The house was too quiet.
Devendra sat on the floor near the living room, knees drawn up, waiting.
The clock on the wall ticked softly, each second stretching longer than the last.
Mom should be home by now…
He glanced at the door again.
"Maybe she's still at work," he murmured to himself. "She probably left food for me."
His stomach growled.
Slowly, he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Inside, neatly placed, was a small container of rice, boiled eggs, and curry. His shoulders relaxed just a little.
She had thought about him.
He mixed everything together clumsily and began to eat, sitting at the table. Rice stuck to his cheeks. He didn't notice. He was hungry—too hungry to care.
Halfway through the meal, a strange feeling crept up his spine.
Cold.
Something cold.
A chill brushed the back of his neck.
Devendra froze, the spoon hovering mid‑air.
A hand rested lightly on his neck.
Not tight.
Not violent.
Just… there.
His breath caught.
Then a voice whispered close to his ear.
"Did you forget me?"
The spoon slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the table.
The voice wasn't loud.
It wasn't angry.
It was soft—almost amused.
A sound he knew he would never forget, no matter how long he lived.
A quiet laugh followed.
"Did you really think," the voice continued, smiling through every word,
"that if you didn't sleep tonight… you wouldn't meet me?"
The cold pressure vanished.
The kitchen felt suddenly empty.
Devendra's body remained frozen, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. He slowly turned his head.
Nothing.
No one was there.
His second bite never reached his mouth.
He placed the unfinished plate on the table with shaking hands and backed away, step by step, until he reached the corner of the kitchen. He slid down and hugged himself tightly.
Tears spilled over.
"Mom… where are you?" he sobbed. "Please come home… please…"
The house answered with silence.
---
At 7:00 PM, the front door opened.
"Devendra?" his mother called. "I'm home."
No reply.
She stepped inside, worry creeping into her voice. "Devendra?"
Still nothing.
As her footsteps moved closer to the kitchen, Devendra's breathing grew frantic. Her voice echoed again—but to him, it didn't sound right.
For a moment… it sounded like her.
Like the girl from the dream.
His hands flew to his ears.
"No… no… you took my mom," he whispered, rocking back and forth. "You're not her… you're not…"
His mother reached the kitchen doorway and stopped.
There he was.
Curled tightly in the corner, shaking, eyes wide with terror.
She dropped to her knees instantly and pulled him into her arms.
"It's me," she said desperately. "Devendra, look at me. It's your mom."
He cried harder, clinging to her shirt.
"No… you were right there," he sobbed. "She talked like you… she sounded like you…"
His mother held him tighter, her own hands trembling now.
"What's happening to you?" she whispered, voice breaking. "Why can't you recognize me?"
Devendra buried his face in her chest, shaking.
The house remained silent.
But somewhere deep inside him, the laughter still echoed.
Author's Note
Hello everyone,
How did you like it? That's all for today. I've posted four chapters for you.
Honestly… while writing this story, looking at the boy's eyes in the cover image made me genuinely scared. It felt like he might break through the screen and come straight at me.
And yes… I am writing this at 2:30 AM, so I'm still a little scared myself. This story… the things it talks about… they come from a place beyond ordinary limits.
To give you some context, when I was 16, this dream came back to me once again. That time too, I wasn't in a good state… I woke up soaked in sweat, completely shaken. It was a hot night, and yet… the fear stayed with me.
That's all for now.
— MK