Ravi had always been fascinated by forgotten places. As a photographer and aspiring writer, he found beauty in decay old buildings, rusted gates, cracked mirrors. That’s what drew him one monsoon evening to the outskirts of a small town in Himachal, where locals spoke in hushed voices about an abandoned house.The villagers called it “The Silent House.”Nobody lived there for decades. Children dared each other to go near its broken gates, but none ever crossed the courtyard. The elders said voices could be heard after midnight, whispers of the dead. Some claimed a family once lived there, but none ...Read More

Ravi hadn’t slept a wink. The child’s whisper kept circling in his head: “Leave before he comes…”By morning, his outweighed his fear. Whatever was inside that locked room, whatever shadow lurked in his photos — he needed answers. Otherwise, the images, the whispers, the memory of that pale face would haunt him forever.Armed with his camera, a new flashlight, and a crowbar borrowed from the villager who rented him the room, Ravi walked back to the Silent House.The locals shook their heads when they saw him go. One old woman grabbed his wrist and muttered in Hindi, “Beta, don’t ...Read More

The night had thickened into a suffocating darkness. Shadows clung to the corners of the abandoned mansion, as though house itself had grown alive and resentful. Raghav stood at the doorway, breath shallow, holding the rusted lantern he had found earlier. Its weak flame sputtered, threatening to vanish and leave him blind among the whispers of the past.He should have left. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run. Yet something unseen pulled him further inside, a force as cold as the grave but irresistible, like an invisible hand guiding him toward his doom.The corridor stretched long ...Read More