The village was called Madhupur. All around it were rice fields, with a narrow paved road running through the middle. At the very end of that road stood an abandoned house—one that no one ever talked about loudly. People only said:
"Don't look toward that house after sunset."
The building was simply known as the abandoned house, but everyone called it by one name—
The Haunted House.
Rahul first came to the village after his father died. He had left his city job to sell his father's old property. Seven years earlier, his father had suddenly left the village and moved to the city. He never returned. He would only say:
"There is something there… something that changes people."
Rahul had always thought those words were just fear.
As soon as he entered the village, Rahul noticed something strange—people stopped and stared at him, as if they wanted to say something but changed their minds.
At the tea stall he asked,
"Who owns that big house at the end of the village?"
The shopkeeper quietly placed a cup down and said,
"That house has no owner. And we are afraid even to say its name."
Rahul laughed.
"Afraid of ghosts?"
The shopkeeper looked straight at him.
"If it were ghosts, people could run away. Whatever lives there… doesn't let you escape."
That very night Rahul had a dream.
In the dream he stood in front of the house. The door was open. Someone was calling him from inside—in his own voice.
"Come inside."
He woke up at 4 a.m., drenched in sweat, his heart pounding.
The next day Rahul searched through old village records and found something disturbing.
In the past twenty years, thirteen people had disappeared.
Every one of them was last seen near the silent house.
Even worse—
One of the missing people was Rahul's uncle, Aniruddha.
His uncle had disappeared five years ago. The family thought he had run away to the city.
But the records said otherwise.
He had last been seen standing in front of that house.
Rahul made a decision.
He would go there.
No one stopped him.
Only an old man named Madhab said,
"If you go inside, you must stay the whole night. If you try to leave halfway… you won't come back."
At exactly seven in the evening, under a cloudy sky, Rahul stood in front of the house with a torch, a stick, and his phone.
The house looked unnaturally large.
The windows seemed like eyes watching him.
The door creaked as he pushed it open.
The moment he stepped inside, he realized—
The house was not empty.
The air felt heavy, as if someone would notice if he breathed.
Dust covered the floor, but there were clear footprints leading toward the stairs.
Rahul followed them slowly.
Suddenly—
BANG!
The door slammed shut.
No network on the phone.
From upstairs came the sound of footsteps.
Rahul climbed the stairs.
With every step he remembered his father's words:
"If you go there, you won't recognize yourself."
Upstairs was a large room.
In the middle stood a table.
On it lay an old notebook.
Rahul opened it.
His hands started shaking.
The first page read:
"I am Aniruddha. Third night."
Page after page.
His uncle's writing.
It said that once you entered the house, time stopped.
Outside there was day and night.
Inside there was only night.
Then Rahul read a line that froze him:
"The house chooses people. It takes the broken ones."
Suddenly the lights turned on.
Rahul turned around.
His uncle stood there.
Same face.
But empty eyes.
"You came," his uncle said.
"I knew you would."
Rahul whispered,
"Let's go home."
His uncle smiled.
"Home? This is home now."
The pictures hanging on the wall suddenly came alive.
Rahul saw the missing people.
All thirteen.
Each one had entered the house once.
His uncle whispered:
"The house cannot stay alone. Someone always has to remain."
Then a sound came from under the floor.
The walls began to move.
The house was breathing.
Rahul ran toward the door.
There was no door.
No windows.
Only walls.
His uncle's voice changed:
"Tonight is the thirteenth night. The guardian will change."
Rahul understood.
The house does not release people.
It passes them on.
Suddenly memories flooded his mind.
His father's face.
His father had come here once.
He had escaped.
But the house never let him go.
That was why he left the village.
In the end—
He lost.
The lights went out.
Then came back.
Rahul looked into a mirror.
His eyes were empty—
Just like his uncle's.
The door opened.
His uncle slowly disappeared into darkness.
Outside, the villagers saw someone new standing at the window of the silent house.
Rahul.
And in the village records—
Another name was added.