u/Alarmed_Stretch_1361

​

The rain was pouring relentlessly. Water had flooded every road and field.

In villages, power cuts happen very quickly during heavy rain. Darkness had completely taken over the surroundings.

I had left the office late that evening. I had only recently started my new job, so my longing to visit my village was still strong. Every Friday, I traveled back home and spent Saturday and Sunday with my parents. I knew they would be waiting for me.

Unfortunately, I had missed the last state transport bus.

Luckily, a truck driver gave me a lift to the highway. But after that... there was nothing.

No vehicles.

No people.

No lights.

Villagers usually go to bed early, so the roads were completely deserted.

It felt like a challenge just to get home.

A powerful wind began to blow.

Suddenly...

CRACK!

A huge banyan tree crashed onto the road right in front of me.

My heart skipped a beat.

The rain became even heavier.

My clothes were completely soaked, and I was shivering from the cold.

Just then...

Far away, I noticed two dim yellow headlights approaching through the rain.

A car was speeding toward me.

I raised my hand.

The car slowed down and stopped in front of me.

The driver's window rolled down.

The man inside looked at me with an unusual expression and asked,

"Where are you going?"

"I need to get to my village."

Without saying another word, he replied,

"Get in."

I sat in the back seat.

Inside the car, there was a strange smell.

It wasn't the scent of wet earth...

It smelled like something rotten.

The driver remained silent throughout the journey.

I tried talking to him a few times, but he simply stared at me through the rearview mirror.

As we continued, I noticed something strange.

The car was moving unbelievably fast...

Yet I couldn't hear the sound of the tires.

Even on the muddy road, the car never slipped.

When we reached the entrance to my village, the driver suddenly hit the brakes.

"Your village is straight ahead from here," he said.

I stepped out.

The rain continued to pour heavily.

I started walking toward the village while the car drove away.

A few moments later, I noticed another car crushed beneath a fallen tree.

My blood ran cold.

It was the very same car I had just ridden in.

The same driver lay inside...

Covered in blood.

I quickly turned around.

But...

There was nothing behind me.

No car.

No driver.

I ran toward the village as fast as I could to call for help.

When I looked back once again...

Everything had disappeared.

The car...

The driver...

Gone.

Terrified, I finally reached home.

My mother opened the door and hugged me tightly.

I couldn't tell her what had happened.

The next morning, I was sitting at the village tea stall.

A group of villagers was discussing a tragic accident.

"Hasn't it been eight days since that driver died?" one of them said.

I froze.

"Which driver?" I asked.

One of the men showed me a photograph.

The tea cup slipped from my hand and shattered on the ground.

It was him.

The same face.

The same driver who had dropped me home the previous night.

The villagers explained that eight days earlier, he had died in a horrific accident on that very highway.

His car had crashed into a huge banyan tree and was completely destroyed.

He had died instantly.

My voice trembled as I asked,

"The banyan tree...?"

An old man looked at me and quietly replied,

"He was trapped beneath that tree and suffered terribly before he died."

Then he lowered his voice.

"They say that on stormy nights... he still roams that highway, searching for one last passenger."

From that day on...

I never dared to travel alone on that road at night again.

Because...

Even today...

During heavy rain...

People still claim to see a lonely car gliding silently along the highway...

Its wheels never touching the ground.

The End

​

It was raining heavily when four of my friends, two of our female friends, and I decided to visit a hill station. The weather was freezing, the wind was fierce, and we were completely soaked. Despite the rain, we were having an amazing time—eating snacks, laughing, and enjoying the breathtaking waterfall in front of us. Below us stretched a deep valley.

As we stood there sipping Coke, something strange happened.

Out of nowhere, a handkerchief floated up from the deep valley, carried by the strong wind.

It was black with pink flowers.

Everyone tried to catch it, but somehow it landed right in my hands.

Laughing, we took it back with us to the hotel.

By the time we returned, everyone was exhausted. The girls went to their room while we stayed in ours. I started shivering badly and developed a high fever from getting drenched in the rain. Assuming it was nothing serious, I took a Crocin tablet and went to bed. One by one, everyone fell asleep while scrolling through social media.

Around 2:15 a.m.

Knock... Knock... Knock...

The sound came from our door.

Everyone else was asleep. I was the only one awake.

"Who's there?" I asked.

No answer.

Again...

Knock... Knock... Knock...

Fighting my fever, I slowly walked to the door.

Then it hit me.

We were in an unfamiliar place.

No one we knew would come here at this hour.

Our female friends were staying in the next room. If there had been an emergency, they would have called or texted us.

I checked my phone.

There were no messages.

Still, I sent them a WhatsApp message:

"Someone is knocking on our door. Don't open yours."

The knocking continued.

Knock... Knock... Knock...

I refused to open the door.

A few seconds later, my phone vibrated.

It was a message from the girls.

"Don't open the door! We secretly looked through the window... There's a headless woman standing outside your room. We're terrified."

A chill ran down my spine.

I quietly woke my friends and showed them the message.

No one dared to make a sound.

For over an hour...

Knock... Knock... Knock...

The knocking never stopped.

Finally, around 3:30 a.m., the knocking suddenly ended.

Another message arrived.

"The headless woman has gone... but don't open the door."

My fever became even worse.

None of us slept again.

As soon as the sun rose, we packed our bags and decided to leave immediately.

Before checking out, we told the hotel manager everything that had happened.

He looked disturbed.

"I've never heard of anything like this happening here," he said. "There's a dargah a short distance from here. An old holy man stays there. Go and meet him."

With no other option, we drove there.

The old man sat silently with his eyes closed.

After listening carefully, he finally spoke.

"Years ago, a terrible accident happened in the valley. A woman died there after her head was severed. Her restless spirit still wanders that place."

Then he asked,

"Did you bring back anything from the valley?"

I hesitated.

"Yes... a black handkerchief with pink flowers."

The old man sighed.

"Never take objects you find in unknown places. They don't always belong to the living."

He asked me to hand him the handkerchief.

He performed a cleansing ritual with a lemon, tied a protective talisman around my wrist, sprinkled holy water on us, and returned the handkerchief.

Then he instructed us to stop near the valley before leaving.

As evening approached, we reached the same spot.

Following his instructions, we placed the handkerchief beside a small offering of curd rice.

Without looking back, we hurried into the car.

Darkness was beginning to fall.

The atmosphere felt unnaturally silent.

Our car sped down the road.

Then...

The headlights illuminated a figure walking slowly in front of us.

A headless woman.

Everything inside us froze.

For a few terrifying seconds, we believed it was over.

Remembering the old man's instructions, we rolled down the windows and blew the sacred ash he had given us toward her.

The moment the ash touched the air...

She vanished.

Completely.

We drove away at full speed and reached our homes safely.

When I told my mother everything, she performed another traditional protection ritual.

From that day onward, none of us ever experienced anything supernatural again.

But one lesson has stayed with me forever...

Never pick up objects you find in strange or unfamiliar places.

The next one may not let you go.

​

Fear is born the moment silence inside a home is broken.

When Vinayak moved into an old mansion in Pune's historic Peth area with his wife, Mrunmayi, and their six-year-old daughter, Isha, he never imagined that silence itself could become terrifying.

The mansion was spacious, but its weathered walls carried centuries of forgotten history.

For the first few days, everything seemed perfectly normal.

Then came a stormy night during the holy month of Shravan.

At around 2:00 a.m., Vinayak suddenly woke to a strange sound.

Chhum... Chhum... Chhum...

It was the unmistakable sound of anklets echoing across the empty attic.

At first, he assumed it was rats.

But rats don't wear anklets.

The footsteps were slow, heavy, and deliberate, as though someone was walking back and forth.

He tried waking Mrunmayi, but she remained fast asleep.

Gathering his courage, he picked up a flashlight and climbed to the attic.

The moment he reached the top...

The sound stopped.

Only rows of dusty wooden cupboards stood before him.

Nothing else.

The following afternoon, while Mrunmayi was cooking, she heard someone laughing near the old well in the backyard.

It was a deep, unsettling laugh that seemed almost inhuman.

She rushed outside.

No one was there.

But on the wet ground were fresh footprints...

Leading from the well all the way to the front door.

The third night was even worse.

Isha was sleeping peacefully in her room when the loud clinking of anklets suddenly erupted.

It sounded as if someone was dancing wildly inside the room.

Vinayak and Mrunmayi ran toward her.

Isha was still asleep.

But the sound was coming from beneath her bed.

Vinayak slowly knelt down and looked underneath.

Nothing.

Yet two human footprints had appeared in the dust beneath the bed.

Without warning, every light in the mansion began to flicker.

The walls started dripping with moisture.

But it wasn't water.

It looked like sweat.

A strong scent of ancient perfume filled the air.

Then the old gramophone in the living room began playing by itself.

There were no lyrics.

Only the heartbreaking sobs of a woman crying in endless sorrow.

Unable to bear it any longer, Vinayak shouted,

"Who's there? What do you want?"

Everything fell silent.

Then he felt an icy breath against his ear.

A whisper answered...

"How much longer will you keep me trapped inside this room?"

At that very moment, every photograph hanging on the walls turned upside down.

Vinayak realized the mansion was not empty.

Something unseen had been living there all along.

Without looking back, he grabbed Mrunmayi and Isha and fled into the pouring rain.

Even today, the mansion stands abandoned.

People who pass by late at night still claim they can hear the haunting sound of anklets echoing from an empty room...

Along with the distant cries of a grieving woman.

Local legend says that centuries ago, a gifted dancer named Kalindi was sealed alive inside one of the mansion's walls.

Perhaps...

Her restless feet are still searching for the freedom they were never given.