Episode 3: The House That Bled
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The rain hadn't stopped in three days.
Not the normal kind of rain. This rain was thick… tainted… red. It clung to the windowpanes like blood smeared by unseen hands. Every drop painted the streets of Lakhnagar crimson, like the town itself was bleeding.
ACP Arjun Rawat stood at the threshold of the oldest house in the town — the Brijraj Mansion. It had been abandoned for decades, ever since the fire that had killed the entire Sharma family in 1993. And now, after seventeen years, it was somehow alive again. Lights flickered inside, though no electricity ran to it. Screams had been reported the night before. A boy named Aman was found outside the gates — eyes open, body frozen stiff, heart not beating but still warm. Doctors couldn't explain it.
Neither could Arjun.
He stepped inside with his torch, the creak of the wooden door echoing like a scream in the dead silence. The floor was slick with wet red footprints — bare feet, small like a child's, leading into the darkness.
He whispered to himself, "Yeh kaise ho sakta hai…"
Suddenly, a loud THUD echoed upstairs.
Arjun raised his pistol and moved forward, following the footprints up the stairs. As he reached the landing, the air turned colder — unnaturally cold. He saw fog escaping his lips as he exhaled, like he had walked into a freezer. The walls up here were covered in black handprints, and on one door, the word "MUKTI" was scratched in deep gashes, dripping fresh red liquid — it wasn't paint.
He pushed the door open.
Inside was a room with old children's toys scattered around, a rocking chair that rocked on its own, and a small diary on the floor. Arjun picked it up.
"29th June, 1993.
He watches us from the walls. He wants to be our brother. He says he'll play with us forever. He likes when it rains… and he says the red rain means he's close. Mummy says don't talk to him. But he comes anyway. Even when we close our eyes."
Suddenly, the diary burst into flames in his hand. He dropped it and backed away. The flames died immediately — no smoke, no ash, just… gone.
Then the whisper came, not from behind him… but from inside his own mind.
"Why did you come back, Arjun...?"
He froze.
He hadn't told anyone.
He was one of the few who had survived the original fire — when he was only 10. But he never remembered what he saw that night.
Until now.
Behind him, the rocking chair stopped.
The red rain began to pour harder — but only over the house.
The air was filled with a low hum — not from outside, but from the walls, like the house itself was alive and breathing. Arjun turned around slowly, and in the mirror hanging on the wall, he didn't see himself.
He saw a smiling boy with hollow black eyes, standing behind him, blood dripping from his mouth.
Then —
The lights went out.
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To Be Continued...