At the edge of the village of Soonpur stood an old, abandoned mansion known as the Black Haveli. Even during the daytime, sunlight seemed afraid to touch its walls. At night, the place felt alive, breathing in silence. No bird ever perched there, no animal dared to cross its path. The elders of the village whispered that a witch lived there—one who came out after midnight and trapped travelers with her voice.
Ayesha was a young woman who had come from the city after her grandfather’s death. She did not believe in such stories. To her, these were nothing more than myths created by frightened minds.
One evening, when the electricity went out, Ayesha decided to see the Black Haveli with her own eyes. Her heart trembled, but curiosity was stronger than fear.
It was a moonlit night. As she approached the mansion, the air suddenly turned icy cold. The trees began to rustle without any wind. The door of the haveli creaked open on its own.
The moment she stepped inside, Ayesha felt a warm breath near her ear.
“So… you’ve come?”
The voice belonged to a woman, but it was rough, broken—unnatural.
Ayesha turned around, but there was no one there. Inside the haveli hung an old mirror, covered with mist. As she moved closer, her reflection began to change.
The face in the mirror was not hers.
It was a woman with long, tangled hair, hollow white eyes, and feet turned backward.
Ayesha stepped back in terror, but the door had disappeared.
Then she saw her.
A woman draped in a black sari, half of her face burned beyond recognition. Her lips were smiling—but there was no warmth in that smile.
“I have been waiting for you,” the witch said softly.
Ayesha tried to scream, but her voice was trapped in her throat.
The witch began to speak of her past. Years ago, the villagers had burned her alive. Her only crime was that she was a woman who lived alone—beautiful, silent, and feared by men who did not understand her.
“I swore an oath,” the witch whispered, “that I would call back every soul that tried to forget me.”
Suddenly, hands began to emerge from the walls—black, shadowy hands reaching toward Ayesha.
She shut her ey



Comments (1)
" Even during the daytime, sunlight seemed afraid to touch its walls." I loved this prose! definitely hooked me. "No bird ever perched there", I love birds and this line was awesome to!