A REAL STORY

Let me share a “real” ghost story with you. For those of you who aren’t familiar with what a ghost is, let me explain: A ghost is the soul of a person that, though incorporeal, can’t be seen during the day—or even at night. But sometimes, it can be felt... especially at night. Occasionally, it can even be sensed during the day.

Hahaha...

For those of you already feeling scared, don’t move! Because guess what? “You are not alone”!

I had just rented a house in Old Dhaka and started a new job. My wife, however, was living in Mymensingh. On the day I moved in, an elderly man grabbed my hand and asked softly, “Are you going to move into this house?”

“Yes,” I replied.

He looked at me with a knowing gaze and said, “Be careful… You’re not the only one.”

As night fell while I was unpacking, I locked the gate and decided to go to a nearby hotel for dinner. I thought about calling my wife—she must have been worried. But when I checked my pocket for my phone, it wasn’t there!

I distinctly remembered taking it with me when I left. Where could it have gone?

I searched all over, but it was nowhere to be found. Left with no choice, I used the hotel’s phone to call my number. After two rings, a woman’s voice answered.

“You are not alone,” she whispered before the line went dead.

I tried calling again, but the number wouldn’t connect. Someone had taken my phone.

Feeling frustrated and uneasy, I returned home—still unable to reassure my wife that I had made it safely. When I entered the house, I was lost in thought, but then something caught my eye. There, on the table, was my phone.

I was shaken. I searched the house—checked the kitchen, the bathroom, the balcony, the storage room, and even under the bed. But no one was there.

I laid down in bed, pulled the mosquito net over me, turned off the lights, and tried to sleep. But I could *feel* it. There was someone else in the room. I could hear footsteps, the sound of breathing... even throat clearing.

I was too terrified to turn on the light, fearing I might see something. But when I heard the mosquito net rustling as if someone were trying to lift it and enter... I couldn’t resist. I turned on the light.

Nothing. No one.

I quickly called my wife, waking her up, and begged her to come in the morning. The fear kept me up all night, in the dark.

The next morning, on my way to work, I handed the keys to the landlord, asking him to give them to my wife when she arrived.

Around 11 a.m., I got a call from my wife. “Hey, we’re on our way! You picked a beautiful house.”

“Did you like the house?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Isn’t it nice?” she replied cheerfully. “By the way, there’s nothing in the house. What should we eat?”

“We’ll eat out. I’ll be home in about 30 minutes,” I said.

When I arrived home, the gate was locked. I wondered if my wife had taken the child out to eat. I went to the landlord and asked, “Did Labbanya come to take the keys?”

“Labbanya? No, she hasn’t come to get the keys,” he said, confused.

I was stunned. What was going on?

I took out my phone and called my wife.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“I’m still in Mymensingh,” she replied. “I couldn’t get a ticket for the morning bus, and my phone balance was low. I’m at the bus stand now. I’ll be there on the afternoon bus.”

“Okay, call me when you reach Dhaka,” I said, hanging up, completely bewildered.

The landlord noticed how I looked, but I couldn’t explain. I felt sick to my stomach, and a low fever was setting in. I didn’t know what was real anymore.

When my wife finally arrived that evening, it was already dark. She washed up, and then got busy cooking. I played with the kid while she worked her magic in the kitchen—she’s an amazing cook, coming from a small town.

We ate, and then went to bed, exhausted.

How long I slept, I don’t know. But suddenly, I felt a cold hand on my body, and I woke up. When I looked up, two glowing eyes were staring at me, and I could feel heavy breath against my skin.

I screamed and switched on the light.

The bed was empty.

There was no one there.