Jangsanbeom - The White‑Furred Thing That Crawled Toward Me Using My Own Voice
That day, I went to Jangsan with my father.
It wasn’t a serious hike—
just a weekend walk with a bottle of water, resting halfway, then coming back down.
The problem started on the way down.
My father stepped off the trail for a moment, saying he needed the bathroom.
I sat on a bench beside the path and waited.
People kept passing by—
a middle‑aged couple, a man walking his dog, elderly hikers in tracksuits.
Nothing felt scary.
Then suddenly, no one passed.
The mountain path went quiet.
Even the birds stopped.
At first, I thought I was just being sensitive.
I checked my phone, but the signal was strangely weak.
Then I heard my mother’s voice from inside the forest.
“Seon‑woo.”
I looked up immediately.
My mother was at home that day.
Only my father had come with me.
But the voice was unmistakably hers—
the exact tone she used when calling me.
“Seon‑woo, come here.”
I almost answered.
Really—
my mouth opened on its own.
Then a thought hit me:
Why am I about to answer? Mom isn’t here.
I stayed seated.
The voice came again from the forest.
“Why aren’t you answering?”
It was my mother’s voice, but… wrong.
Too perfect.
Like a recording—
the emotion lagged by half a beat.
I called out,
“Dad?”
No answer.
Then my father’s voic