Yomiyama Family Land was a small, ill-fated amusement park built in 1978 on the northern edge of town, just past the entertainment district. Officially a “family-friendly” attraction with a Ferris wheel, carousel, mini-golf course, and kiddie rides, it was in reality a corrupt money sink funded by politicians from the neighboring city of Takayama.
The city wanted a theme park within an hour’s drive for tourism revenue but refused to have the “eyesore” in their own scenic area. They funneled public funds through shell companies and local intermediaries to build it in remote Yomiyama — far enough to hide the embarrassment, close enough for day trips. Construction was rushed and cheap: thin concrete, second-hand rides from closed parks, garish paint over shoddy work.
Originally named “Takayama Dream Land” during planning, it was hastily rebranded “Yomiyama Family Land” right before opening to shift blame if it failed. It did fail — spectacularly. Low attendance (too remote, bad roads, mine layoffs killing disposable income) meant it limped along until 1984, then closed quietly. Rides were left to rust, tickets unsold, the entrance gate chained. The neighboring city wrote it off as a “rural development loss” and never mentioned it again.
Since the loop began, the park sits abandoned under snow: the Ferris wheel frozen mid-turn, carousel horses with peeling paint staring blankly, mini-golf obstacles half-buried like forgotten tombstones. No staff, no visitors. Snow muffles everything into silence. Locals avoid it; children claim the rides move on their own at night. The faded “Yomiyama Family Land” sign still swings above the gate, letters cracked and peeling.
From the northern road: rusted arch gate with peeling “Family Land” sign, snow-covered ticket booths empty. Ferris wheel looms silent, cabins swaying slightly in wind that isn’t there. Carousel horses stand in perfect circle, paint chipped to bone white. Mini-golf course buried, obstacles like forgotten tombstones. Chain-link fence sagging, red ribbons tied by worried parents fluttering like warnings. At night faint carnival music drifts from nowhere, then cuts off abruptly. Snow is deep and perfect, broken only by small, barefoot prints that lead in but never out.
Rides move on their own at night (Ferris wheel turning slowly, carousel spinning without power).
Child-sized footprints appear leading into the park but never out.
Faint carnival music plays from nowhere at 11:55 p.m., then stops suddenly.
The ticket booth sometimes has fresh tickets printed for dates that haven’t happened yet.
Every year since the park's closure, there have been chilling reports of a tall, emaciated creature on two legs stalking the ruins. Described as over 3 meters high, with elongated limbs, pale skin stretched tight over bones, and a face like a starved deer with too many teeth, it moves with unnatural silence through the trees. One local hiker, @Yamamoto Kōji (山本 浩二) (60, museum janitor), saw it in 1985 during a late-night trek: "It stood on hind legs like a man but bent wrong, antlers twisting into horns. No eyes—just black sockets that pulled at you. It let out a scream like a thousand children dying at once, then vanished into the snow." Kōji claims the scream echoes every December, drawing people in.
Even darker: the original Takayama executives involved in the park's assembly have been found brutally murdered in various locations—one a year since 1984. Throats torn out, bodies drained of blood, arranged in ritualistic poses. The killer is described as an "animal" attack, but Kōji (who found one body in 1986 near the mine) says: "No animal leaves footprints that change from hooves to hands mid-stride." The murders are unsolved, chalked up to wild animals, but locals whisper it's the park's "curse" punishing the corrupt.
The creature is known among some as the Wendigo God @Ithaqua, The Wind-Walker , a rival entity that does not participate in the harvest. It is opportunistic—feeding on the weak and isolated when the town's defenses are low. It does not serve the mountain's hunger; it simply takes what it can, a predator drawn to the chaos of the loop. Some believe it was awakened or drawn closer by the original corruption of the park's founding, but no one knows for sure.