When Devendra closed his eyes, the darkness did not fade.
It opened.
A cold wind brushed his face.
He stood barefoot on dry earth, the ground rough and unfamiliar beneath his feet. Above him, the moon was red—not glowing softly, but burning, as if the sky itself was wounded. The clouds were red too, stretched thin and trembling, as if they were trying to escape something.
The village lay silent.
Houses stood in uneven rows, old and crooked, built in a Nepali village style—wooden frames, slanted roofs, walls darkened by time. No lamps were lit. No smoke rose from chimneys.
Yet the village was not empty.
Figures moved slowly through the darkness.
Villagers.
They walked without sound, their heads slightly bent, their steps too even, too calm. Their faces were hard to see, but Devendra felt it—
they did not walk like normal people.
"I… I came here again?" Devendra whispered.
His voice sounded small. Younger.
He looked down at himself.
He was a child again.
Five years old.
Fear climbed up his chest like something alive.
"I don't want to be here," he said, his voice shaking. "Why am I here again?"
A familiar presence appeared beside him.
His mother.
She looked the same as always—calm face, gentle eyes—but something felt distant, like she was standing behind a thin wall of glass.
"Come," she said softly. "Let's go to our village house."
She held his hand.
Her hand was warm, and for a moment, Devendra felt safe.
They walked through narrow paths until they reached a house that looked older than the rest. The wood creaked even though no wind touched it.
Before entering, his mother stopped.
Her grip tightened.
"Listen carefully," she said, her voice low. "No matter what happens… never go into that house."
She pointed.
Across the yard stood another building—darker, heavier. Its windows were empty holes. The door looked swollen, as if it had been shut for a very long time.
Devendra nodded quickly.
"Okay, mom. I won't."
She looked at him for a long moment, as if she wanted to say more.
Then she was gone.
The village shifted.
Doors opened.
Villagers gathered around him, forming a loose circle. Their faces were clearer now—eyes dull, mouths unmoving.
One of them spoke.
"You have to go inside."
Devendra stepped back. "Inside… where?"
"That house," another voice said.
"If you don't," a third added, "the spirit inside will be freed."
His heart pounded.
"I don't want to," he whispered. "Please… I don't want to go."
No one listened.
Hands guided him forward—not rough, not gentle. Just unavoidable.
The door of the house opened by itself.
The air inside was colder.
Devendra climbed the narrow wooden stairs, each step creaking like a warning. At the top, a small open space waited. In the center stood a lamp stand.
He approached it slowly.
But when he reached out—
The lamp was gone.
In its place stood a tall mound, rising unnaturally, like something breathing beneath the floor.
Devendra froze.
Behind him—
A presence.
"No… no… she's here," he whispered. "Please… don't touch me."
The door slammed shut.
Darkness pressed in from every side.
He felt it then.
A touch.
Not sharp.
Not piercing.
But deep.
As if something cold rested against his ribs, right over his bones—
not entering, not breaking,
just touching in a way that made his body scream.
The pain wasn't loud.
It spread slowly, heavily, like pressure sinking into his chest, like his bones themselves were remembering something they weren't meant to remember.
Devendra curled into himself, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Please… please don't touch me," he cried. "I don't want that pain again. Please…"
His breath broke.
"Why… why are you touching me again?"
The pain deepened—not stronger, just closer, as if it belonged there.
And then—
Devendra screamed.
---
He woke up violently.
Tears soaked his face. His body shook as if the pain still lived inside him.
"Mom!" he cried.
She was there.
Lying beside him. Awake now.
She pulled him into her arms immediately, holding him tight.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm here. I'm right here."
His sobs slowly softened, his body still trembling as she stroked his hair.
"Nothing will happen," she said quietly. "You're safe now."
Devendra clung to her, breathing unevenly.
The pain faded.
But the memory stayed.
And somewhere far away—
Under a red moon—
The house was still waiting.