l Black Door: Ruba’s Curse

l Black Door: Ruba’s Curse”

Rayhan had always been brave since childhood. He laughed at ghost stories and loved telling his friends that ghosts weren’t real.

This vacation, he left the city to visit his grandmother’s house. The old one-story house stood at the edge of a remote village. In front lay rice fields, and behind it—dense bamboo groves and towering palm trees. At night, the only sounds were of crickets and wind through the leaves.

But the most mysterious thing about the house was an old room—its black wooden door always shut. No windows. A thick layer of dust covered its edges. Villagers whispered, “That room is cursed.”

On his first day, Rayhan asked, “Why is that room always locked?”
Grandma replied in a trembling voice, “You’re better off not knowing. Thirteen years ago, a girl disappeared inside that room. Since then, terrible things have happened…”

That night, while everyone slept, Rayhan stepped out with a flashlight and stood in front of the black door. The moment he touched it, a shiver ran through his spine—icy cold.

He thought he saw a pair of red eyes through the crack of the door. But in the blink of an eye—gone.

Still, he gathered courage and pushed the door open. It creaked and groaned as it swung.

The moment he stepped inside, his flashlight flickered and went off. Complete darkness. He tried his phone’s flash—but it had shut down too.

Suddenly, a whisper—
“You’ve come…”
Rayhan turned around, heart racing. No one there.

Then, a freezing hand touched his shoulder. He turned and screamed—a girl stood there. Torn white dress, tangled hair, and hollow eyes.

She said, “I’m Ruba…”
Then vanished. The door slammed shut behind him.

Rayhan ran to it and pushed, but it wouldn't budge. The walls began to bleed, chains clattered across the floor. A deep, gurgling voice cried from the corners.

Children’s cries echoed from the darkness, “Save us…”

The floor cracked open beneath him, revealing a pit of fire. From the smoke, a shadowy figure rose—deep, terrifying. A voice thundered, “You’ll stay here forever…”

Trembling, Rayhan whispered, “Who are you?”

Ruba’s voice came again, “This room once belonged to my father, Mr. Foysal. He pretended to be a holy man. At night, he used to bring people here, claiming to exorcise spirits—while secretly sacrificing them. One day, I discovered his secret…”

Rayhan’s skin crawled.

“I tried to stop him,” Ruba said. “But one night, he drugged me. I escaped and hid in this room. That night, a fire broke out. Everyone thought I died. But I was trapped here. My father later killed himself. Since then, this room has lived… feeding on anyone who enters.”

Rayhan asked, “How can I escape?”

Ruba answered, “Only one way. My burned remains are buried beneath a palm tree deep in the bamboo forest. Leave a piece of my cloth there, with my name. And destroy the black amulet my father created. It’s hidden in the ceiling of this room.”

Rayhan looked up and spotted a stone container in a wooden rack. Inside was a wrapped black amulet. Without hesitation, he threw it into the fiery pit. A horrible scream filled the room. The ground shook violently.

Then the door burst open. Rayhan ran out, breathless.

Next morning, he ventured into the bamboo grove. Beneath an old palm tree, he dug—and found charred cloth and bones. On the cloth: “Ruba Khatun, Age 14.”

He gently placed the torn piece of Ruba’s dress from the room next to it.

Suddenly, the wind stopped. A girl’s soft voice whispered, “Thank you… I’m free.”

Since that day, the black door never creaks again. The room remains sealed. But some nights, villagers claim to see a faint light inside… flickering, waiting.

Rayhan? He never walks near that door again.