Where shadows breath

The year was 2010. I was in class 9 at the time and was only 16 years old. Fear was something I didn't really understand at this age. Every year, our village of Durgapuja celebrated with great enthusiasm. One of the highlights for me was the cultural programmes held at our school during the festival - full of music, drama and dance. I especially loved watching these shows at night.

There was no difference that night either. I went to the program with my best friend and, as usual, without realizing it. I started going one after another. Finally my friend went to his father's, but I stayed a little longer to enjoy the performance until the very end. I didn't know that "a little longer" would be the most frightening night of my life.

Our school was quite far from my house so it took about 30 minutes to get back. The street was calm, sandwiched between thick bushes and tall trees. When I went it was past midnight. The village slept. The only noise was sometimes insects, far from the jackal.

I was a little nervous and went alone, but I tried to act with courage. There were no streetlights or vehicles - there were only sounds of my own footprints on the street.

When I came to the house it was about 2am on the main road. It was tall and had an old palm - I've heard of it since I was a child. People always said that the tree was haunted as something strange happened at night. I really didn't believe in these stories.

Until that night.

From afar, I noticed someone leaned against a tree. Their appearance was quiet - there were no complicated movements. At first I felt a strange sense of relief. "Yeah, it's just someone from the village," I thought. When there was another person nearby, I felt a bit safe.

But when I approached, I felt something was wrong... wrong. Their appearance seemed easily blurred. It wasn't just darkness - as if he had vanished into the night air like crap.

I Frozen.

The coldness of the trees raw my spine. My legs felt heavy. My mouth was dry. I blinked and tried to look clearly at the figure, but I couldn't see my face. It was ambiguous and shady shape that mostly interfered with the tree.

No sound. There is no wind. Even the grill stopped the chirp chirp. It seemed the whole world was silent.

I took another step forward - and before my eyes, my appearance disappeared.

It was there for a moment. Next... apart.

But I know what I saw. Someone was standing there.

I slowly approached the tree. There was no one there, but the floor below was damp recently as if someone was there.

, and -

I felt it.

The soft, cold breath in my ears, as if someone was standing right behind me and exhaling slowly. An icy wind passing by the side of my neck. My skin was discovered in fear.

I couldn't hold it anymore. I turned around and ran - my life wandered around. I didn't look back. I reached the house and hit the door behind me and fell on my bed. I didn't tell anyone what I saw. I was pulling the blanket over myself and trying to sleep.

The next morning I woke up before a fever. 103 degrees. My mother asked what had happened, and I just said: , but I knew well.

Not only was it cold that night, it was a hit.

Even today, years later, I remember the way the shadows stood under the tree, the way he disappeared, the way he sucked my neck. I don't know if it's a ghost or something else, but I've never missed this tree again at night.

Some stories are more than just stories.

Some shadows never go.