Dead Man’s Wish

Dead Man’s Wish

The old man’s house stood at the edge of the village, its windows darkened by years of neglect, and its walls cloaked in ivy. Children whispered tales of ghosts and curses, daring each other to approach its creaking porch. But to Mala, it was home—a place filled with memories of love, laughter, and the life she had built with her late husband, Rajan.

Rajan had passed away three months prior, leaving behind a will with a peculiar clause: “My final wish is for Mala to find happiness and independence. Let her choose her path, free from obligation.” The village elders found it touching, a testament to a husband's love. But for Mala, it was a burden she didn't know how to bear.

Her sons, Vineet and Rohan, returned home for the funeral, their faces etched with grief and something else—guilt, perhaps, for years spent away, too busy to visit. After the rites, they sat her down.

“Ma,” Vineet began, “we think it’s best if you come live with us. This house is too big, too old.”

Rohan nodded. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

Mala looked around the room, her eyes settling on the worn armchair where Rajan used to sit, reading his newspaper. “I appreciate your concern,” she said softly, “but this is my home.”

They exchanged glances. “We understand,” Vineet said, though disappointment lingered in his voice.

That night, Mala sat by the fireplace, the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. She clutched Rajan’s favorite shawl, inhaling the faint scent that still lingered. “You always knew I’d choose to stay,” she whispered.

A sudden chill swept through the room, causing the flames to flicker. The shadows deepened, coalescing into a figure—a translucent form with familiar eyes.

“Rajan?” she gasped.

He smiled, a mix of sorrow and love. “I had to see you one last time.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I miss you.”

“I know,” he said, reaching out, though his hand passed through hers. “But I needed to be sure you were okay, that you would live your life.”

“I’m trying,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Then my wish is fulfilled.”

With that, he faded, the room returning to its quiet stillness.

The next morning, Mala awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. She tended to the garden, repaired the squeaky gate, and even joined the village knitting circle. Word spread of her resilience, inspiring others.

Her sons visited more often, bringing their children, filling the house with laughter once more. And every evening, as the sun set, Mala would sit by the fireplace, feeling Rajan’s presence, knowing he was watching over her.

In honoring his wish, she found her own strength.

Note: This story is inspired by themes of love, loss, and resilience, similar to those found in Akshata's "The Dead Man's Wish" on Your Story Club .