There was a boy, and he was a good story teller.
He and I were in same class, in fourth grade.
After all of the lesson, he told a story to us.
About four or five class mates in class room.
I didn’t want to listen to the story.
His story was a fear story.
After heard the story.
I didn’t go to a toilet for a while.
A hand from the hole of the toilet thing would get me at night.
You know the toilet a long time ago.
Now, we didn’t use it.
肚裡(tori)