Depending on your frame of mind, a wander down the main street of Niegawajuku could be either endearing, or a nightmare that mashes together the Japanese equivalent of a collaborative art show put on by Leatherface and Annabelle.

The empty streets. The dark pine forests whispering as they press in against the tiny village. The human-sized dolls watching quietly on from old deck chairs, front steps and over fences, many with cloth faces seemingly fashioned in a deliberately misshapen mockery of a conspicuously-absent real human population of the place.

On the morning I strolled into town, I was feeling pretty good about things. Even lugging 20-something kilos of food, water, tent, sleeping bag, snow boots, ice axe and an assortment of other stuff I’d need to stop me from freezing on or falling off the nearby mountain, it was still a beaut day to be out in the Japanese countryside.

I vaguely recalled once reading an article about locals in some obscure Japanese village who liked to sew life-sized dolls. They were sticking them all around the neighbourhood, to represent neighbours who had moved on or passed away. The memory of that article steered my imagination away from scenes of an impending Annabellian chainsaw scenario.

Instead, the dolls gave a charming and welcoming vibe to the place. Some were smiling, others were simply there, chilling on chairs or leaning against walls or doing what their real-life equivalents had presumably done for years.

On my way out of the village, I came upon an ancient man walking his equally ancient-looking dog. He was a friendly bloke, and despite his not speaking English, and my Japanese vocabulary being limited to asking where I can find sake and a toilet, he explained that these dolls were friends who were no longer around.

I’m not sure if the article I’d read previously was about this town, or if propping up faux neighbours along the streets is a common custom in rural Japanese villages. Either way, it made for a heartwarming, if slightly melancholic, stroll through Niegawajuku.