The Dark Shadow

A narrow walk through the river at the corner of the village was curved and shrouded in darkness after sunset. It was this road that all villagers avoided after dusk.

Because she went there.

It was said that a young bride who was tortured by her was drowned in the river several decades ago. Her name was now lost, but the villagers remembered their screams. Since then, the path next to the river has been known as Shadda's pig chaya - "The road with shadows."

Born in a village, Rahul grew up in the city, returning the winter to take care of his grandfather's house. He was a practical young man rooted in reason and grew up in science and urban light. He believed that the ghost story was just that - the story. A folk tale in the sky.

He laughed when the locals warned him not to use the river path after it got dark.

"There are no ghosts," he told them. "They all need electricity and better streets."

The night they returned from the

market, Rischa in Rahul collapsed. The visibly scary driver refused to take the abbreviation for river.

"I won't go that way, not after it's dark," the man said.

It was already after 9pm, and Main Street lasted an hour on foot, and the air was frozen. Rahul decided to go on the forbidden path.

"It's just a superstition," he muttered to himself.

The

Pass was quiet, sandwiched between thick veils of trees and mist. The moon hangs low but barely thrusts into the fog. His footsteps echoing across the frozen earth, crisp and lonely.

Then the wind stopped.

A strange, heavy silence settled down on the road, as if the world was trying to hold your breath.

I heard

Rahul.

Splash.

He froze.

Another splash. soft. Rhythmic. Like someone stepping into flat water.

He headed towards the river.

At first, he thought, his eyes made him trick. But no - it was her.

A woman was standing in the water.

She wore a white saree and soaked and clinched to her thin frame. Her long black hair covered her face. Water drips from her fingers.

Rahul's neck gets worse.

"Hello?" He called out half-shooting that he was just a villager. No answer.

The woman slowly raised her head.

Her face came out of the shadows - and Rahul grabbed the air.

She had no eyes. Only a black, hollow base. Where her eyes were supposed to be, there was only darkness, infinite and gaps.

Then she smiled.

Not the smiles of

, but the imitation of humanity - too far away, too late.

It stepped onto the riverbank.

Rahul began to run, but he felt his legs closed. Like a hand pressed against his chest, the cold air filled the air.

Then he heard it.

Whisper. Not from behind, not from the front, but in his head.

"You blocked my path... Now you need to stay."

Something cold on his neck.

In panic, Rahul invaded the sprint and knocked his ear like thunder. As he ran, he saw the shape passing him - white, fluid, quiet. He stumbled and fell into the mud with his face.

To the right in front of him was a small, invigorating bird - his wings are twisted, his eyes are missing.

He cried. When he finally reached his house, his hands trembled and his clothes were soaked in sweat. He closed the door and didn't sleep for a moment that night.

The next morning he discovered he had muttered the veranda.

"She had no eyes," he whispered. "But she sees everything."

He got sick that day - high fever, inconsistent chatter. With his delirium, he repeated over and over again:

"She's looking for someone. She needs a way."

3 days later, the fever broke, but Rahul was never the same. He refused to leave the house after sunset. He avoided mirrors, shadows, and even water bodies.

One night, his uncle visited him and asked: Rahul did not answer. But his eyes told the truth.

His uncle nodded harshly. "You're not the first."

Three other people have looked at them over the years. One was crazy, the other disappeared, a third was discovered, and the eyes disappeared.

Since then, Rahul has become a silent warning at Belpur. Memory.

Still, villagers say that if they walk on a river on a winter night, they can hear soft syringes. Or a wet sari brush on the grass.

And if you do that...

don't stop. Please don't talk. And most of all, they are invisible.

If you block your path...

Because she occupies her place in the world.