The Wronged Ghost

The Wronged Ghost

In the middle of a vast open field outside a small town stood a massive gray fortress. No one dared to enter it. Everyone knew the castle was haunted, even though it was also known that no living person resided within its walls. At night, faint, frightened voices echoed from its deserted halls. Occasionally, flames burst from the chimneys, forming the shape of a fiery ghost that rose into the dark sky and vanished.

Many brave adventurers had tried to capture or control the spirit, but by morning they were found dead, seated in the largest hall before the fireplace, which always contained cold ashes instead of fire.

At the start of winter, a cheerful and fearless peddler named Istaban arrived in the nearby town. While selling utensils in the marketplace, women told him frightening tales about the haunted castle. They said that on cold nights, ghostly flames rose from the chimneys and that anyone who approached could hear a mournful voice.

Laughing, Istaban replied, “I am known as Istaban the Brave. I fear neither humans nor ghosts—only God. I would gladly spend the night in the castle and comfort that suffering soul.” The women stared in shock, then told him that if anyone succeeded in driving away the ghost, the castle owner would reward him with one thousand gold coins.

Delighted, Istaban decided he would surely spend the night in the castle. Being fond of food, he asked the townspeople to provide firewood, marinated meat, a jug of water, twelve eggs, and a griddle. At sunset, he loaded everything onto his donkey and headed toward the fortress.

Inside the dark hall, bats fluttered overhead. Istaban lit a fire in the hearth, feeling its warmth drive away both cold and fear. He began roasting meat when a weak voice echoed from the chimney, “Oh, I am dying… I am dead.”

Unfazed, Istaban drank water and joked that at least the voice sounded human. The voice came again, trembling, “Catch me—I am falling.” Suddenly, a human leg dropped from the chimney. Soon another followed. Istaban calmly continued cooking.

One by one, the body parts fell—legs, arms, torso, and finally a head with long black hair and lifeless eyes. Before him stood a complete ghost. Istaban greeted it politely and even offered food.

The ghost said, “You are the first person who did not die of fear while watching my body reassemble. Others were terrified to death.” Istaban replied simply, “Perhaps they did not bring food or firewood.”

The ghost then pleaded for help. Beneath a banyan tree in the courtyard, three sacks were buried—copper, silver, and gold coins. He had looted them in life but was betrayed and murdered by his companions. He asked Istaban to give the copper to the place of worship, the silver to the poor, and keep the gold for himself so his soul might find peace.

Istaban agreed. The ghost dug up the sacks and asked Istaban to remove the clothes clinging to his body. As soon as he did, the ghost vanished, leaving the clothes behind.

By morning, townspeople arrived expecting to find Istaban dead. Instead, they found him frying eggs cheerfully. He told them the ghost was gone forever and took his reward. True to his word, he donated the coins and used the gold to build a school for the town’s children He told them the ghost was gone forever and took his reward. True to his word, he donated the coins and used the gold to build a school for the town’s children

Thus, courage, kindness, and wisdom freed a wronged soul—and transformed a haunted castle into a place of hope.