"The Letter

Title

Th

The house was in ruins. The dividers were broken, windows smashed, and the wooden entryways were plagued with termites. Still, each corner of the house whispered recollections of his childhood. His mother's sleep time stories, his father's strict voice, and his grandmother's delicate hands—it was all lively within the quiet of the dividers.

That exceptionally, to begin with night, something unusual happened.

As he was almost to rest, Animesh took note a little envelope by the window. The paper was ancient and dusty, but the penmanship was clear.

The letter was examined:

"Animesh,

I knew you'd return. I'm still here. Come to the storm cellar."

Who composed this? No one else lived within the house. Indeed, the ancient hirelings had cleared out long prior. He thought maybe somebody was playing a trick. But in this abandoned town, he barely knew anybody any longer. Driven by interest, he took a light and slid into the storm cellar.

The cellar had continuously frightened him as a child. Cold, clammy, and filled with a smelly smell—rotting wood and form. It had no light. With his light glinting, he looked around.

Nothing appeared abnormal. Dust-covered floors, broken furniture, and in one corner, an ancient reflector. But as he looked into the mirror, his blood ran cold.

There was a shadow behind him.

He spun around. No one. Looked back into the mirror—the shadow was still there.

It was a girl's reflection. Dressed in a white sari, long free hair, and deep, empty dark eyes.

“Animesh...”—a delicate whisper resounded.

He hopped, his heart beating. Hurried upstairs, pummeled the entryway closed, and sat on the bed trembling.

The following morning, he attempted to persuade himself it was a dream. Everything appeared typical. Winged creatures chirping, daylight sifting through broken shades. But at that point, another envelope lay by the window.

Same penmanship. Same ancient paper.

"Do not you recognize me? I'm Rupa. Your childhood companion. Have you overlooked? I'm still holding up. Come to the reflection room."

Rupa? The title struck a chord. They utilized to play together as kids. But one day, Rupa had vanished. Everyone said she had suffocated within the stream. But her body was never found.

The “mirror room” implied the little chamber another to the storm cellar, where a huge collectible reflect stood. His grandma once cautioned him—“That reflect holds recollections. A few never leave.”

Torn between fear and blame, Adam went down once more. Within the reflect room, Rupa stood inside the glass. This time, she was grinning faintly, tears in her eyes.

“Why did you take so long?”—her voice was overwhelming with distress.

“Are you... truly Rupa?”—he whispered.

“I never cleared out, Animesh. I was killed. I came here to play, but at that point... somebody dragged me inside. In this exceptionally room.” Her voice split.

All of a sudden, a crack appeared within the divider behind the reflector. A chunk of brick fell off. Interior was a little skeleton, a few ancient worn out dresses, and a broken doll—Rupa's favorite.

Animesh solidified. His heart thundered. He may scarcely breathe.

“Do you need me to discover the one who did this?”—he inquired.

Rupa gestured, her eyes burning with a need for equity.

“He still lives... close your house. He was a hireling at that point. He called me in to play. At that point... he buried me here.” Her voice faded into hush.

Recollections came flooding back. Back at that point, they had a middle-aged servant—Raghu. Calm, irate, and continuously gazing oddly at Rupa. The police had addressed him once, but without proof, he strolled free.

“I require peace, Animesh. Tell the world I didn't run away—I was murdered,” Rupa's voice whispered one final time some time recently vanishing from the reflect.

Decided, Adam went to the police the following day. He uncovered the remains within the storm cellar. The skeleton was recognized as that of a child. With modern proof and a DNA coordinate, Raghu was captured. The town was in shock. A killer had lived among them for a long time.

Rupa's long-lost family returned to the town. They cried sharply upon accepting her remains. But someplace in their pain, they found solace—finally, her soul could be free.

Animesh came back to the house once more. This time, the reflect room was purge. He thought it was over.

But…

The night he cleared out recently, another letter showed up by the window.

"Thank you, Angela. I'm at peace presently. But watch out... this house holds more than mirrors.

It holds memories. Those who disregard, return. And remain... until the end of time."

Perusing the note, a chill ran down Animesh's spine.

On the divider, for a fair minute, Rupa's grinning.

smiling

grinning

Synonyms

shadow appeared—then vanished.

[The end ]