White STRANGER PART 7 The path felt different under the pale moonlight, shadows twisting around her. when she reached the clearing, the house loomed ominously, its windows dark and empty. "shyam!" she called, her voice trembling. silence answered her. heart pounding, she stepped closer. the porch cracked as she approached, but the air felt thick with an unshakeable dread. Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through, and she caught a glimpse of something moving inside the house - a flicker of light. "shyam?" she wishpered, hope battling with fear. but as she reached for the doorknob, a chill washed over her, and she stopped. ©अंkita

अंkita

on this third night of navaratri's grace, may strength and wisdom fill your space. !! happy navaratri !! ©अंkita

अंkita

STRANGER PART 6 "They refused to leave when developers came. on ny one, they vanished. some say they were taken by the spirits of the land, still angry and restless," her mother murmured, eyes darting towards the window. subi's heart raced as she replayed shyam's story in her mind. had she been speaking to a ghost? A chill settled deep in her bones, and she could hardly breathe. she had felt so alive in their conversation, but now it all felt like a cruel joke. determined, she waited until midnight, her curiosity and dread pulling her back towards the woods.. ©अंkita

अंkita

White behind a calm face lies a heart racing with storms; serenity on the surface, chaos underneath... ©अंkita

अंkita

White STRANGER PART 5 That night excitement bubbled within subi, but when she arrived home, her mothers face fell as she entered. "Where were you?" she asked, concern shadowing her features. "I met someone! He lives in that old house by the woods, " subi exclaimed. Her mother's expression turned grave. "No one lives there anymore, subi. A family used to, but they.... they died under strange circumstances. They say it was the curse that took them. A cold shiver coursed through subi's body. "What do you mean?" ©अंkita

अंkita

White if destiny is already written, can we truly change our past, or are our choices merely the ink that colours its pages? ©अंkita

अंkita