That Deserted House (2 min read)

You walk down a road and feel a pair of eyes on you. But then, there is nobody around. It’s a quiet summer afternoon; people, unlike you, prefer to avoid the heat and take a nap around this time. Is it just your hyperactive instinct?

Then you step into your front yard. You hope to heave a sigh of relief as you’re home, but are you? Why does it feel like this place you call home is luring you into a state of darkness? As if it’s been waiting for you…for a long, long time.

You’ve rented this place only a week back. The neighborhood is new. But on the very day you moved in, your neighbor from across the road decided to befriend you just to ask if you knew everything about this house. All you could do was throw a blank stare.

She said you should’ve never rented this place. Because the last tenant and his family had gone missing suddenly on one such bright morning. You could only swallow your fear and tell her that you were not bothered about the past. But were you not? Really?

You unlock the door. It creaks open. You walk in, keep the groceries on the table and come back to latch the door. And a sound, rather a thud, sends a shiver down your spine. You realize it came from somewhere up above. Is it the attic?

You climb into it. Then you push the door open. Your heart thumps heavily in your chest. It’s dimly lit. You know why you’re here. You let your eyes penetrate the darkness in the corners. Then you take a step. You know where to find what you’re looking for. There it is – the trunk. And you suddenly recollect why, in the first place, you’d decided to rent this specific deserted house.

You fling the lid open. And an odor, foul and rotten, wafts in making you want to throw up. You let go of the lid and it falls with a wham. The sound reverberates around the house. Which is slightly over that of your laughter – a sordid, devilish laughter. But then you hear a knock at the main door. Is it that stupid neighbor again?

A killer comes back to stay in the house, the same place where she murdered its old tenant and his family. What a convenient way to make sure nobody ever finds out where the corpses are! You smirk on your way to the door.

‘Yes, how can I help you?’ A stranger it is. You feel highly irritated.

‘Hi, we got a call from your landline an hour back claiming there are dead bodies in this house.’ He flashes his Police Identity.

An hour back? You were not even home. Suddenly you feel those eyes on you again. More than just one pair of eyes. You stand there, still and stumped. Who are they?


Written by Chirasree Bose

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