The shining, cold winter night wrapped the dense forest in a crisp, unyielding silence. High above, the sky stretched out like a vast sheet of black velvet, densely packed with thousands of twinkling stars that offered no warmth to the earth below. Deep within this isolated wilderness, tucked away between towering pines and ancient oaks, stood a rustic wooden hut.
Outside the structure, a large bonfire roared, its orange and yellow flames dancing wildly against the shadows of the night. Four women sat in a tight circle near the hearth, their faces illuminated by the flickering glow. Each face bore the distinct lines of an untold story, weathered by time and carrying a quiet weight.
As the icy wind howled through the barren branches, a heavy stillness spread far and wide over the landscape. Shalini shivered slightly, adjusting the thick wool shawl draped over her shoulders as she looked around at her companions.
“This cold feels like it is entering our very bones,” Shalini muttered, leaning closer to the heat. “It was a good thing we lit this fire, otherwise we would have frozen out here.”
She paused, watching the sparks fly up into the dark canopy before a faint smile touched her lips.
“The cold is strong, but this weather is actually perfect for listening to horror stories,” she continued, her voice dropping to an intriguing whisper. “Why don’t we tell some interesting stories? Yes, but they should be scary—so scary that it gives us goosebumps.”
Before anyone could answer, the sharp, distinct sound of footsteps crunching on the rocky forest path echoed through the trees. All four women instantly became alert, their eyes darting toward the edge of the darkness.
“What kind of sound was that?” one of them whispered, her body freezing in place.
From the shadows beyond the firelight, a young girl appeared, carrying a heavy backpack on her shoulders. She wore a thick winter jacket, but she was trembling violently from the freezing cold as she approached the safety of the hut.
“Excuse me,” the girl said, her voice shaking as she held her arms tightly around herself. “I lost my way while heading to my destination. Can I stay here with you for a while?”
Shalini looked at the shivering stranger and gestured warmly toward the empty space by the fire.
“Come sit,” Shalini said with a soft, knowing smile. “Everyone here has stopped to understand their final destination anyway. Sit comfortably and warm yourself near the fire.”
The girl let out a sigh of relief, carefully dropping her heavy backpack to the ground as she moved closer to the roaring flames.
“Thank you so much,” she said, exhaling a puff of white mist into the air. “By the way, my name is Angeline.”
One by one, the other women introduced themselves, their gentle tones helping to break the tension that had gripped the camp. Seeing Angeline settling in safely, the atmosphere around the bonfire became a little more relaxed.
“So, who will tell the story first?” Shalini asked, looking around the circle with an eager glint in her eyes.
Angeline looked up, rubbing her numb hands together over the heat of the fire.
“What kind of stories are you guys telling?” Angeline asked curiously.
“Everyone here is telling horror stories,” Shalini replied, leaning forward. “You won’t be scared, right?”
Angeline shook her head, a small smile appearing on her face.
“No, I will enjoy it,” Angeline said confidently. “I absolutely love listening to scary stories.”
Shalini chuckled softly, though there was a strange, deep intensity in her gaze as she locked eyes with the newcomer.
“Look at you, sitting with four completely unknown women in the dark night, listening to horror stories,” Shalini remarked. “Aren’t you scared at all?”
“Not at all,” Angeline replied, her curiosity getting the better of her. “I am actually so excited.”
Shalini nodded slowly, the sparkle in her eyes growing brighter as the fire crackled loudly between them.
“Then I will tell the first story,” Shalini said, her voice turning solemn. “This is not just a made-up story, Angeline. It feels like absolute reality because I am a witness to it myself. After hearing this, you may not believe it, but it is the absolute truth.”
She took a deep breath, letting the crackling of the logs fill the brief silence before she began.
“This is the story of Ajay and Ankita,” Shalini began, staring deeply into the embers. “In the middle of a bustling city, there was a large, beautiful house. Ajay and Ankita lived there, and they were happily spending their married life together, blessed with everything wealth could buy. They had every happiness in the world, but one major thing was missing from their lives. They did not have a child, and because of this empty void, both of them were always carrying a deep sadness in their hearts.”
As the years passed by, the silence in the large house grew heavier, and Ankita slowly sank deeper and deeper into a profound sorrow.
“Ajay, it has been six years since our marriage,” Ankita wept one evening, burying her face in her hands. “I keep hoping and praying every single day, but how long will I have to bear this terrible pain?”
Ajay sat beside her, gently rubbing her back to comfort her, though his own face was worn with exhaustion.
“Ankita, I have told you everything will be fine,” Ajay said softly, trying to sound reassuring. “Even the doctor explicitly said it will just take some more time.”
Ankita pulled away, looking at him with eyes full of desperation and tears.
“We have been visiting different doctors for so long, but nothing has happened,” Ankita said sharply. “We must try something different now.”
One afternoon, after speaking with an old acquaintance, Ankita told Ajay about a powerful tantric living on the outskirts of the city who could supposedly help them conceive a child. Ajay refused at first, completely dismissing the idea as dangerous superstition, but eventually, he gave in to her relentless stubbornness.
The couple traveled to a desolate, overgrown area where the tantric lived in a lonely, dilapidated hut. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of burning herbs and incense, and the tantric sat cross-legged, continuously chanting low, guttural mantras.
Strange, twisted drawings and real human skulls hung from the dark wooden walls, casting terrifying shadows in the dim light. Ajay and Ankita nervously approached the holy man and explained their painful problem in great detail.
After listening intently to their story, the tantric opened his dark eyes and spoke in a deeply serious, booming voice.
“You do have a child in your fate,” the tantric said, staring directly into Ankita’s desperate eyes. “But the path to getting that child is incredibly difficult. You will have to sacrifice a living woman. Her soul will then be forced to be born as your child.”
Ajay and Ankita looked at each other, completely shocked and deeply confused by the horrific demand. But Ankita’s desire had consumed her entirely, and she quickly convinced her hesitant husband, ready to do absolutely anything for a baby.
“Ajay, if this is truly our very last option, we must do it,” Ankita pleaded frantically when they returned home. “Can’t you do this one thing for me? Don’t you want an heir for our family?”
Ajay paced the room, his hands shaking as he gripped his hair.
“I want a child more than anything, Ankita,” Ajay stammered. “But killing an innocent person? Ajay is not a murderer.”
Ankita grabbed his hands, staring at him with a fierce, unbreakable gaze.
“Please swear on my love, Ajay,” Ankita begged. “Let us just try this once. I am absolutely sure we will succeed.”
Ajay looked at his wife’s weeping face and finally let out a defeated sigh.
“Okay,” Ajay whispered, his voice trembling. “If you truly believe in it, I will support you.”
They desperately needed a woman for the dark sacrifice, but they knew they could not just target anyone whose sudden disappearance would raise immediate suspicion from the police. They had to act incredibly fast before the designated astrological alignment passed.
Unwillingly, they turned their attention to the forgotten corners of the city’s red-light district, seeking out a prostitute. There, they found a quiet woman named Leela, who lived in a run-down brothel in a completely deserted part of the town.
Leela wore very simple, faded clothes, but her striking natural beauty and gentle demeanor could not be hidden by her poor surroundings. When Ajay and Ankita approached her room privately, offering a large sum of cash, Leela looked at them with caution.
“What do you want from me?” Leela asked, her voice tinged with weariness.
Ankita stepped forward, grabbing Leela’s hands with an artificial warmth.
“We need your help,” Ankita said quickly. “In return for your assistance, you will get a lot of money.”
Leela looked down at the floor, a bitter smile touching her lips.
“More than money, I just want a normal, peaceful life,” Leela sighed. “But I already know that is not written in my fate.”
Ankita squeezed her hands tighter, tears welling up in her eyes as she played her part perfectly.
“We will help you get whatever you want in life, but please help us first,” Ankita cried. “My womb has been completely empty for years. This is our last chance. You will just have to give birth to my child, and I will never forget your favor.”
Leela looked at the desperate woman, her heart softening at the thought of helping another person escape sorrow.
“All right,” Leela whispered softly. “I agree to help you.”
They lied to Leela completely, preparing her for the upcoming night by claiming it was just a harmless spiritual ritual for childbirth. They drove her out to the dark forest and brought her into the tantric’s hidden hut.
The tantric immediately began chanting his dark incantations, throwing mysterious powders into a small fire pit. Leela sat quietly in a corner of the hut, but as the hours passed, she felt a terrible weight in the air and knew something was deeply wrong.
Fear was clearly visible in her wide eyes as she watched the candle flames suddenly become incredibly dim. The tantric raised his voice, shouting his mantras as a powerful, unnatural wind started blowing through the cracks of the hut.
Objects began falling off the shelves and shattering on the ground, creating a chaotic, terrifying din. Leela panicked, her instincts screaming at her that she was in grave danger.
“It is time for the sacrifice!” the tantric yelled over the wind. “Bring her to the altar now!”
Hearing those horrific words, Leela scrambled to her feet and tried to run toward the heavy wooden door. But Ankita moved with shocking speed, grabbing Leela by her hair and dragging her forcefully toward the roaring fire.
Ankita had turned entirely cruel, completely blinded by her desperate desire to become a mother.
“You are doing something terrible!” Leela screamed, struggling against her grip. “You lied to me!”
Ankita threw her down near the altar, her face contorted with malice.
“Stay quiet!” Ankita hissed. “People like you don’t deserve to live anyway. You are getting a rare chance to do something good with your useless life.”
Leela struggled wildly for her survival, her nails scratching deeply into Ankita’s hand, causing it to tear and bleed.
“Ajay, help me!” Ankita shrieked, holding the crying woman down.
Ajay ran forward to help, and together, the married couple pinned Leela’s limbs securely to the wooden floor. The tantric chanted his final, booming mantra and struck a heavy ritual dagger directly into Leela’s chest.
Suddenly, a blinding, bluish light erupted from the wound, and Leela’s soul visibly came pouring out of her eyes and mouth. The glowing mist hovered in the air for a second before moving aggressively toward Ankita.
Ankita screamed in pure terror, her body shaking violently.
“What is happening? The soul is coming directly toward me!” Ankita yelled before collapsing into darkness.
When Ankita finally woke up, she found herself lying comfortably on her own bed in her big city house. Ajay was sitting quietly beside her, his face pale and covered in sweat, but he forced a relieved smile when she opened her eyes.
“Everything is fine now, darling,” Ajay whispered, kissing her forehead. “I paid the tantric his money, and I completely disposed of Leela’s body in the river. I thought I lost you for a moment.”
Ajay hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder as he wept with relief.
“I am perfectly fine now, my dear husband,” Ankita said, her voice sounding subtly different, smoother and colder. “We will always be together from now on.”
Over Ajay’s shoulder, the woman smiled a strange, chilling smile. Her eyes were fixed entirely on the ghostly spirit of the real Ankita, who was standing trapped and weeping silently in the corner of the room.
That fateful night, Leela’s vengeful soul had successfully taken over Ankita’s physical body, and the real Ankita had died instantly, forced out of her own flesh.
The women around the campfire sat in stunned silence as Shalini finished her tale, the wind whistling loudly through the trees. Angeline swallowed hard, staring at Shalini with wide, frightened eyes.
“How do you know this story in such perfect detail?” Angeline asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Shalini looked up from the fire, a hollow, lifeless expression taking over her features.
“Yes, I am that real Ankita,” Shalini said smoothly. “Now wandering endlessly through the dark as a lost soul. My physical body was stolen from me, and Leela is currently living my wealthy life.”
The second woman sitting by the fire, whose name was Meera, let out a deep, sorrowful sigh and reached out to pat Shalini’s hand.
“What happened to you was very wrong,” Meera said softly. “But what can we really do? The living world is cruel like this.”
Meera then turned her gaze toward the third woman, a quiet villager named Radha, who had been staring intensely into the flames the entire time.
“Has something like this ever happened to you, Radha?” Meera asked gently.
Radha nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping under the weight of a terrible memory.
“Yes,” Radha replied, her voice filled with a lingering dread. “But it happened to me in a very different, agonizing way.”
Angeline leaned forward, completely captivated by the eerie atmosphere of the forest.
“What happened to you?” Angeline asked.
“I was married exactly a year ago to a young boy from Tamba village,” Radha began, her voice trembling slightly. “Tamba is a small, isolated tribal village known deep in the mountains for its ancient, rigid traditions. I was a modern city girl, entirely unaware of all these dark customs before I moved there.”
After the wedding, when she finally reached the remote village, she found their daily rituals to be incredibly bizarre and unsettling.
“The most frightening ritual they practiced was called the Danka,” Radha explained, her eyes wide with remembered terror. “According to the elders, when a village woman becomes pregnant, a sacred drum must be played continuously for nine months to avoid a terrible, ancient curse.”
When Radha first heard about the custom, she laughed it off carelessly, thinking it was just a silly, outdated superstition.
“But then, strange things started happening to me,” Radha continued. “I began to feel like someone was standing right outside my bedroom window at night, watching me sleep. I started having horrific, bloody dreams every time I closed my eyes.”
One terrifying morning, she even discovered fresh, wet bloodstains splattered on the floor right near her side of the bed. She got incredibly scared, but out of fear of being judged by her new family, she decided to tell absolutely no one about it.
As the weeks went by, Radha’s physical health rapidly worsened, and she became pale, nauseous, and constantly exhausted. Her concerned husband finally took her to see the old village midwife, who lived in a secluded hut at the edge of the woods.
The midwife examined Radha thoroughly, her wrinkled face turning incredibly pale as she finished her assessment.
“You are already three months pregnant,” the midwife announced gravely.
Radha gasped, looking at her husband in complete shock.
“How could I not know that I am three months along?” Radha asked, bewildered.
The midwife shook her head, her eyes filled with pity and fear.
“That is exactly the problem,” the midwife whispered. “The ancient curse has already awakened inside you.”
The old woman then revealed the dark history of Tamba village, telling Radha about a pregnant woman who had been brutally killed by the villagers long ago. Before she died, the woman cursed the land, declaring that no pregnant woman would ever be allowed to safely give birth.
The only way to calm her angry spirit was a horrific ritual involving a sacred drum made entirely from a pregnant woman’s skin. The drum had to be played every single new moon to keep the spirit asleep.
“Since the drum was not played for the first three months of your pregnancy, the curse has fully awakened,” the midwife warned. “Saving you and your unborn child now will be very difficult.”
Terrible fear filled Radha’s eyes, and she felt completely frozen where she sat.
“Was there truly no happy future for me or my innocent baby?” Radha asked the campfire, her eyes welling with tears. “I did not want to believe it at first, but the strange occurrences around the house only continued to intensify.”
One night, as she lay awake in the dark, she distinctly felt a cold, invisible hand pressing down heavily on her stomach.
“That was only the horrifying beginning,” Radha whispered. “The dark shadow of the curse had successfully started taking absolute control over my body and my unborn child.”
After that night, absolute terror surrounded her completely, and she could no longer deny the danger she was in. She and her husband went to the village elders and decided to immediately start the rhythmic drum ritual to save the baby.
“I did not know that this desperate decision would actually make things even worse for us,” Radha said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “The intense ritual officially began on the very next new moon day.”
When the heavy wooden drum was beaten for the first time, echoing through the valley, Radha felt a slight wave of physical relief. She allowed herself to hope that maybe this ancient method would actually work to protect her child.
“But that peace did not last for long,” Radha said, her voice dropping an octave. “That very night, I saw the exact same dark shadow again in my dreams.”
In the dream, the entity slowly walked closer to her bedside, its face hidden in darkness, and spoke in an angry, distorted voice. It told her that the sound of the village drum would no longer affect its power.
The spirit warned Radha to be ready to suffer immensely for ignoring its presence during the first three months of her pregnancy.
“After that night, everything started becoming rapidly worse,” Radha said, her body shaking at the memory. “Even though the drum kept ringing through the village day and night, I began to feel a sharp, stabbing pain in my stomach every single night.”
Her dreams became significantly more frightening, morphing into vivid nightmares of mutilation and sorrow.
“Sometimes I felt as if my child was screaming in pure agony inside my womb,” Radha cried out softly. “Sometimes it literally felt like the baby was being forcibly ripped apart from my body.”
As the months slowly passed by, her physical pain kept increasing until it became completely unbearable. By the seventh month, Radha had become so weak and emaciated that she could barely stand up or walk across the room.
“It felt like it was already far too late to save us,” Radha said. “Ringing that cursed drum was only making the spirit angrier and more aggressive.”
In the eighth month, her physical condition worsened to a point that horrified her husband and the village midwife.
“Strange, deep marks started appearing all over my skin,” Radha whispered, pulling back her sleeve slightly. “It looked as if someone had dug long, sharp fingernails deep into my stomach.”
Every single night, she felt an entity inside her womb, pulling and tearing at her internal organs. She screamed for help until her throat was raw, but no one in the village was able to do anything to stop the supernatural assault.
“As soon as the dreaded ninth month began, I knew in my heart that my life was about to end,” Radha said, staring blankly into the forest. “One night, the sound of the village drum suddenly became incredibly loud and chaotic.”
The villagers got so utterly terrified by the unnatural, roaring sound of the drum that they locked themselves securely inside their homes, refusing to come out. Radha was lying helpless on her bed when suddenly her entire body felt completely frozen, paralyzed by an unseen force.
“The pain in my stomach was so unbearable that I could not even open my mouth to scream,” Radha said. “Then, a cold voice echoed in the room, telling me that by ringing the drum, the villagers had only made the spirit more powerful.”
The entity told her that the end of her and her child had finally arrived, and that the curse of Tamba village would never be broken.
“I begged the entity with folded hands, crying out to spare my baby,” Radha wept openly now. “I told it that I had done nothing wrong, that I was an outsider who knew nothing of the traditions.”
She kept begging for forgiveness, but the cold voice simply replied that forgiveness had been asked of it once before, when it was killed along with its own child. At that time, the village had shown absolutely no mercy.
The spirit told Radha that a modern city girl could never truly understand the agonizing depth of its eternal pain.
“I replied that I understood its suffering, and that I was truly sorry for what the ancestors had done,” Radha said. “But I begged it to realize that my child was innocent. I told it to take its revenge on me instead.”
But the vengeful spirit completely refused to listen to her desperate, maternal cries.
“Suddenly, a strong gust of wind slammed through the windows and lifted my entire body right off the bed,” Radha said, her voice trembling violently. “My suffering increased tenfold, and I was left completely helpless in mid-air.”
It felt as though the child inside her womb no longer belonged to her, but had been claimed by the witch, tearing her apart from the inside out.
“That horrific night, I lost my child,” Radha whispered, her voice cracking. “And shortly after that, my own breath stopped. The curse had successfully completed its bloody task.”
Everyone remained completely silent after hearing Radha’s heartbreaking story, the only sound being the crackling of the logs. Meera shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with deep sympathy for the dead girl.
“That story is extremely painful,” Meera said quietly. “Because of old traditions and blind beliefs, innocent people just keep losing their lives.”
Shalini reached over, gently comforting Radha and asking her to stop crying.
“We are all together now, Radha,” Shalini said softly. “We are finally free from that painful, cruel world of the living.”
After a few moments of quiet reflection, Meera looked up at Angeline and the rest of the group, a serious expression on her face.
“Since we are sharing,” Meera said, her tone shifting. “I also want to tell a story. This story is about a young girl named Priya.”
Priya was from a very small, traditional village in the state of Maharashtra, and she had never seen the bustling world outside her rural community. When she finally turned twenty years old, her arranged marriage was fixed with a young boy who lived and worked in the massive city of Mumbai.
“He lived in a small chawl,” Meera explained. “A crowded apartment complex where everyone stayed close together like one big family. Her wedding was held in a rented hall right near the chawl, which is why almost all the residents attended the celebration.”
After all the long wedding rituals were completed, the guests and family members started returning home in a joyful procession. But when the wedding party finally reached the entrance of the chawl, they saw a flashing ambulance standing outside, surrounded by a massive, chaotic crowd.
The joyful procession immediately slowed down as the atmosphere turned tense. Priya became incredibly worried, looking out from her veil.
“Why are so many people gathered out there?” Priya asked her new husband nervously. “And why is there an ambulance parked outside?”
Her husband looked out, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“I don’t know,” he replied, trying to calm her down. “An accident must have happened. Don’t worry about it, let’s just go inside.”
As the wedding procession carefully pushed through the gate of the chawl, they saw a dead body wrapped in a stark white sheet being carried out through the crowd. Four local men were carrying the stretcher, and one pale hand was hanging limply outside the sheet.
There was a complete, eerie silence all around the courtyard, and an uneasy, chilling feeling filled the thick air.
“Who is that?” Priya asked a nearby neighbor. “What happened here?”
“Don’t look at it,” the neighbor whispered hurriedly. “Just keep walking inside.”
But Priya’s eyes were completely fixed on the covered body as it was carried past her. As the stretcher passed close by, a sudden, violent gust of wind blew through the courtyard, catching the corner of the white sheet and flipping it away.
The bloody face of the dead woman became completely visible to everyone standing there. Her face was covered in wet mud and dark red blood, and her eyes were wide open, staring directly at Priya.
Fear and intense shock were instantly visible on Priya’s face as she stopped dead in her tracks.
“How is it possible that her eyes are still completely open?” Priya gasped, clutching her husband’s arm.
Suddenly, right before her eyes, Priya saw the dead woman’s eyelids quickly blink once.
“She blinked!” Priya screamed in terror. “I swear I just saw her blink at me!”
Her husband quickly pulled her away, dismissing her claims with an annoyed sigh.
“You must have just imagined it because you’re tired,” her husband said flatly. “Leave it alone and let’s go upstairs.”
Some people in the gathered crowd began whispering loudly about the details of the tragic accident.
“She was talking on her phone,” a man whispered. “When the old concrete roof suddenly collapsed, and she got trapped and died on the spot.”
“An incident like this happening on a wedding day is a terrible omen,” an old woman murmured darkly.
Hearing all these ominous whispers, Priya became even more terrified as she walked up to her new apartment. She felt deep in her heart that something was not right, turning to her husband with trembling hands.
“I am so afraid,” Priya whispered.
“Don’t overthink things,” her husband replied, opening the door. “Just go to bed and get some rest.”
A few days passed by, and Priya slowly started adjusting to the busy routine of her new city home, though the memory of the dead woman haunted her. One evening, while cooking dinner, she suddenly felt incredibly dizzy and weak, so she decided to go to bed early.
That night, while her husband was fast asleep beside her, he was suddenly awakened by the sound of someone whispering in a strange language. When he turned around in bed, he was completely terrified by what he saw and tried frantically to wake Priya up, but she was in a deep, unresponsive trance.
The next morning, Priya woke up burning with a dangerously high fever, her body shaking. After the local doctor checked her pulse and temperature, he shook his head.
“She is physically fine,” the doctor stated. “It is just severe weakness and stress. Give her these medicines.”
But Priya’s bizarre behavior did not stop; in fact, it escalated rapidly over the next few days. She started waking up in the dead of night, walking around the dark apartment and behaving oddly.
“Sometimes she would rock an invisible child in her arms,” Meera said, her voice chilling. “Sometimes she would make strange, guttural sounds, and sometimes she would just sit on the floor and cry loudly.”
The family members became incredibly worried and terrified of her behavior, locking themselves in their rooms at night. Slowly, the terrifying news of Priya’s possession spread throughout the entire chawl.
An old woman who lived on the ground floor approached the worried husband with a serious expression.
“You should take Priya to the ancient church down the street,” the old woman suggested. “The priest there knows how to deal with these spirits.”
Desperate for a cure, the family dragged the struggling Priya to the church that very afternoon. When they brought her before the altar, the holy priest prayed over her and gave her a small silver bowl of holy water to drink.
As soon as the water touched her lips, Priya’s face contorted into a mask of pure rage, and she started screaming loudly in a deep, masculine tone. She began speaking rapidly in a completely strange language that no one in her family recognized.
Her husband stood back in absolute shock, his hands trembling.
“The language she is speaking is fluent Telugu,” the priest announced, looking at the husband. “And she is desperately trying to say something to us.”
The husband shook his head in complete confusion and disbelief.
“That is impossible!” the husband shouted. “Priya has never left her small village in Maharashtra, and she can barely speak basic Hindi! How could she suddenly speak Telugu?”
The priest quickly called a local parishioner who understood the language fluently to translate. Priya was forced to drink the holy water again, screaming as it burned her throat.
This time, whatever the spirit spoke through her lips was immediately translated into Hindi by the man.
“I am not some evil demon,” the spirit cried out through Priya. “I am Lakshmi!”
The priest stepped forward, holding up a crucifix.
“Which Lakshmi are you?” the priest demanded.
“I am my family’s Lakshmi!” the spirit wept bitterly. “I just want to go back home to my beautiful children! I was just returning home from a long day of work when I received a phone call from my husband. I stopped near the old building to talk safely, and suddenly the concrete roof collapsed on top of me. It was not my fault! My house is in the nearby society!”
The spirit kept crying hysterically, tears streaming down Priya’s face as she begged to be released.
“I just want to go home!” Lakshmi screamed. “My innocent children are waiting for me to make them dinner!”
The translator, his eyes tearing up, asked for the names of her children.
“Arjun and Keerthi!” Priya shrieked at the top of her lungs.
After saying those names, Priya let out a final, agonizing scream, ran wildly outside the church doors, and vomited a thick, black liquid onto the gravel.
Meera paused her story, staring directly at Angeline, who was sitting completely motionless by the bonfire.
“When we asked her if that was truly her story,” Meera said, her voice turning incredibly soft. “The spirit inside replied yes. She said the tragic accident took her life, and she desperately wanted to live for her children, but cruel fate did not allow it.”
Later that week, Priya’s guilt-ridden husband searched the nearby neighborhood and actually found Lakshmi’s grieving family and her two young children. To finally free her trapped soul, a special prayer service was offered in the church with both families present.
Lakshmi’s real husband stepped forward, crying as he spoke to the spirit inside Priya.
“I promise you that I will take full care of our children,” the husband wept. “I will never let them feel your absence. Please, leave this innocent girl’s body and let her live her life, and find your own peace.”
After that emotional promise was made, the heavy spirit finally left, and peace returned to Priya’s life.
Morning was slowly approaching, but the darkness around the hut remained thick and oppressive. Radha looked at Meera, then turned her attention to the fourth woman, an older, weathered villager named Radhika.
Radhika had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were looking back across decades of sorrow.
“Outside a small, forgotten hut in a distant province,” Radhika began, her voice rich with emotion. “A young girl named Radhika was busy filling water buckets from a well. Her hair was messy, and her tired eyes showed a restless, painful waiting.”
She constantly wondered when her lover, Aryan, would finally come back to the village to rescue her. She had been waiting for him for three long months, wishing he would just come once and tell her everything would be fine.
Her abusive, alcoholic father walked out of the hut, mocking her cruelly as he saw her staring down the road.
“You are dreaming like a fool again,” her father laughed, spitting on the ground. “A wealthy city boy will never accept a poor village girl like you.”
Radhika turned around, holding her water pot tightly against her chest.
“Aryan loves me with all his heart,” Radhika replied defiantly. “And we will get married no matter what anyone says.”
Her father laughed even louder, shaking his head at her naivety.
“A rich landlord’s son will never accept an illiterate girl and a drunkard’s daughter,” he taunted before stumbling away.
Radhika ignored his hurtful words, as she had grown completely used to his constant taunts over the years. She quietly walked toward her favorite ancient tree located just outside the village boundaries.
This tree was the sacred place where she and Aryan used to meet every single afternoon, but lately, their secret meetings had become incredibly rare.
“Aryan was the younger, incredibly talented son of the wealthy village landlord,” Radhika explained to the group. “He stayed in the big city for months at a time to manage the family’s massive business because his elder brothers were not educated enough to do it.”
Still, despite the long distance and the silence, Radhika trusted Aryan and his love completely. That is exactly why she kept coming to the tree every single day, waiting for hours, lost completely in his beautiful memories.
After six agonizing months of separation, Aryan finally returned to the village, riding straight to meet Radhika on his motorcycle. His handsome face looked incredibly tired from the journey, but his eyes were filled with pure happiness upon seeing her standing there.
Radhika had been sitting under the shade of the tree, and she stood up instantly as soon as she heard the sound of his engine. Her eyes showed a painful mix of intense joy and deep, lingering pain.
“Why did you take so long to come back to me?” Radhika asked, tears forming in her eyes.
Aryan jumped off his bike and ran to her, grabbing her hands tightly.
“I am so sorry, Radhika,” Aryan said honestly. “My heavy business responsibilities stopped me from leaving, but I thought about you every single day.”
Radhika looked down, a sob escaping her throat.
“I waited for you under this exact same tree every day,” Radhika said softly. “And I always believed you would return, though sometimes a terrible fear crept into my heart.”
Aryan smiled warmly, pulling her into a tight, protective embrace.
“I promise you that I will never leave you again,” Aryan whispered into her hair. “I have come back this time specifically to fulfill my promise of marriage. I am going to talk to my father tonight.”
Radhika pulled back slightly, her face clouded with worry.
“I am so afraid that your family will never let this marriage happen,” Radhika expressed.
Aryan shook his head confidently, kissing her forehead.
“I will make it happen no matter what obstacles they throw at us,” Aryan assured her.
They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a long time, watching the sun set behind the mountains. Later that evening, a heavy, suffocating silence filled the landlord’s massive, luxurious mansion.
Aryan walked down the long, dark hallway near his elder brother Vikram’s bedroom and knocked firmly on the heavy wooden door.
“Vikram, please open the door,” Aryan called out. “Father wants everyone to have dinner together tonight.”
There was absolutely no response from inside the dark room, only a strange stillness. Aryan knocked again, louder this time, his confusion growing.
“Are you listening to me, Vikram?” Aryan asked. “I have finally returned home after a very long time in the city.”
Suddenly, Vikram shouted angrily from inside the room, his voice sounding crazed and distorted.
“Go away, Aryan!” Vikram shrieked. “Leave me alone in the dark! Do not think about Aryan and that useless Rajesh anymore!”
Aryan stepped back, deeply worried by his brother’s unstable tone.
“Come and eat your food, Vikram,” Aryan urged.
But just then, his second elder brother, Rajesh, came stumbling down the hallway toward the door. His physical condition was shocking; his clothes were filthy and torn, and a pungent smell of cheap alcohol rolled off him.
“What have you done to yourself, Rajesh?” Aryan gasped, stepping toward him. “What on earth happened to you?”
Rajesh pushed him away violently, his eyes bloodshot and wild with terror.
“Stay away from me, Aryan!” Rajesh screamed hysterically. “It is better if you just stay away from all of us! I am your brother, but we are cursed!”
The next evening, a deeply confused Aryan came to meet Radhika at their usual spot. She was standing quietly under the ancient tree, watching the wind blow through the leaves.
Deep, troubling thoughts were visible in her beautiful eyes as she watched him approach.
“What happened, Aryan?” Radhika asked gently. “Why are you so late today?”
Aryan sat down on a large root, burying his face in his hands.
“I do not understand anything that is happening at my house, Radhika,” Aryan groaned.
“Why?” Radhika asked, sitting beside him. “What happened?”
“The entire atmosphere at my home has become incredibly strange and terrifying,” Aryan explained. “My brother Vikram locks himself in his room all day, screaming, and Rajesh refuses to tell me anything before passing out from drinking. The doctors say it’s mental illness, but I don’t believe it.”
A few more days passed by, and the situation inside the landlord’s mansion only grew more desperate. Vikram still did not come out of his room, and no food had been taken inside for days.
Finally, a panicked Aryan decided that the heavy bedroom door must be broken down. With the assistance of several muscular estate servants, they threw their shoulders against the wood until it shattered.
The moment the door gave way, a horrific, foul stench rushed out, causing everyone to gag. The entire room was filled with filth, garbage, and dried blood.
Vikram’s lifeless body was lying stretched out on the bed, completely decayed and covered in flies.
“Oh my god,” Aryan gasped, covering his mouth as tears stung his eyes.
An old, loyal family servant stepped into the room, tears rolling down his wrinkled cheeks as he looked at the dead body.
“This is the wrath of God, young master,” the servant whispered brokenly.
Aryan turned to him, his eyes wide with horror and confusion.
“What are you talking about?” Aryan demanded. “What happened here?”
The servant looked around nervously before leaning close to Aryan.
“There was a very poor but incredibly self-respecting girl living in our village,” the servant revealed. “A few months ago, your elder brothers Vikram and Rajesh forced themselves on her brutally.”
Aryan fell back against a chair, his face turning completely white.
“This cannot be true,” Aryan stammered. “My brothers would never do that.”
“It is the absolute truth, sir,” the servant cried. “She complained directly to your father, but he completely ignored her cries to protect the family name. When she realized she was pregnant from the assault, she was publicly insulted and thrown out of the village by your father’s men. The villagers stayed silent out of fear.”
Aryan’s heart shattered into pieces upon hearing the dark, monstrous truth about his family. With a restless, racing heart, he ran out of the mansion and sped toward the ancient tree, desperate to find Radhika.
But when he arrived at the meeting place, the clearing was completely empty.
“Radhika!” Aryan screamed into the wilderness. “Radhika, where are you?”
There was absolutely no reply, only the lonely sound of dry leaves rustling in the cold wind. His heart started beating incredibly fast against his ribs as panic took over.
“She always waits for me here,” Aryan muttered to himself. “Where did she go today?”
Only one terrifying option was left for him: to go directly to her father’s poor hut. When he finally reached the broken-down house, the sight inside completely shocked his soul.
In the center of the dark room, near a pile of firewood, a strange, unnatural aura filled the air. Rajesh was standing there, laughing hysterically like a madman, his eyes completely rolled back into his head.
Suddenly, the air in the room turned freezing cold, and the wooden walls started rustling strangely. Aryan looked around for Radhika, but his eyes widened in horror when he saw a ghostly figure materialize before him.
The spirit flashed a wide, sinister smile, its body shaking as it broke into a terrifying laugh. Its eyes carried a mysterious, vengeful shine that froze Aryan in his tracks.
The spirit stepped out in front of him, claiming its final vengeance for a life cut short.
“After that horrific night,” Radhika said, her voice fading as she looked around the bonfire. “Aryan never went back to his family home, and he never spoke to another living soul. Every single day, he just sat under the old tree, staring blankly down the road.”
The local villagers eventually started calling him mad Aryan, whispering about the tragedy.
“His eyes stayed permanently fixed on the path where Radhika used to come,” Radhika whispered, a tear falling into the fire. “He would mutter, ‘Radhika, you will come back, right? I promised you.’ And this is exactly how my life story ended. Whatever happened, my love for him was true, and that is my only remaining happiness.”
A long, profound silence settled over the four women as the final story concluded. The bonfire was starting to die down, the glowing coals casting a deep red light over their pale faces.
Shalini turned her gaze toward Angeline, who had been sitting quietly through all the tales.
“We have all shared our life stories with you, Angeline,” Shalini said, her voice echoing strangely. “Now, it is your turn to tell us yours.”
Angeline looked up, a calm, eerie expression washing over her young features.
“Yes,” Angeline replied smoothly. “Why not? The horror story I am about to tell you… I am a central part of it myself.”
She adjusted her jacket, staring deeply into the dying embers of the fire.
“I am Angeline,” she began. “An ordinary college girl who always preferred to stay away from large crowds. Books were my best friends, music was my protective shell, and traveling was my only source of true peace. But my life was never truly easy.”
She paused, a bitter tone creeping into her voice.
“I had some friends in college,” Angeline said. “Or maybe just people who were friends in name only. They thoroughly enjoyed teasing me, making up strange rumors about me, and laughing behind my back. I was used to it, so I never really cared.”
But everything changed drastically on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
“It all started with an old cassette tape found in the dark corner of our house,” Angeline explained. “There was an old storeroom in the basement. One day, while cleaning out the dust, I discovered a hidden, battered box.”
Inside the box were several dusty old tapes belonging to her late father.
“He once owned a popular tape shop in the city,” Angeline said. “But with changing times, the shop closed down, and these old tapes were just lying forgotten in the basement. I always liked searching for vintage things.”
She opened the box and picked out a strange, unlabeled cassette tape that looked decades old.
“The next day, I brought it to college,” Angeline continued. “And my friends immediately noticed it sticking out of my bag.”
“What are you hiding in there, Angeline?” one of her popular classmates, Kunal, mocked. “Is it a secret diary or a hidden treasure?”
Angeline pulled her bag away, shaking her head.
“It’s just an old tape,” Angeline replied quietly. “Nothing special. Please give my bag back.”
Kunal snatched the tape out of her bag anyway, laughing with the rest of the group.
“An old tape?” Kunal grinned. “Then we must absolutely listen to what’s on this thing right now.”
Angeline tried desperately to stop them, but they completely refused to listen to her protests. Kunal turned on an old cassette player in the empty classroom and shoved the tape inside.
“At first, there was nothing but loud white noise,” Angeline whispered. “Then, a strange, low whisper filled the room, sounding like someone murmuring very close to our ears. It was incredibly creepy.”
A visible shiver ran through the entire group of students as the whisper grew louder.
“What absolute nonsense,” a girl named Kusum scoffed, stepping forward and stopping the tape.
They all laughed it off to hide their fear, but deep down, something felt horribly wrong to Angeline.
“The very next day, Kunal did not show up to college,” Angeline said, her eyes wide. “There was no phone call, no message, nothing. He had completely vanished into thin air.”
Nobody cared at first, thinking he was just skipping classes. But when an entire day passed without any word, it started to feel incredibly strange to everyone.
“The next day, Kusum also did not come to school,” Angeline said. “Now the situation was turning serious. She was a top student and never disappeared like that.”
Terrified, Angeline decided to visit her third friend, Ketan, who had also been in the room when the tape was played. When she reached his house, she found him sitting in a dark room, looking completely lifeless.
“His eyes were deeply sunken into his skull,” Angeline described, her voice trembling. “His breathing was incredibly uneven and squeaking.”
“Angeline…” Ketan whispered, his voice sounding completely broken.
Angeline bent closer to him, her heart pounding in her chest.
“What happened, Ketan?” Angeline asked frantically. “Where are Kunal and Kusum?”
Ketan raised his trembling hand, pointing toward a small table in the corner of the room.
“The same tape was sitting right there in his hands,” Angeline said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The exact same old, mysterious tape that I had picked up from my basement storeroom.”
“Put it back, Angeline!” Ketan suddenly shrieked, his eyes wide with a terror so deep it looked like he had seen something no human mind could bear.
“But why?” Angeline asked, confused.
She tried to take the tape out of his hand, but his grip was incredibly tight, his fingers locked around the plastic casing.
“Ketan’s voice was almost entirely broken,” Angeline said. “He told me, ‘And now everything is over. Kunal and Kusum are gone forever… and now it is finally my turn.’”
Goosebumps rose all over Angeline’s skin as she stood in his dark living room.
“What are you trying to say, Ketan?” Angeline demanded. “Where did those two go? Did you talk to their families?”
Ketan’s wide eyes met hers, and there was a look in his pupils that filled her with a deep, cold fear.
“His pupils had shrunk to tiny pins,” Angeline whispered. “As if someone had physically sucked the soul right out of his body. He told me, ‘They are not in this world anymore, Angeline. And I won’t be staying here either.’”
There was a strange, rhythmic tremble in his voice as he spoke those final words. He suddenly forced the cassette tape into Angeline’s hands and started stepping backward into the shadows of the room.
“Wait, Ketan!” Angeline yelled, reaching out.
But he acted as if he was completely terrified of her very touch, flinching away violently. Then, without another word, he turned around and ran frantically out of the house.
“I was left standing there completely frozen,” Angeline said. “His movements were erratic, as if he were running away from an invisible monster. I shouted for him to stop, but he ran straight out through the gates and vanished down the street.”
After that fateful afternoon, Ketan was never seen alive by anyone again.
“Now, only I was left alive from our group,” Angeline said, holding up her hands. “In my hands was that exact same cassette tape—cold, mysterious, and incredibly dangerous. Caught between intense fear and morbid curiosity, I went home and played the tape again.”
This time, the white noise was gone, and the low whisper had become perfectly clear and distinct.
“The voice on the tape said, ‘You have listened to it. Now you cannot survive,’” Angeline whispered, mimicking the creepy tone.
A violent chill ran through her entire body as the words echoed in her quiet bedroom. Suddenly, the atmosphere in her house felt incredibly strange, as if an unseen presence were standing directly in the corner of the room, watching her every move.
The heavy curtains on her window started moving aggressively without a single breath of wind outside. Then, a cold gust of air entered the closed room, sending violent shivers down her spine.
Her heart started pounding loudly in sheer panic as the realization hit her. She quickly slammed her hand down on the player to stop the tape, but nothing felt right anymore.
The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating, and completely toxic. She knew deep down that it was no longer safe for her to stay in that house alone.
“I had to leave that place immediately,” Angeline said, her voice rising in intensity. “I quickly packed my heavy backpack. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I had to leave the city. I knew I could not stop walking.”
Without wasting another second, she started walking down the highway. Her steps were incredibly fast, but at every dark turn of the road, it felt like someone was following closely behind her.
“With every single step I took,” Angeline said. “It seemed like someone was secretly watching me from the tree line. But whenever I spun around to look, there was nothing there—only deep, consuming darkness.”
In the dead of the freezing night, she kept walking entirely alone on a deserted road stretching between the dense forests.
“Then, I saw a bright light burning in the distance,” Angeline smiled faintly. “A campfire. I thought to myself that maybe there would be normal people there. Maybe I just needed to stop there and rest before going any further.”
She slowly moved toward the roaring campfire, stepping out of the dark woods.
“And that is exactly where I met all four of you tonight,” Angeline concluded, looking around at the four women.
Shalini, Meera, Radha, and Radhika all stared at her, their expressions unreadable in the dimming light of the fire.
“Now you two have disappeared from that living world into this one,” Shalini said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion.
“Yes,” Angeline replied softly, a strange peace washing over her face. “Just like all of my college friends, I have also completely disappeared from that world. Or maybe… I am already dead, just like all of us sitting here.”
All four women looked at each other, and a faint, chilling smile appeared on each of their faces as they nodded in unison.
“By the way,” Meera asked, leaning closer to Angeline. “What exactly was recorded on that mysterious tape? We also want to hear it.”
Angeline smiled, her eyes reflecting the last dying embers of the bonfire.
“Okay,” Angeline whispered. “I still have the tape right here in my backpack.”
Saying this, Angeline reached into her bag, pulled out the old, dusty cassette player, and placed it firmly on the log between them. She pressed the heavy play button.
The tape hissed with loud white noise for a brief second before a deep, distorted voice echoed out into the freezing forest air.
“You have listened to it,” the voice growled loudly. “Now you cannot survive.”
After hearing the message, Lakshmi’s spirit, sitting inside the circle, looked up at Angeline with a confused expression.
“Now all of us have also heard this tape,” Lakshmi remarked coldly. “But we are already dead souls. So who is left to die now?”
Angeline’s smile grew wider, her eyes locking onto a point directly behind the campfire, past the screen where the living world met the dead.
“She also listened to it with us,” Angeline whispered, pointing a pale finger toward the darkness.
