The Invisible Letters

Mrinol lived on the outskirts of the city in a house that seemed to disappear into the shadows of the surrounding forest. No one visited him, and no one knew much about him—not even his distant relatives. His life was a quiet routine, until one cold morning when a strange letter slipped under his door.

It read:

"It’s time to correct your past mistakes. Follow the instructions carefully."

The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the weight of the message sent shivers down his spine. What past mistakes? And who could possibly know about them?

The next day, another letter arrived:

"Under the old oak tree lies the answer. Find the red box. But beware—the truth may shatter you."

Curiosity and fear battled within Mrinol. Against his better judgment, he decided to go to the oak tree. The massive tree stood as it always had, its gnarled roots like claws digging into the earth. Beneath it, partially buried in the soil, he found a weathered red box.

Opening it, his hands trembled. Inside was an old photograph, a lock of hair, and a handwritten note:

"You left me to die. I haven’t forgotten, and neither has fate."

Mrinol stumbled back, his mind reeling. The photograph was of a young girl—her haunting eyes burned into his memory. It was someone he had tried to forget, someone whose name he hadn’t spoken in over a decade.

As he tried to process the shock, his phone buzzed. A message popped up from an unknown number:

"Did you think the dead stay silent? Come to the lake at midnight if you want redemption."

Midnight arrived with a thick fog shrouding the lake. Mrinol hesitated but ultimately stepped into the cold night. The silence was deafening except for the faint sound of water lapping against the shore.

Suddenly, he heard a voice. It wasn’t human—it echoed as if carried by the wind:

"Confess, and perhaps I will let you go."