6%AE%8B%E3%81%95%E3%82%8C%E3%82%8B%E3%83%A9%E3%82%B9%E3%83%88-5%E5%88%86%E3%82%B7%E3%83%AA%E3%83%BC%E3%82%BA-%E6%A2%A8/dp/4309612563"> The Last to be Left Behind in Five Minutes&#8221; (Edited by Nashi, published by Kawade Shobo Shinsha)</a>
<a href="https://web.kawade.co.jp/tameshiyomi/110073/"> Full text of the prologue is available</a>
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 Five minutes is "long enough to distort a person," writes horror writer Nashi. From "The Last to be Left Behind in Five Minutes," a collection of very short horror stories selected by Mr. Nashi, we present "The Crying Girl" by Senane.

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