Gamdori

[True Scary Story] The Boy I Met at My

Grandmother's Country House – "Gamdori"

Have you ever had a place in the countryside that frightened you for reasons you couldn't explain?

Today, I'd like to share a chilling experience from my childhood that has stayed with me for decades. It happened when I was in second grade, spending my summer vacation at my grandmother's house in a quiet rural village.

The elders in that village always warned us never to call one particular name.

That name was "Gamdori."

1. The Boy Beneath the Persimmon Tree

During the summer break, I spent nearly two months at my grandmother's house.

Behind her home stood a huge old persimmon tree. It was the largest tree in the entire village, yet my grandmother never allowed me to go near it.

"Don't wander around that tree," she would always say.

"And never go there after sunset."

As a child, I assumed she was worried about snakes or insects.

One evening, while I was playing alone in the yard, I noticed a boy standing quietly beneath the shade of the tree beyond the fence.

He looked about my age.

His clothes were old and worn, and he simply stared at me without saying a word.

Happy to finally find someone to play with, I walked over.

"Who are you? Do you live here?"

The boy didn't answer.

"What's your name?"

After several long seconds of silence, he finally whispered,

"...Gamdori."

For some reason, hearing that name sent a strange chill through my body.

2. The Boy Who Appeared Every Evening

After that day, Gamdori appeared almost every evening just before sunset.

There were many strange things about him.

He always stood in the shadows.

Even during the hottest days of summer, he never seemed to sweat.

Whenever I asked him questions, he answered with only a word or two.

Still, with no children my age in the village, I quickly became friends with him.

We played games in the dirt, folded paper, and spent hours together.

Yet every evening, just before darkness fell, he would always say the same words.

"I have to go now."

Then he would disappear behind the old persimmon tree.

About a week passed like this.

3. My Grandmother's Scream

One evening, dark storm clouds covered the sky, and heavy rain poured over the village.

As I watched the rain from inside the house, I suddenly froze.

Gamdori was no longer standing by the tree.

He was walking through the rain toward the wooden porch.

He stopped only a few steps away and slowly raised one hand.

"Come play with me."

Something was different.

His face was expressionless, but his eyes were fixed on me with an unsettling stare.

Without thinking, I stepped toward the porch.

At that exact moment, my grandmother entered carrying dinner.

The instant she looked outside, the tray slipped from her hands and crashed onto the floor.

"Gamdori! Get away from my grandchild!"

She grabbed a handful of salt and threw it into the yard before rushing outside with a wooden stick.

What happened next made no sense.

I could still see Gamdori standing there.

But every swing of my grandmother's stick passed straight through empty air.

Gamdori slowly smiled.

His smile twisted unnaturally.

Then, little by little, his figure faded into the darkness surrounding the old persimmon tree until he vanished completely.

4. The Forgotten Child

My grandmother held me tightly as her hands trembled.

Later that night, the village chief and a local shaman came to the house.

That was when I learned the truth.

More than forty years earlier, a poor family had lived there.

Their young son had climbed the persimmon tree to pick fruit because there wasn't enough food.

He fell from the tree and died.

The child had never even been given a proper name.

People simply called him Gamdori, meaning "the boy from the persimmon tree."

The shaman looked at me with a heavy sigh.

"You were very lucky."

He paused before speaking again.

"He learned your name... and you called his."

"When the living acknowledge the dead by name, sometimes the dead try to take them along."

No one spoke another word.

The entire room fell silent.

Ending

That very night, my grandmother and the shaman performed a small ritual to comfort the child's spirit.

The next morning, the villagers cut down the old persimmon tree.

After that day, I never saw Gamdori again.

Even now, whenever I pass an old persimmon tree at dusk, I sometimes feel as though I can still hear that quiet voice whispering beside me.

"Come play with me."

Whether you believe this story or not is entirely up to you.

But if you ever find yourself in an old village at sunset, and a lonely child asks for your name—or asks you to follow them—

I hope you'll think twice before answering.