Storieo

Tag: Ghost

  • The Unwanted Observer

    The Unwanted Observer

    The cold wind would whisper through my room, as I’d sit on my desk in the after-hours, to study for my final exams. Maybe it was then, maybe it started before, perhaps it was always there. It was a habit for me to study for my exams throughout the night, where everything was silent, while the nocturnal beauty swept throughout. Whilst studying I would always feel someone staring, silently observing, their gaze piercing my back. It felt like someone was breathing heavily as if struggling to draw out every single breath. I would turn back immediately, only to find the narrow, dark hallway beyond my room. I would not pay it much attention and would continue with whatever I was doing. However, as time went on, I started hearing something like footsteps, no, not footsteps, but someone, dragging their feet along the hallway, coming towards my room…  closer, nearer, and right in front of the doorframe, it would stop. Chills.

    One day I found my little brother, changing the light-colored, net curtains that adorned his room’s door, with a thick, deep-colored one.

    Amused, I asked him, “Why the thick, dark curtains? Weren’t you always fond of light, net ones as they brought about an air of carefreeness to you?”

    My brother hesitated. He said, as he gulped, “I don’t want to see whatever roams around at night”.

    Hearing him sent shivers down my spine.

    “So, you experienced it too… ” I said.

    “Yes, and it keeps sighing heavily right in front of my door.”

    Just then a sudden, loud, shattering noise was heard from the hallway. ”Clank!”

    “Did the chandelier fall?” My brother mumbled.

    We ran outside the room. Nothing was there. The chandelier was intact, and so was everything, yet the eeriness of the hallway was palpable. We went to our father right away. At first, we were reluctant, “What if he doesn’t believe us?” We mustered up our courage and we all sat down. As we told our story to him, his expression grew more grim and more dense. Finally, he said, “Yes I experienced it too.”

    “How? What happened?” We asked with dread yet relief.

    Father said, “I would smoke a cigarette in the washroom, I could feel someone walking in the hallway. They would keep dragging their feet. They would take deep breaths riddled with agony. Coming towards the door, and stopping right in front of it. Feeling as if the presence is staring right through the door at me. When I’d open the door, all I could see was the uncanniness of the hallway.”

    Just as he spoke, a very subtle yet intoxicating scent started spreading. Suddenly in the upper lofts of the hallway, loud and random thuds started coming. It was as if a bird or a rat was stuck inside and was going berserk. The sounds were horrifying, to say the least. Deeply unsettled, we went up to the loft. The moment we opened the shutter, everything became dead silent; only to discover that everything was in place.

    Since then, right around 11:15 pm, this occurrence started to take place routinely.

    After a lot of discussion, we dug deep into the history of the house. Ultimately, It was found that the previous to the previous owner had taken his own life in that hallway by hanging himself from that chandelier. He also had a foot defect that made him drag his leg to walk.

    We were stunned. With the dots connecting one by one, from the heavy breathing to the feeling of a person dragging their feet; we organized a solemn Pooja and cleansed the whole house.

    The feelings and occurrences stopped after that. Everything had finally returned to normal. Over time, we all grew and led our lives peacefully.

    Today I am married and have a small child. We visited the house after years. Nostalgia and the bittersweet feelings of childhood flooded through. At night, after a hearty dinner, I turned off the light and sat down in my room.

    “ Thud, thud, thud… ”

    “ Puchki, come here and sleep now my little angel”  I called out to my four-year-old.

    As I turned my back, I saw him…

  • Ghosts

    Ghosts

    Mishaps, accidents, sorrowful incidents – they can't be predicted. But the effects sometimes are so drastic that they leave everything recklessly destroyed. Forever. 

     

    The child was so cute. Dark, bushy hair, blue eyes and chubby cheeks blended in beautifully with his amiable temperament; but not his luck or the surroundings. It was a sight of pity, and the unfairness of God plainly visible, when you did see such a fair, joyous creature wonderfully confined to wheelchair which forced him to spend his days in solitude. He was born crippled and due to this no neighbourhood children (the very few who lived in that small town) ever played with him, as he used to prove useless in any of the games they engaged in.

    Gradually they left him. But that did not mean he was left friendless. He soon found other friends, who perhaps would never leave him, like the stray cats and dogs, the ants and honeybees, the flowers and ivy and even the huge chestnut that grew almost in the center of his unkempt yard. Day in and day out he would talk to them, share all his innocent pleasures with them. He didn’t care if the weather was good or not; he just used to be outside in the most of the time.

    And when it rained, he used to sit by the window, holding a book but his eyes on the yard.

    He lived in this shabby house with his mother, who suffered from some ailment of the gout which could any day take her life. Thus, mother and son lived alone and isolated, with a very little money that with difficulty allowed them three meals a day and the services of a housemaid who cooked and cleaned for them. The boy’s father had been dead five years ago in an accident and all his scanty savings along with that house were all they were left with. Miserably they were continuing, the mother perpetually worried about something or the other, irritable because of her ill health and always kicking up a fuss; and the son too young to understand the hardships of life. He was happy, a happy-go-lucky child, excited in the little joys of life.

    Lately he had been very much fascinated with the yellow mushrooms that were growing beneath the chestnut tree.

    Now, once it so happened that the day had given premonitions of a stormy climate, which turned out to be true and the weather became very bad towards the afternoon. But as usual, the sweet child was staring at the mushrooms, counting all the spots on each on each one of them (which he already knew by heart, but was still at the task, doubtful if any new spots had come up overnight). The sky was growing darker with each passing moment and low thunder and lightning had started accompanying. But all of this didn’t perturb the child at all. Though his mother was shouting for him to get inside again and again, as he had never heeded her before, he didn’t intend to heed her today either. She was feeling all the more bitter today, her ailment was worsening.

    The storm was on the rise. Though it hadn’t started to rain, winds and thunder were howling loud. The child was still intent on his task. Yes, there was a strange kind of flower growing between the mushrooms, which he hadn’t noticed before. Interesting…

                                                           ***

    Everything had turned to ruins – the shabby house, the unkempt yard and even the small iron gate. The grass, ivy and all the greenery that used to make a living there, had been destroyed completely, except for the thick nettles that had choked up a corner of the yard. And at the center was situated the disaster – the huge chestnut tree struck with lightning on that fatal night, burning nearly everything within quarter a mile around it.

    The place was heavily blackened and barren, with a little of the tree remaining. The house too had blackened down. Cobwebs hung all over the scenery like silken tapestries here and there.

    The neighbours called it “the haunted house” now. Nobody likes to venture near it, even during the daytime. Children are strictly forbidden to play in its proximity. Nobody could take the gruesome memories of the day following that stormy night, which took the lives of the sole inhabitants of the house. The boy got burnt along with the tree and the mother’s illness reached its last juncture which had killed her. Heavy rains had followed and continued the rest of the night; hence, it was only in the morning that the housemaid discovered the horrid scene and screamed the place down. The small funeral was a formal, desultory affair on the part of the neighbours.

    Sometimes, God seems to be merciless. But if a different angle is given to thoughts, whatever happened perhaps happened for the best. Death could only end all their sufferings. But no, the child wasn’t suffering – at least not yet. But alas, who could shun his fate?

    The family had a distant uncle, the mother’s cousin, who occasionally visited them and was very fond of the little boy. This very day he was roaming in the neighbourhood and trying to take in the horrible sights. He had come to know of the tragic story only that morning, when he had come on a visit, after two years. The evening was lengthening into night. The man still couldn’t take in the sight, nor afford to leave the place. It would take almost the rest of life to forget the grief.

    Ultimately, he decided to leave. He had to catch a train a short while later. But before going, he decided to go into the ruined house and take a last look. The iron gate had rusted and easily gave way with a lot of noise. His hands got covered with dust added to strands of cobwebs; and his eyes filled with tears. People might think the place to have ghosts, to be haunted; but he didn’t see any ghosts there. All he could see with a blurred vision (because of the tears), was everything resurrected back to normal – the grass was green, the house was shabby but okay and his sister was out, hanging up clothes, the chestnut tree was in full bloom, under which his sweet nephew was playing. They were the only ghosts there. But he wasn’t scared. His eyes were just filling with new tears and he was welling up with emotions.

     

    Image Credit: mercattours.com

  • ​PRICELESS

    ​PRICELESS

    Do you believe in ghosts, curses, or any aspect of the paranormal? Are you a sceptic? Or are you among the ones who have not made up their minds yet whether to believe or not? Well, after reading this story, you will.

     

    “…and it was in this cave where the Queen had King Gavaran beheaded. Legend says that after his death…”

    On and on droned the elderly tourist guide, while David plugged in his earphones and switched on his iPod. David did not believe in such ghost stories, but he could see that they were being eagerly lapped up by his two best friends, Nero and Eric. The three of them had decided to take a break from their hectic college workload. David had suggested that they go hiking for the weekend. But somehow, Eric and Nero had managed to turn this into a project. Figures. What else could he expect from two very dedicated (obsessed) history majors (freaks)? Now he had to listen to this guy blather on about some old King getting whacked because he played with his wife’s handmaiden behind her back.

    Unable to take it any longer, he sighed loudly and interrupted the guide’s monologue. “Guys, how much longer are you going to listen to this bullshit?” Eric quickly shushed him and Nero gasped as though he’d committed a grave sin. The old guide glared at David, and said stiffly, “King Gavaran is one of the oldest legends of this land. People still believe that-”

    David cut him off, “Yeah, well, he’s not still around, is he? Got himself killed for getting on with his wife’s maid? That’s basically the entire story, right? So if you’re done, can we just get out of this creepy place?” The bald old man started spluttering with indignation. Before he could recover, David grabbed Eric and Nero and dragged them from the cave.

    Outside, in the cool mountain air, he cursed at them, “You guys so owe me a hike. I did not come here to listen to that old codger’s stories.”

    Nero, the craziest of the three, said,

    “Dude, you don’t know what you’re saying! These things actually happened, man!”

    Eric calmly said, “There is historical evidence that support the story of King Gavaran. On the other side of the hill, we can see the ruins of his magnificent palace. And on the southern wall outside this cave, there is a hole in which the scorned maiden hid the King’s heart after she cut it out of his dead body.”

    “Say what?” exclaimed David. “Now that is cool! Let’s check it out!”

    He strode over to the southern outer wall of the cave. Amidst the ancient carvings, there was a dark round hole that looked like it could fit a whole fist inside it. Eric and Nero hurried after him. David went to put his hand inside the hole but Nero grabbed his arm before he could do so. Nervously, Nero said, “David, you can’t just put your hand in there. It’s cursed! If you touch the King’s heart, your body will be possessed by the King’s spirit which has been roaming this land for centuries without finding peace!”

    David laughed. “What! You actually believe that stuff? Come on, man! Okay, maybe the part about the King having an affair with the Queen’s maid is true. And MAYBE the Queen had him beheaded when she found out. But you can’t possibly believe that the maid really cut out his heart and put it here just because she was mad at him for ‘seducing her with false adulations of love and empty promises of marriage!’” He finished the sentence dramatically, imitating the old tourist guide. In his normal voice again, he said, “Here, watch, I’ll prove to you that nothing is in there.”

    Again, he went to put his hand inside it. But this time Eric stopped him. He said, “Even if you are right and the stories are false, you still can’t just put your hand inside. Who knows what animal or creature could be holed up in there? You could get bitten or something.”

    Nonchalantly, David said, “Well, then, that will just prove that the stories about the curse are fake.” As Eric watched with trepidation and Nero with terror, David slowly put his hand inside the hole and groped around. There wasn’t much space inside. It was cool and dry. He felt around with his hand, when suddenly, he encountered something warm and squishy.

    “Argghh!” he yelled and ripped his hand out of the hole. He stared in horror at his hand which was now completely covered in red. Nero began shouting, “Oh my freaking God! The curse is real! You’ve been cursed! Aaaah!” He tore down the trail they had used to climb up to the caves, without looking back. David was about ready to run after him, when he was stopped by the sound of laughter.

    Astonished, he turned around to watch Eric doubled over, laughing. Had he just been pranked?

    “You- you did thi- you were behind this?” he asked incredulously.

    “The look on your face!” Eric said, still laughing. “And Nero’s! Oh man, that was priceless! I should’ve taken photos!”

    David slowed his rapidly beating heart and looked at his hand again. “You know I’m gonna get you back for this,” he warned Eric. “What is this? Is this ketchup?” he scrunched up his nose, trying to smell it.

    “Yeah!” Eric said, finally managing to control his laughter. “I put it in there before I told you about the hole because I knew you’d want to show off that you don’t believe in legends.”

    David sniffed his hand. Weird. It didn’t smell like ketchup. This smell had a more metallic tang to it. He held up his hand for Eric to smell.

    “Dude, I’m telling you-” Eric started. David interrupted him shakily, “Does this smell like ketchup to you?”

    Eric took a sniff and the blood drained out of his face, confirming David’s suspicions. With hearts pounding again, both of them slowly turned around to look at the hole.

    Thick black mist was coming out of the fist-sized hole.

    Eric and David whipped around and raced down the trail after Nero, yelling, “The ghost is after us!”

    If they had stayed behind for a little while, they would have noticed the black mist just drifting off into the air like smoke from a chimney.

    Just a few feet away, from the entrance to the cave, a bald head slowly peeked out. Looking at the students fleeing in the distance, the old guide emerged fully from the cave. He stood there watching the smoke being blown away in the breeze, and snickered.

    “Suckers.”