A night full of storm
The kind where the sky cries loud and long, and even the trees seem to shiver.
Thunder crashed outside. Rain tapped violently on the windows. Ahaan sat curled up in bed, the book shut tight beside him. No candle tonight. No cases.
He just wanted one normal night.
Then… there was a knock.
At the front door.
Knock… knock… knock…
Slow. Soft.
He froze.
It was 2:47 a.m.
Everyone was asleep.
Who knocks at that hour?
He waited, holding his breath.
Knock… knock…
Again.
This time, followed by a soft, shaky voice.
"H-hello? I'm lost… I need help…"
Ahaan tiptoed to the window.
There, at the gate, was a girl.
She stood barefoot in the rain.
Hair soaking wet. Face pale. A red school uniform clinging to her shivering frame.
She looked… maybe his age. Maybe younger.
She looked cold. Scared.
Too human to be anything else.
Almost.
His heart said, Open the door.
His mind said, Something's wrong.
He turned to the book. It had opened itself.
Even without the candle.
The page glowed dark blue.
CASE EIGHT:
"The Girl in the Rain"
She looks real. She feels lost. She sounds human.
But if you let her in… she takes your place in the world.
And you vanish — like you never existed.
Ahaan stepped back from the window.
He looked again.
The girl was still there. Crying now.
"Please," she whispered. "I don't want to die alone."
His fingers trembled.
He backed away from the door.
Suddenly—
BANG! BANG!
She was pounding now.
The door shook under her fists.
"Let me in, Ahaan."
"You have to let me in."
"You owe me."
His blood ran cold.
How did she know his name?
He ran to the candle and lit it.
The flame turned black.
The book flipped violently.
"If she speaks your name, she's already partway inside.
Don't speak.
Don't answer.
Don't look her in the eyes."
Ahaan heard the door creak slightly.
He ran to it.
There was a narrow crack. She had pushed it half open.
And now… she stood right at the edge.
Hair covering her face.
Water dripping from her fingertips.
But her feet weren't touching the ground.
They floated.
Just a little.
She raised her head.
And Ahaan finally saw her face.
And it was his sister's face.
But wrong.
Too wide.
Too smooth.
The eyes? Completely black.
The mouth? Crooked. As if it had been torn into a smile.
She whispered, "Don't you recognize your own blood?"
He screamed and slammed the door shut with all his strength.
Locked it.
Pushed a chair against it.
Then ran back to his room, heart thudding like a drum.
The book glowed red.
One more sentence appeared.
"She's not trying to get in… she's trying to get you out."
He froze.
Suddenly, from outside, her voice turned playful.
Sweet.
"Ahaan? I left something outside. A gift. You'll want to see it."
He didn't move.
Then… a second voice joined her.
His mother's voice.
"Ahaan, beta, open the door… there's a girl here. She needs help."
His hands shook.
But he knew the truth.
His mother never called him beta in the middle of the night.
And both voices came from the same mouth.
The candle flickered.
The room went dim.
He picked up the book and whispered, "What do I do?"
Another page flipped.
"The rain girl can't enter a house with truth.
She feeds on lies and fear.
Write your name. Say who you are.
Seal your place in this world."
Ahaan grabbed a pen.
Tore a piece of paper.
Wrote:
"I am Ahaan. I belong to this life. I am not forgotten."
He placed it on the candle flame and let it burn.
Smoke filled the room — not gray, but golden.
Outside, the knocking stopped.
A long silence followed.
Then — a soft weeping.
Fading into nothing.
Morning came.
Sunlight broke through the clouds.
He ran to the front door.
Opened it.
No girl.
Just a puddle.
With tiny, bare footprints walking away…
…and no end to them.
Later that day, while flipping through the book, a small folded note dropped out.
Ahaan opened it.
The handwriting was messy. Slanted. Wet.
"I knocked on every door.
Everyone ignored me.
So I became what the rain needed.
Someone who never gets forgotten."
Chills went down his spine.
He knew one thing for sure:
She would be back.
Then.....