The Child on the Cliff

Tonight, once again, I shall tell you a strange tale from Japan. Relax… but do not turn around too quickly. I am watching just behind you. Heh, heh, heh…

This is a story I once heard from a man.

He told me about his friend, a foreign traveler who adored Japan and had visited many times. He was no stranger to the country—he spoke a little Japanese, enough to get by, enough to understand. On one trip, that friend wandered through the fishing towns of northern Japan, following the winding roads that hugged the coastline.

One evening, he stopped at a small pull-off on the edge of a cliff. From there, the view was breathtaking. Below, the waves crashed violently against the rocks. Far out on the horizon, the sun was sinking, painting the sea a deep, burning red. A few other people stood nearby, quietly admiring the scene.

As the light faded, the other visitors drifted away. He was just about to return to his car when he noticed something strange. A child stood alone by the guardrail.

Puzzled, he asked in his broken Japanese, “Where is your mother? Your father?” The child said nothing. Instead, they slowly raised a hand and pointed down toward the black, churning sea.

There was nothing there.

Uneasy, he told the child, “It’s dangerous here. Go sit on that bench and wait.” The child nodded obediently and walked toward the parking lot. Relieved, he got into his car and drove away.

Ten minutes later, as he rounded a sharp curve further down the road, his blood ran cold. The same child was standing right there in the middle of the bend.

No car had passed him. No one could have arrived ahead. He slammed the brakes. And in that instant, the figure vanished—like mist in the fading light.

Shaking, he realized the truth: the curve was far sharper than it appeared. Had he not slowed down, his car would have plunged straight off the cliff.

Maybe… the child had saved me, he thought. Whispering a soft “Thank you,” he exhaled in relief.

That was when a voice spoke.

From the back seat.

A small, cold voice. In perfect Japanese. Words he understood all too clearly.

“You should have fallen.”

He froze. Terrified, he sped to the nearest convenience store and rushed inside. After explaining what happened, the clerk only shook his head and said quietly:

“Three years ago, a family of three drove off that very curve. Since then… people sometimes see a child there. You’re not the first.”

The man never forgot that night. And sometimes he still wonders— Was the child trying to save him? Or simply waiting for someone new to join them at the bottom of the sea?

So… what do you think?

In Japan, when someone dies suddenly, often in an accident, their spirit is said to remain at the place of death. That is why, on certain roadsides or back alleys, you may notice flowers carefully placed, quietly fading under the sun and rain.