The road to Blackwood Village was almost empty by the time Meera arrived. The sky was heavy with dark clouds, and the wind carried a strange chill, even though it was supposed to be summer. Her taxi driver refused to go any further once they reached the old iron gate at the end of the road.
"This is far enough," he said nervously. "No one stays there for long."
Meera forced a small laugh, pretending she didn't notice the fear in his eyes. She stepped out with her suitcase and watched the taxi disappear into the fog. For a moment, the world felt too quiet.
In front of her stood the house her grandmother had left behind — tall, silent, and covered in creeping vines. The windows were dark, like hollow eyes watching her every move. She hadn't visited since she was a child. Back then, she remembered laughter. Warm lights. The smell of old books and incense.
Now, it felt different.
The gate creaked loudly as she pushed it open. The sound echoed through the empty yard like a warning. Dry leaves crunched under her shoes as she walked toward the front door. With trembling fingers, she unlocked it.
The door opened slowly.
A cold gust of air rushed past her, as if the house had just exhaled.
Inside, everything was coated in dust. The furniture was still there, covered with white sheets that looked like silent ghosts. The grandfather clock in the hallway stood frozen at exactly 3:00 AM.
Meera swallowed.
"Just old memories," she whispered to herself.
She turned on her phone flashlight and stepped inside. The wooden floor creaked beneath her weight. The air smelled damp, like something had been trapped there for years.
As she walked deeper into the house, she heard it.
A faint sound.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
She froze.
It was coming from upstairs.
Her heart began to pound. She told herself it was just loose wood, or maybe a branch hitting a window. But the tapping was steady. Rhythmic. Almost… intentional.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The sound stopped suddenly.
The silence that followed felt heavier than the noise itself.
Meera slowly looked up toward the staircase. The darkness above seemed thicker, like it was alive. For a second, she thought she saw something move at the top step — a shadow shifting where there should be none.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"Hello?" she called softly.
No answer.
She knew she should wait until morning. She knew it would be smarter to leave. But something inside her — curiosity or stubbornness — pushed her forward.
Step by step, she climbed the stairs.
Each step groaned beneath her feet. Halfway up, the air grew colder. She could see her breath now. That wasn't possible. Not in summer.
When she reached the top, the hallway stretched before her, lined with closed doors. At the very end was her grandmother's old bedroom.
And it was slightly open.
A thin line of darkness peeked through the gap.
Meera felt a sudden pressure in her ears, like the house was listening.
Then she heard it again.
This time, it wasn't tapping.
It was a whisper.
Soft.
Close.
Right behind her.
"Why did you come back?"