For twenty-five long years, the "Spiritual Bungalow" had stood alone, abandoned, and feared.
No one dared to enter.
Those who did—never returned alive. Even animals that strayed too close were found lifeless the next day, their bodies twisted in unnatural ways. The villagers, gripped by superstition and fear, had abandoned the houses around it, creating a silent, desolate stretch of land that seemed cursed.
And yet… someone had come to live there.
It was early evening. The dying sunlight bathed the walls of the bungalow in a blood-red glow. A man stood at the rusted gates, clutching a small bag in one trembling hand. His face was slick with sweat, his nervous fingers pulling a handkerchief from his pocket over and over again. Every few seconds, he would glance at the darkened windows of the house, then look away as though afraid they might be looking back at him.
He waited.
The sound of an approaching engine broke the heavy stillness. A sleek, black car rolled to a stop in front of him. The man's eyes widened—this was the new tenant.
He rushed forward, bowing slightly as he opened the door.
From the car stepped a young woman—no more than twenty-one. Her skin was pale like moonlight, her dark blue eyes shimmering with a quiet confidence. Her long black hair was twisted into a bun, yet a few strands fell across her face, framing it perfectly. She wore a golden outfit that caught the last rays of the sun, making her seem almost unreal.
"Madam, let me take your luggage," the man stammered, his voice unsteady.
"Alright," she said softly, her tone calm but firm.
He opened the trunk, struggling slightly as he pulled out a large, heavy suitcase, setting it near the gate. She took a step toward the bungalow but then paused, turning back to the driver still seated in the car.
"You can go," she told him with a polite smile. "I'll be fine from here."
The driver hesitated, glanced toward the house, then nodded quickly and drove away without a word.
The man with the suitcase shuffled nervously. "Madam… I'm just a broker. I have… other work to attend to. Here—take the key." His hand shook as he pressed the cold metal into her palm.
Before she could respond, he turned and almost ran down the road, not even glancing back.
She frowned. What's wrong with him?
Shaking her head, she lifted her suitcase and turned to face the bungalow. The massive wooden door loomed before her, its paint peeling, its brass handle cold under her fingers. She inserted the key, twisting until the old lock gave way with a heavy click.
The moment the door creaked open, a flurry of movement burst from the darkness—dozens of bats screeched as they shot past her, their wings brushing against her hair and shoulders. She instinctively ducked, covering her head until the last of them vanished into the evening sky.
Letting out a shaky breath, she stepped inside.
The interior surprised her. Though dust coated the furniture and cobwebs clung to the corners, the place still held a faded elegance, like a grand home frozen in time. Marble floors stretched beneath her feet, and a chandelier hung above—its crystals dull with years of neglect.
Her stomach growled. She placed her bag by the wall and muttered to herself, "I haven't eaten all day. Let's see where the kitchen is."
But finding it was another matter entirely. The bungalow was like a maze—endless corridors that led to unfamiliar rooms, staircases that seemed to twist in the wrong direction. By the time she finally located the kitchen, the sky outside was black and the moon hung low.
From her bag, she pulled out a packet of instant noodles. The gas stove coughed and hissed before finally coming to life, filling the kitchen with the faint smell of rusted metal. She set the noodles to boil… when she heard it.
Footsteps.
Quick. Light. Running somewhere inside the house.
She froze.
Slowly, she stepped out of the kitchen and followed the sound, her breath shallow. The trail led to a half-open door. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it wider—
A black cat leapt out, hissing. She stumbled backward, her head smacking against the wall. The cat darted past her and vanished into the shadows.
With a shaky laugh, she muttered, "I'm really this scared of a cat?"
Returning to the kitchen, she found the smell of burnt food thick in the air. Her noodles were ruined, the pot blackened. Worse— the gas pipe had been pulled loose from the cylinder.
She froze.
Someone—or something—had done this.
She quickly turned off the regulator. At that moment, thunder cracked overhead, and rain began to hammer the roof. The lights flickered… and died, plunging the house into complete darkness.
Her phone's glow barely lit the way as she searched for the power supply. She found the inverter switch and flicked it on, casting a dim yellow light over the hallway.
Setting her phone on the table, she went to pour herself some water—only to stop in horror.
The water in the glass was pitch black.
Before she could process this, a piercing scream echoed from upstairs—a woman's scream, raw with terror.
Her heart pounded.
There shouldn't be anyone else in the house.
She grabbed a kitchen knife and climbed the stairs, each creak of the wood sounding like a warning. She reached the door where the cry had come from and pushed it open.
Blood.
Everywhere.
A black cat lay in pieces across the floor, its lifeless eyes staring. It was the same one that had jumped at her earlier. Her grip on the knife faltered, and she stumbled backward, fleeing down the hallway.
Something was following her—she could feel it.
Then, all light vanished.
She tripped, falling hard down the stairs, pain shooting through her leg. Blood seeped through the torn fabric of her pants. Crawling toward the table, she reached for her phone—only to find it dead.
Her breathing grew ragged. Strange whispers curled around her ears, too faint to understand, too close to ignore.
Lightning split the sky outside, illuminating the living room for just a heartbeat—
And she saw it.
A shadow.
A girl's figure… but wrong. Her head was severed, dangling unnaturally, blood pouring from the torn flesh. Deep cuts marred her pale face, her eyes bulging as if frozen in a final scream.
The next flash of lightning showed her closer—too close.
A scream tore from her throat—
And then, silence.
When the light returned, the figure was gone… or rather, it was inside her.
Her eyes were now pools of black, her skin pale as snow. Her hair had fallen loose, framing a face now marked with the spirit's wounds. Her chest rose and fell with slow, heavy breaths… and her lips curled into a cold, unfamiliar smile.
---
Six Months Earlier
Engines roared on a crowded street. A bike race was in full swing—riders leaning low as they tore through the winding track.
One biker, clad in black, was gaining ground fast. Her movements were smooth, confident, and dangerously precise. One by one, she overtook the others, leaving them in the dust.
She crossed the finish line first, skidding to a perfect stop.
When she removed her helmet, the crowd gasped.
It was a girl.
The same girl who now stood, possessed, in the haunted bungalow.