The House of Shadows

It was about 11 PM when Sohan stood alone before the ancient tin-roofed house at the distant conclusion of the town. The moon hung within the sky, showering everything in a cold, pale light. The wind whispered through the tall grass, and the trees encompassing the place creaked as if attempting to caution him. But Sohan wasn't a man to accept in phantom stories.

He had come from the city several days after his grandfather's passing. His family had asked him to check on a few ancient properties within the village land and a deserted house that had once housed a removed relative. But no one challenged him to go close the house any longer. The local people called it “The House of Shadows.”

They said a lady had been burned to death passing there two decades back, and her soul still wandered interior, crying for her lost child. No one had lived within the house since that point. Villagers detailed bizarre sightings—shadows moving over windows, whispers within the night, and of sometimes, crying.

But Sohan was a viable man.

“Ghosts do not exist,” he told his companions, “It's fair a house. I'll spend one night there and demonstrate it.”

Outfitted with a flashlight, a camera, a few dry nourishment, and a resting sack, he entered the house. The entryway squeaked uproariously as he pushed it open. The interior, the discussion was stale, thick with clean and the clean fragrance of charred wood. The wooden floor moaned beneath his steps. A broken mirror hung on one divider, its surface split and spotted with age. Cobwebs hung like wraps from the corners, and within the quiet, each development felt intensified.

He set up his resting sack within the center of the room, set the electric lamp close to him, and started recording a vlog for fun.

“This is Sohan Rahman,” he said with a smirk, “Reporting live from the spookiest part of the town. Spoiler:

There's nothing here.”

But as the night extended, the discussion turned colder. His electric lamp glinted, then steadied once more. From the exterior came the removed cry of a canine, followed by a ghostly hush that appeared nearly as calm.

At that point, he saw it in the reflection.

A shape.

Behind him.

A lady, hung in a white sari, long dark hair falling over her shoulders, her face blurred like smoke. Her figure was still, however, somehow…breathing.

He spun around. No one. 

But he turned to the mirror, and she was still there, her mouth moving. At first, there was no sound, but whispers filled the room:

"This is my house...vacation..."

Sohan Frozen. His heart hit his chest. He tried to streamline - perhaps it was a reflection of the shadows and his imagination that played the trick. But the air felt violent, pressing against his skin like an invisible hand. He slowly pulled back out of the mirror.

Then came the sound. Knock the soft.

Tap. knock. knock.

He turned to the door. Another knock, Louder.

Suddenly, the door hit with a deafeningly hard-hitting pound.

The flashlight blinked and died. Darkness swallowed him completely.

Something moved in black.

And then - the cry began.

Soft, heartbreaking sobs. A woman crying over a child. The noise came from all directions and jumped off the wall. Then whispered into his ear:

"My baby... where is my baby?"

Sohan cried, falling around the door. He pulled and threw it, but it couldn't open it. I felt it was closed. Then he felt that.

Hands - Mixing and Mixing of Death - on the shoulder.

He slowly turned around and was there.

Her face was burning, her skin melting and cracking, and her eyes were missing. Her lips moved again, and he could hear her clearly:

"You took him with you... You burned me... I returned it..." She floated above him, her feet didn't touch the ground. The mirror behind her now reflects something else - a burning room, a screaming child, a fire woman. Sohan realizes that he had experienced her death. For some reason, this house remembered.

Then everything went dark.

Tomorrow is here.

A group of villagers came in fear that they hadn't heard of Sohan. They forced the door.

Inside, he found him on the floor, his eyes wide open, and whispered:

"Fire...Mirror...Child...Shadow..."

He was alive, but something broke inside him. He didn't recognize anyone. He repeated these words over and over.

Doctors in the city have diagnosed him with trauma-induced psychosis. However, the villagers said he saw the truth - the Shadow House curse touched him.

You closed the house again, closed the door, and warned others not to go near you.

But even today, on a calm moon night, the villagers say they saw a white woman by the window, illuminating the ghostly fire burn:

"Where is my baby..."