The white thing in the fields

Mira did not sleep.She sat on the floor of her old bedroom until dawn, with her back pressed against the locked door and the photograph lying face-down beside her.
She had not gone back downstairs.She had not looked toward the blue room again.Most importantly, she had not looked at the staircase.
Because every few minutes, she heard footsteps.Slow footsteps.One floorboard at a time.They would begin somewhere near the blue room.
Then they would stop.Sometimes directly outside her bedroom.Sometimes halfway down the stairs.Once, they stopped right beside her.
Mira held her breath.Nothing happened.Then she heard a soft scratching sound against the other side of the door.Three scratches.
Pause.Three more.She remembered doing that when she was little.It had been a game between her and Maya.Three scratches meant:
Are you awake?Mira covered her ears.Eventually, exhaustion dragged her into a shallow sleep.
When she opened her eyes again, sunlight was spilling across the floor.For a few seconds, she forgot everything.Then she saw the photograph.Mira picked it up.She stared at the fourth figure.
The girl behind Maya.Her own face.Her own eyes.Her own hair.But something was wrong.The girl wasn’t looking at the camera.
She was looking toward the fields behind the house.Mira turned the photograph over.The sentence remained.SHE IS STILL HERE, MIRA.
She swallowed.There was something else written beneath it.Something she hadn’t noticed before.A tiny line of Japanese characters.Mira didn’t understand Japanese.
But below the characters was another sentence in English.DON’T LOOK AT HER FROM THE FIELD.Mira frowned.Field?She walked to the window.Behind the house stretched the valley.
Beyond the apple trees were enormous green fields, broken by narrow paths and irrigation channels. They belonged to several families in the village and had been there for generations.Mira remembered playing there with Maya.
Running between the crops.Hiding from their mother.Stealing apples.And watching the mountains turn purple at sunset.
But there was something else she remembered.A story Maya had once told her.A Japanese story.Mira had forgotten most of it.Only one word remained.
“Kune…”She whispered it.Her stomach tightened.“Kune Kune.”The memory came back suddenly.
Maya was sitting beside her beneath the apple tree.She had been eleven.Mira was seven.Maya was holding an old magazine she had found in their grandmother’s room.
“Look,” Maya had whispered.“What?”“The white thing.”Mira had leaned closer.
There had been a picture of a field.And somewhere in the distance was a strange white shape.It looked almost like a person.Almost.
Maya had lowered her voice.“They say if you see it in the fields, don’t go closer.”“Why?”“Because it wants you to.”
Mira had laughed.Maya hadn’t.“That’s the trick.”Mira looked out at the fields now.Her heart began beating faster.
The fields were empty.Or they seemed empty.She stepped closer to the glass.Far beyond the apple trees, something moved.Mira froze.
At first she thought it was a sheet of plastic caught in the wind.It was too white to be a person.Too far away to identify.
It moved strangely.Not walking.Not running.Swaying.Back and forth.The white shape disappeared behind the crops.
Mira leaned closer.It appeared again.Much farther to the left.She stared.The thing was moving through the field.
Mira’s first instinct was to look away.Her second was to find binoculars.She did neither.She simply watched.The white shape swayed again.
Slowly.Almost rhythmically.Mira’s curiosity grew.What was it?A person?A piece of cloth?
A scarecrow?She opened the window.Cold air rushed into the room.The figure stopped.Mira stopped breathing.
It was facing her.She couldn’t see a face.She couldn’t see arms.She couldn’t even tell whether it had a body.
But she knew it was looking at her.A thought entered her mind.Go closer.Mira stepped away from the window.“No.”The thought returned.You want to know what it is.
She closed the curtains.For several seconds, she stood perfectly still.Then someone knocked on her bedroom door.Mira jumped.“Mira?”It was her uncle.She opened the door.
He stood in the hallway holding two cups of tea.“You’re awake.”“Obviously.”He smiled faintly.“You look terrible.”
“Thanks.”He handed her a cup.Mira hesitated.“Uncle?”“Yes?”“What’s in the fields?”
His expression changed.Only slightly.But Mira noticed.“What do you mean?”“I saw something.”“In the fields?”“Yes.”Her uncle looked toward the window.
Then back at her.“What did you see?”“A white figure.”The tea cup stopped halfway to his mouth.
For several seconds, he said nothing.Then he placed his cup on the table.“Don’t look at it.”Mira’s throat went dry.“You know what it is?”
“No.”“You’re lying.”“Mira—”“What is it?”Her uncle’s jaw tightened.
“Your grandmother told you never to go into those fields alone.”“She also told me not to enter the blue room.”“That should tell you something.”Mira stared at him.
“Did Maya see it?”Silence.That was answer enough.Her uncle looked away.“Maya used to watch the fields.”
“How often?”“Every day.”“Why?”“She was fascinated.”Mira remembered the word.
Fascinated.Her uncle lowered his voice.“That is the first mistake.”“What is?”“Being curious.”
Mira almost laughed.“Curiosity is a mistake?”“Not ordinary curiosity.”He looked directly at her.“The kind that makes you want to get closer.”
Mira said nothing.Her uncle walked toward the staircase.“Stay inside today.”“Why?”He stopped.“Because the figure is there again.”
Mira’s blood went cold.“How do you know?”Her uncle didn’t answer.He simply walked downstairs.Mira waited until she heard the front door close.
Then she went to the window.She shouldn’t have.She knew that.She pulled the curtain back by an inch.The field was empty.
Mira exhaled.Then she saw it.The white figure stood much closer.It was at the edge of the field.Maybe three hundred metres away.Mira couldn’t see a face.But she could see the movement.
Swaying.Side to side.Side to side.She closed the curtain.Then opened it again.The figure was gone.Mira stepped backward.
Her phone vibrated.A message.Unknown number.Do you remember the field?Mira stared at the screen.Another message appeared.You used to go there with Maya.
Her fingers trembled.She typed:Who is this?The reply came immediately.
Ask her.Mira’s heart stopped.She looked toward the ceiling.The house creaked.Then her phone vibrated again.She’s watching you.Mira threw the phone onto the bed.
“No.”A soft sound came from outside.Almost like laughter.She turned toward the window.The curtain moved.The window was closed.Mira slowly approached it.
She didn’t touch the curtain.Instead, she looked at the gap beneath it.Something white was visible outside.Mira’s heart hammered.She stepped backward.
The white shape disappeared.She waited.Nothing.Then her phone rang.The caller ID showed one name.
Maya.Mira couldn’t move.The phone kept ringing.Once.Twice.Three times.She picked it up.“Hello?”
Static.“Maya?”A faint sound.Breathing.Then a whisper.“Mira.”She covered her mouth.
“Where are you?”Silence.“Maya, please.”Another whisper.“Don’t come to the field.”Mira’s eyes filled with tears.
“Where are you?”This time, Maya answered.“Behind you.”Mira spun around.Nothing.The call ended.For the next hour, Mira stayed inside.
She tried to convince herself that the phone call had been a prank.A coincidence.Someone manipulating her.
Anything rational.But there was one problem.The number had vanished from her call history.Completely.
As if the call had never happened.At noon, Mira found her grandmother’s old notebook in the sitting room.She had seen it before.A thick leather-bound journal with a broken clasp.
She opened it.Most of the pages were filled with ordinary things.Grocery lists.Medicine schedules.
Names of villagers.Weather observations.Then she found a section written in darker ink.The first page contained one word:
KUNE KUNEUnderneath:A warning, not a creature.Mira read on.The notes described a white figure appearing in distant fields.
It did not chase people.It did not call them.It did not need to.People called themselves.The danger began when someone became fascinated.
First came curiosity.Then obsession.Then the desire to see it more clearly.People would leave their homes to approach the figure.
But the closer they came, the less recognizable the world around them became.Distances changed.Sounds disappeared.Paths seemed to move.And eventually, the person would stop returning.
Mira turned the page.Her grandmother had written:THE WHITE FIGURE DOES NOT WANT EVERYONE.Below it:IT ONLY NOTICES THOSE WHO WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT IS.
Mira swallowed.Another page.If you see it, do not stare.Do not photograph it.Do not follow it.
Do not answer if it appears to react to you.And finally:Most importantly, do not approach it because you are curious.Mira closed the notebook.
Her hands were shaking.Then she noticed something.A page had been torn out.Several pages, actually.She flipped through the journal.
The missing section was somewhere between the warnings and the final entry.Mira searched the room.Nothing.Then she remembered the blue room.
She stared toward the staircase.“No.”She wasn’t going there.Not today.She returned to the journal.
At the back was an envelope.Her name was written on it.MIRA.She opened it.Inside was a photograph.
The fields.The same fields behind the house.The image looked old.Mira examined it.There was Maya.Standing near the edge of the crops.
And beside her was another girl.Mira.She was seven.Mira stared at herself.She remembered that day.She remembered playing in the field.
She remembered Maya telling her not to go farther.But she didn’t remember the photograph.Something else caught her attention.In the far distance was the white figure.Mira’s breath caught.
It was there.Watching them.She turned the photograph over.One sentence.THE FIRST TIME IT SAW YOU, YOU WERE SEVEN.
Mira dropped it.The room suddenly felt colder.She remembered.Not everything.But enough.She had seen the white figure before.
Twelve years ago.The day Maya disappeared.Mira ran upstairs.She didn’t know why.
Maybe because the photograph had frightened her.Maybe because she wanted answers.Maybe because some part of her already knew where those answers were.
She reached the blue-room door.The key was still in her pocket.She hadn’t realized she’d taken it.Mira held it.The door seemed to breathe.
She inserted the key.The lock clicked.Before she turned it, something moved outside the window.
Mira looked.The white figure stood in the field.Much closer now.Close enough that she could make out the shape.It was tall.
Thin.Completely white.Its body seemed to sway even though there was almost no wind.Mira stared.The figure raised an arm.
Mira’s heart pounded.She remembered the rule.Don’t stare.She forced herself to look away.
Then something strange happened.The figure began moving.Not toward the house.Away from it.Slowly.Swaying through the field.
Mira’s curiosity returned.She wanted to know where it was going.She wanted to see what happened if she followed.Her hand tightened around the key.
She opened the blue-room door.The room was empty.Almost.A wooden chair sat beside the window.
On the chair was an old red ribbon.Mira walked toward it.Underneath the ribbon was a folded piece of paper.She opened it.Three words were written inside.
IT KNOWS YOU.Mira’s eyes widened.Then she heard something from the field.A sound.A soft, rhythmic whisper.
Like someone humming.She looked outside.The white figure had stopped.It was standing at the exact spot where Maya had disappeared.
Mira felt an almost irresistible urge to go outside.To walk down the hill.Through the apple trees.Into the field.Just close enough to see its face.
Just close enough to know.She took one step toward the window.Then another.Her hand reached for the latch.
And suddenly—“Mira!”Her uncle shouted from downstairs.She jumped.
The spell broke.She stepped away from the window.Her uncle came running up the stairs.“What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”His eyes moved toward the open window.Then toward the field.His face went pale.“You looked at it.”
Mira said nothing.“You looked at it for too long.”“What happens if I go closer?”“Don’t.”“Tell me.”“Mira.”“Tell me!”
Her uncle grabbed her shoulders.“Your sister asked the same question.”Mira froze.“What?”“She wanted to know what it was.”
He released her.“She became obsessed with it.”“Did she go into the field?”He looked at the floor.“Yes.”“When?”“The night she disappeared.”
Mira felt the room tilt.“You knew?”“I tried to stop her.”“But she went anyway.”“Yes.”“And you never told me.”
“You were seven.”“I deserved to know.”“You deserved a childhood.”Mira’s eyes burned.“What happened to her?”
Her uncle didn’t answer.Outside, the wind stopped.Completely.Both of them turned toward the window.
The white figure was gone.Mira’s uncle whispered:“Oh no.”“What?”He pointed toward the field.There was something written in the crops.
A huge shape.A message.Letters flattened into the green field.Mira couldn’t read it from the window.Her uncle could.His face drained of color.
“What does it say?”He didn’t answer.“Uncle?”He whispered:“It’s not supposed to know your name.”
Mira stared.“What does it say?”He looked at her.Then back at the field.Finally, he spoke.“It says…”His voice broke.
MIRA, COME FIND MAYA.The lights in the house went out.And somewhere far away in the field, something white began to sway.
Once.Twice.Three times.As if it were waiting.As if it knew she would eventually come closer.And this time—Mira heard Maya laughing.
The lights in the house went out.Mira stood frozen beside the window.For a moment, there was nothing.No wind.No birds.No sound from the house.Then, from somewhere beyond the fields, came a soft laugh.
Maya’s laugh.Mira’s eyes widened.“That’s impossible,” she whispered.Her uncle grabbed her arm.“Don’t listen.”But the laughter came again.
This time, it was closer.Much closer.Then a voice whispered from the darkness outside.“Mira…”She stopped breathing.
Her uncle looked toward the window.The white figure was no longer in the field.It was standing at the edge of the apple trees.Watching the house.Watching her.And beside it stood another figure.
A girl.Long dark hair.Red ribbon around her wrist.Mira couldn’t see her face.Then the girl slowly raised her hand.
She pointed toward the house.Toward the blue room.The white figure began to sway.Once.Twice.Three times.And the girl whispered something that Mira could barely hear through the glass.
“Come upstairs.”Mira’s blood ran cold.Because the voice wasn’t coming from the field anymore.It was coming from inside the house.
A floorboard creaked above them.Then another.Someone was walking toward the blue room.Mira looked at her uncle.He was staring at the staircase in absolute terror.
And then, from the darkness upstairs, came three slow knocks.Knock.Knock.Knock.
The same signal Maya had used when they were children.Mira’s eyes filled with tears.She knew what the knocks meant.Are you awake?Before she could answer, a fourth knock came.
This one was different.Louder.Closer.And then a voice whispered through the darkness:“You should never have remembered.”
The staircase creaked.Something began coming down.One step.Then another.Mira held her breath.
And somewhere outside, the white figure suddenly stopped swaying.It was smiling.To be continued…