Greetings. This is a story of fear and mystery that began at the end of what was meant to be a joyful holiday. My name is Ahmed.
Peter, Amit, Diljeet, and I are the four close friends at the center of this story.
Even though we come from different religious and cultural backgrounds, our friendship goes beyond those differences. Faith and tradition are not the only things that hold us together.
We are all from Pakistan, a country rich in color, diversity, and legends.
I live in Karachi, a city that never sleeps. Peter is from Sialkot. Diljeet is from Nankana Sahib, which is near Lahore, and Amit lives in Hyderabad. Our friendship started when we were young and has remained strong despite time and distance.
Our lives took different paths.
I became a private investigator. Peter started a successful business. Diljeet went into law and became a police officer, while Amit took over his family's farms. One tradition we never gave up was going on a holiday trip every December. We really value these trips.
We've visited sunny islands, deserted towns, and ancient ruins that held historical stories.
Every Christmas, there was something special, often because of Peter's mysterious ideas that made our trips exciting.
This year, I invited my friends over for tea and dinner at my house on the first day of our December trip.
After their flights, they arrived in the evening, and we hugged like brothers who hadn't seen each other in years. The room was full of delicious snacks, warm tea, and laughter as we shared updates about our lives and shared memories.
Later, Mohsin, our cook, made a hearty, comforting, and spicy meal.
We walked around the neighborhood under a peaceful sky, talking about past trips and feeling that this one needed to be different.
At that point, I had an idea.
"What if we travel deep into the Pakistani side of Jammu and Kashmir, hitchhiking through the Himalayas?" I suggested.
There was a silence.
Diljeet hesitated, but finally agreed. As we got ready to go, I noticed a small, strange bag that looked like a parachute. Before we could ask about it, he smiled and said, "Don't ask. You'll know when the time comes."
There was a history between Diljeet and me.
We were both drawn to the unknown, especially stories about the paranormal. Once, we spent nights on Karsaz Road looking for the ghostly bride, but found nothing. We even told people the story wasn't real and tried to help them stop being scared.
At least, that's what we thought back then.
But the journey ahead was about to show us that some stories aren't just myths—they wait until the right moment to come true.