The rain had followed them all day.
Not violent.
Not stormy.
Just slow… relentless… patient.
Like the sky itself refused to let go.
Aarav sat by the car window, watching the world blur past him.
Grey roads stretched endlessly ahead. Trees stood motionless under the dull clouds. Even the distant buildings looked drained of life.
Everything felt muted.
Colorless.
Wrong.
"Almost there," his mother murmured.
Her voice carried a quiet exhaustion — heavy, worn, fragile.
Aarav nodded, though a strange unease curled inside his stomach.
He couldn't explain it.
Nothing unusual was happening.
Yet something felt…
Off.
The car turned into a narrow lane.
And Aarav's breath slowed.
The street was empty.
No children.
No voices.
No movement.
Just rain tapping softly against concrete.
Then he saw it.
The house.
It stood at the far end like a forgotten memory — tall, silent, unnaturally still.
Its faded walls were stained with time. Creepers clung to the structure like veins. The balcony leaned slightly, tired yet stubbornly standing.
And the windows…
They resembled eyes.
Dark.
Unblinking.
Watching.
Aarav swallowed.
"This is it?"
His mother forced a tired smile.
"Yes."
The iron gate groaned the moment Aarav pushed it open.
A long… dragging… metallic cry.
Too loud for such a small movement.
Inside, the air felt heavy.
Not dusty.
Heavy.
Like stepping into a room where something terrible had happened — and the memory still lingered.
Aarav stepped forward slowly.
Each footstep echoed unnaturally.
The furniture sat beneath white sheets, shapeless forms frozen in silence.
Covered objects always looked unsettling.
Too human.
Too still.
"We'll clean tomorrow," his mother said.
"I'm tired."
She disappeared toward the kitchen.
Leaving Aarav alone.
The silence immediately deepened.
It pressed against his ears.
Thick.
Unnatural.
He turned toward the staircase.
Old wood.
Dim light.
Shadows pooling between steps.
And then—
THUMP.
Aarav froze.
His heart jolted violently.
The sound had come from upstairs.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
He stared upward.
Nothing moved.
"…House settling," he whispered.
Old buildings made noises.
Science had explanations.
Science was safe.
Still…
Why did it sound like a footstep?
Slowly, Aarav climbed.
Each step creaked sharply, breaking the silence like bone snapping.
The corridor above stretched long and dim.
Doors lined both sides.
Closed.
Waiting.
The light bulb flickered weakly overhead.
Buzz.
Flicker.
Buzz.
Aarav frowned.
No storm.
No voltage issue.
Yet flickering.
Then he noticed something else.
The temperature.
Cold.
Too cold.
His breath fogged faintly.
A chill crawled along his skin.
"…Okay, that's weird."
He rubbed his arms.
One door stood slightly open.
Just a crack.
Darkness spilling through.
"I didn't open that…"
His voice sounded unnaturally small.
Swallowed by the hallway.
He pushed the door gently.
CREEEEAAAK.
The sound echoed like it traveled far deeper than the room.
Inside, the air turned freezing.
Sharp.
Biting.
The room was nearly empty.
Except—
An old mirror.
Tall.
Cracked.
Resting against the wall.
And scratches.
Deep claw marks scarred the surface beside it.
Uneven.
Violent.
Desperate.
Aarav's pulse quickened.
"What the hell…"
Slowly…
He lifted his gaze to the mirror.
His reflection stared back.
Pale.
Uneasy.
Still.
Then—
Something shifted.
Behind him.
Inside the reflection.
A dark shape.
Tall.
Distorted.
Impossible.
Aarav spun around.
Nothing.
Empty room.
Silent air.
He turned back.
The shape remained.
Standing behind his reflection.
Unmoving.
Watching.
Aarav's chest tightened.
Fear surged violently.
The figure leaned forward.
And smiled.
A crack split across the mirror.
Then another.
TIK… TIK… TIK…
Like something tapping from inside.
Suddenly—
SMASHHHHH!!
The mirror exploded.
Glass shattered violently across the room.
Aarav stumbled backward, crashing onto the floor.
His heart pounded uncontrollably.
But the room…
The room was silent again.
Empty.
And somewhere inside the house…
Something had awakened.