December 25th, Wednesday…
Today, Khurshid brought me a dress—dull black in color. A somber, off-the-shoulder gown, long enough to brush against my toes, heavy in presence. I am absolutely certain I have never seen a dress like it before. Despite my memory loss, I know this much with unwavering conviction—I have never seen anything like it.
I was forced to wear it reluctantly. He told me that tonight they would be preparing for a grand celebration—an annual gathering held for certain rituals belonging to his family. I did not care to know the details. I preferred to experience the event with the same dull apathy I live with daily within the walls of this palace.
All I know is that the celebration will be massive. Every member of the family, near and distant, will attend. There will also be a large barbecue. I hate gatherings… did I hate them before I lost my memory as well?
I wore the dress, carefully styled my hair, and put on the jewelry—which, incidentally, consisted of a silver necklace with a pendant resembling a miniature human skull, and a large ring shaped like a skull as well. I no longer care for such minor details. What I am living through here would drive the sanest mind into the depths of madness.
Soft knocks echoed from outside my door. Irritated, I allowed the visitor to enter. A chilling, unsettling astonishment struck me as Khurshid peeked in, asking permission to come inside.
He looked like Count Dracula.
His hair was sleek and polished, his lips darkened, his black suit accented with streaks of red, and the cloak trailing behind him in a terrifying manner. The dark shadows around his eyes—everything about him mirrored exactly how the legends depict Count Dracula.
My God… dizziness overwhelmed me from sheer fear. I could no longer endure what I was witnessing. Khurshid approached me slowly, savoring my terrified state. Finally, he decided to show mercy by telling me it was merely a costume party—nothing more—and that there was no need for fear.
Even so, I found no comfort. I feel that something ominous will happen tonight.
My heart feels like the wing of an aged mosquito—too frail to fly.
He took my hand, placing his other behind his back, escorting me downstairs in a grand manner. Before all the guests, and before we had descended even a single step, he dropped to one knee and kissed my hand with refined politeness. His lips were cold—as if they had just emerged from snow. I paid no attention to any of it. I was trapped in my own world, now filled entirely with fear and dread.
As we approached the gathering, my terror deepened. They were all women—every single one of them—wearing the same dress, identical in detail and black in color. Their makeup was heavy, dark. Their skin pale, as though death itself had passed through them, leaving behind nothing but wandering spirits between two worlds.
An overwhelming negative energy saturated the air. The music emanating from the antique gramophone was strange—as if it were being played for jinn. I could not describe it, no matter how hard I tried.
All of them turned to look at me at the same moment—their gazes sharp, piercing. I stepped backward slowly, my eyes locked onto them, until I collided with someone behind me.
I turned cautiously, tension devouring me from within. It was Maria, the maid, staring at me with wide, disapproving eyes at my instinctive reaction. In her marble-like voice, she whispered:
"Where are you going? The celebration hasn't begun yet. It is improper for you to leave now… you are its lady."
I did not understand what she meant, nor did I ask for clarification. Has anyone ever explained anything to me before?
I was forced to remain—taking on the role of a spectator reading an utterly horrifying novel.
Then, the rituals began.
Screams erupted from all of them as they raised their arms and heads upward in unison, staring at the ceiling in a bizarre manner. The sound disturbed me deeply. I covered my ears in a desperate attempt to block out as much of the deafening noise as possible.
The music surged again—more violent than before. They began to dance in hysteria and madness. I tried to distance myself, retreating into a corner, alone and terrified.
That was when I noticed something strange.
One of the women… her foot—it resembled that of a goat.
I approached cautiously to confirm what I had seen. My body trembled uncontrollably. I grabbed her dress and lifted it—
Her feet were indeed like those of a goat.
She did not tolerate my intrusion. Amid my hysterical screams, she hurled me away violently, roaring with a sound akin to a lion's. I crashed to the ground, curling into myself, trembling. Someone tried to touch me—perhaps to calm me—but my nerves could not withstand such intensity. I lost consciousness.
"Asia…"
A voice from hell called my name.
I spun around in terror, screaming, demanding to know who was calling me—but the voice only repeated my name.
I tried to run, but realized I was trapped in a room no larger than a meter by a meter, walls enclosing me from all sides. Darkness consumed everything. Fragmented laughter—filled with malice and cruelty—echoed endlessly.
I screamed, pleading at times, threatening at others.
Then I felt hot breath against the back of my neck.
I turned with all my strength—
It was her.
The same woman whose legs I had uncovered—but now her face was blackened, repulsive. She smelled like a grave. Her eyes glowed red, and she laughed wickedly, savoring my terror.
It was only a nightmare.
I awoke with difficulty, drenched in sweat. My breaths were rapid, uneven. My heart pounded violently.
The same scene—
Khurshid beside me. His mother, his sister, his aunt, and the maid forming a semicircle around my bed.
He injected that cursed sedative into my veins.
I shouted in anger:
"Not now… wait! That woman—she has legs like a goat! All of them do! Believe me—this time I am absolutely certain!"
Before I succumbed to the sedative, Mrs. Nazli opened the door, allowing the woman with the goat legs to enter. Calmly, she lifted her dress—
Her legs were completely normal.
What a shock.
What is happening to me? Everything around me is driving me toward madness.
Hours later, I awoke to find Maria standing by my bedside—motionless, like a statue. I opened my eyes slowly as her cold voice reached me:
"Come. Let us go downstairs. The best part of the celebration is about to begin."
I asked foolishly, my throat dry:
"And what is the best part?"
She looked at me sharply but did not answer.
I had no choice but to obey. I fear her deeply.
We descended the stairs quietly, cautiously. The hall was empty. I turned to ask her why, but she answered before I could speak:
"In the courtyard."
What courtyard, you wretched woman? If only I could strike you and be rid of this suffocating restraint.
A massive table stood there, surrounded by many—again, all women. This time, however, their attire was different. A deep, muted purple dominated the scene—staining their lips, cheeks, and eyelids with unsettling intensity. Strange hats crowned their heads—witch-like in appearance.
I approached carefully.
At the head of the table sat Mrs. Nazli. Khurshid stood to her left, his sister Shams to her right. Opposite them was Aunt Fekria, with the others arranged around.
Khurshid stepped forward to escort me. I moved beside him slowly, my patience worn thin by this family's strangeness.
Then—
A revolting stench assaulted me.
Its source: a dead lion, rotting upon the table. Its body was bloated, worms emerging from small openings in its flesh.
I staggered backward, suffocating. Khurshid tried to pull me closer, but I resisted. Maria pushed me from behind, forcing me back into place.
I stood frozen.
Was this another nightmare?
They raised their glasses in unison—
Filled with blood.
They drank, staining their teeth crimson as laughter filled the air.
I remained as I was—paralyzed.
Mrs. Nazli spoke, her voice cold, emerging from deep within:
"These rituals are the symbol of our great family. Each year, this day becomes a magnificent legend among us… I will not prolong my speech. Let us begin the final ritual."
She summoned the gardener to carry the rotting corpse, declaring it would be tonight's meal. Then she invited everyone to gather around the fire to enjoy the spectacle.
I vomited violently.
At that moment, I decided—I must escape.
I grabbed a large stone and threatened them: anyone who came near me would lose their eyes.
I ran.
Toward the great gate—left wide open for the occasion.
I fled into the forest, my feet racing against the wind. Every path looked identical. The same trees repeating endlessly.
Are they truly identical… or have I lost the ability to distinguish?
I do not know.
All I know is that I ran until exhaustion consumed me. I collapsed beneath a tree, struggling to catch my breath.
Sleep overcame me.
In the morning, I awoke—heavy-lidded, struggling to see clearly.
And then—
Damn it.
I was back in my black room.
I screamed. Khurshid rushed in.
I muttered rapidly:
"The party… dancing… the fire… the forest!"
He tried to calm me, assuring me I would be fine—that it was merely the medication causing these hallucinations.
Of course, he would endure me to his last drop of blood—he claims he loves me.
Then my eyes fell upon the date hanging on the wall.
December 28th.
Three days—
Three days had vanished from my life once again.