ghost rent

Rainy evening journey

The name of the village is Nishintpur. A typical village of Bengal, surrounded by greenery, surrounded by rivers and canals. But at one end of this village, the road that leads towards Calcutta, many strange stories are heard about it. Especially at night.

Arun Majumder is the son of this village. Father died a few years ago. He has to work hard to run the family with his mother and younger sister. He is trying hard to get a good job in Kolkata. Today he has an interview in a reputed company.

Arun left at 5:30 in the morning to catch the morning bus. But the rain has started since night. Moderate drizzle. The road is slippery, full of mud. Arun is walking fast with an umbrella on his head. On reaching the bus stand, the bus had left just five minutes ago.

"What now?" Arun thinks disappointedly. The next bus is three hours later. The interview will be missed.

Just then an old ambassador's car stopped in front of him. The middle-aged driver opened the window and asked, "Going to Calcutta?"

Arun is surprised. "Yes, but..."

"I am also going to Calcutta. Will pick up. No rent, just pay for petrol."

Arun is a bit skeptical. Unknown people, unknown cars. But there is no way to waste time. He sat in the car.

Strange feeling inside the car

The interior of the car is clean, but there is a smell—a mixture of soil and old fabric. The driver does not speak. Arun looks out of the window. It's still raining.

Suddenly the driver said, "What's your name?"

"Arun. Yours?"

The driver paused and said, "I can't remember the name."

Thorns on Arun. He looks at the driver. The driver's eyes are visible in the mirror—unusual black, lifeless.

The car continues to move. The road is empty. No vehicles. Arun thinks the car's speedometer is not working. It is not understood how fast it is going.

strange passenger

Suddenly Arun sees, a woman is standing on the side of the road. She is wearing a wet saree, her hair is tangled. Woman gesturing car to stop.

"Sir, pick up that woman?" Arun asks.

The driver doesn't answer, but the car stops next to the woman. The woman sits in the back seat. Arun paused as he looked back—the woman's face was pale, her lips blue, her eyes like deep pits.

"Thank you," the woman says, but her voice is barely audible.

Arun's heart rate increases. He looks at the driver. The driver's face is now disfigured, the skin rotting away.

"We drive ghosts," says the driver, a wry smile on his face. "You are our new passenger."

The mystery of the car

Arun wants to scream, but his throat is dry. The car door locks itself. Blood stains suddenly appear on the windows.

The woman whistled from behind, "You'll be with us forever..."

The car keeps speeding, but the road doesn't end. It's only dark outside now. Arun realizes that this is no ordinary car.

Suddenly the car stopped with a jolt. It's dark outside, but a light is shining in the distance.

"Get out," says the driver.

As Arun pushes the door open, he finds himself standing in front of an abandoned car—completely wrecked, rusted.

A true revelation

The next morning the villagers found Arun's dead body by the roadside. His face was grim, his eyes wide.

The police investigated and said that Arun died of heart attack. But the villagers know the truth.

Ten years ago, an ambassador's car met with an accident on this road. The driver and a female passenger died. Since then, people say, the car is sometimes seen at night, looking for new passengers.

Ghosts never pay back rent.

Last part: village faith

The people of Nishchintapur still tell this story. Especially on a rainy night, one should not go on that road if one misses the bus.

Because, who knows, maybe that ghost car is waiting for a new passenger tomorrow night too...

Author:- MD Tanvir Hossain