The Return of the Spirit

# **The Return of the Spirit**

**Written by: [Faheem ullah]**

### **Part One**

Omar was a young psychologist working at a large hospital in Karachi. His specialty was trauma therapy—treating patients who had endured severe emotional or psychological shocks. One day, a new patient was admitted to the hospital: a woman named Zainab. She was around twenty-five years old, her face etched with unmistakable fear. Dark circles framed her eyes, as though she hadn’t slept in weeks.

Omar called her into his office. As soon as she entered, Zainab asked him to close the door.

"What’s troubling you?" Omar asked gently.

Zainab ran her fingers through her hair, trembling. "Doctor… I’m not alone."

Omar smiled slightly. "What do you mean?"

"There’s… someone else with me." Her voice shook.

Omar picked up his pen and began taking notes. "Are you in a relationship?"

"No… it’s not a person." Zainab closed her eyes. "It’s a spirit."

Omar studied her carefully. He had heard delusions from patients before, but there was something unsettlingly real about Zainab’s words.

"Can you see it?"

"No… but I can feel it." She wrapped her arms around herself, as if someone were touching her. "It’s close… always."

### **Part Two**

Omar tried to learn more about Zainab’s past. She came from a middle-class family and lived alone after her parents passed away. She told him that a month ago, she had been sleeping in her apartment when she felt someone touch her.

"I opened my eyes, but no one was there… yet I knew it was standing right beside me." Zainab’s breathing quickened. "Then I saw her in my dreams."

"What did you see?" Omar asked.

"A woman… long black hair, a white dress. She had no eyes… just hollow black voids." Zainab shuddered. "She whispers to me… ‘You belong to me.’"

Omar considered whether Zainab was suffering from repressed trauma, but the terror in her eyes seemed far deeper than a typical psychological issue.

"Have you ever seen someone die?" Omar asked.

Zainab nodded. "My mother… I watched her die in front of me. She was sick, but the doctors said she would recover. One night, I went into her room and found her… dead. There was a strange smile on her face."

Omar noted that perhaps the trauma of her mother’s death was manifesting in these nightmares. He prescribed her some medication and asked her to return the following week.

### **Part Three**

But Zainab never came back. Omar called her, but there was no answer. Three days later, the police informed him that Zainab’s body had been found in her apartment. She had committed suicide.

Omar couldn’t believe it. He went to her apartment, where the police allowed him inside. The place was eerily silent. Zainab’s body had been taken away, but her room remained untouched. As Omar looked around, he noticed a diary tucked under the bed.

He opened it. On the last page, Zainab had written:

**"She’s taking me. I can’t stop her. Dr. Omar… if you’re reading this, please help me. She’s not just after me—she’s coming for you too."**

A chill ran down Omar’s spine. He closed the diary and turned to leave. As he did, he felt unseen eyes watching him. He spun around—and there, in the corner of the room, stood a woman in a white dress. Her long black hair covered her face, but when she lifted her head… Omar saw she had no eyes.

### **Part Four**

Omar screamed and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, the woman was gone. He rushed out of the apartment and into his car, his heart pounding.

For days, Omar tried to forget what he had seen, but the woman began appearing in his dreams. Every night, she stood at the foot of his bed, watching him until he woke in terror.

One night, Omar decided to return to Zainab’s apartment. Maybe there was a clue there. He arrived at 10 PM. The door was unlocked, as if waiting for him.

He stepped inside. The air smelled foul—like stagnant water and rotting flowers. He turned on his flashlight and entered the bedroom.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him. Omar whirled around—the woman was there. Her hair was longer now, and her white dress was stained with dark patches of blood.

"Who… who are you?" Omar stammered.

The woman tilted her head, as if listening. Then she reached out a hand—and Omar saw her fingers were decaying.

"Zainab… my daughter…" the woman rasped.

Omar tried to back away, but his legs wouldn’t move. The woman lunged forward, her face inches from his. Omar squeezed his eyes shut—

### **Final Part**

The next morning, the police found Omar unconscious on the floor of Zainab’s apartment. He was alive, but his eyes were open—empty and unseeing.

At the hospital, doctors confirmed that Omar’s brain had completely shut down. He couldn’t speak, hear, or see.

But whenever someone entered his room, he would tilt his head slightly… as if listening to something.

And sometimes, late at night, the nurses would hear a woman weeping from inside his room.

**"My daughter… come back."**

[THE END]