The house had been empty for twenty years.
It stood at the far end of the village, beyond the broken well and the dead banyan tree, where even stray dogs refused to wander after sunset. The paint had peeled off long ago, leaving the wooden walls exposed like rotting skin. Windows stared blankly into the world, dusty and cracked, as if the house itself had gone blind.
Arjun stood in front of it with a single suitcase in his hand.
He told himself he didn't believe in ghost stories.
His grandfather had died three weeks ago, leaving this house as the only inheritance. No money. No land. Just this forgotten structure filled with silence.
The villagers had tried to warn him.
"Don't stay there," old Mr. Ghosh had whispered. "Some doors are meant to stay locked."
Arjun had laughed.
Now, as the sun disappeared behind the trees and shadows swallowed the house whole, that laughter felt weak.
He pushed the front door open.
It creaked loudly, the sound echoing unnaturally through the empty hallway. Dust floated in the air like restless spirits disturbed from sleep.
The smell hit him first — damp wood, mold, and something metallic underneath.
Something faintly like blood.
He shook the thought away.
The hallway stretched long and narrow, ending in darkness. On the right side were two bedrooms. On the left, a staircase leading up. And at the very end…
A door.
Different from the others.
He noticed it immediately.
Unlike the peeling brown paint of the rest of the house, this door was darker. Almost black. Its surface looked newer, smoother, as if someone had replaced it years ago.
A thick rusted lock hung from its handle.
Arjun stepped closer without thinking.
For a moment, the air felt colder there.
He reached out and touched the door.
Ice cold.
A strange sensation crawled up his arm — like static electricity under his skin.
He quickly pulled his hand back.
"Just an old house," he muttered to himself.
He chose the bedroom closest to the entrance. It felt safer. Closer to escape.
By the time he finished cleaning a small space and laying down his bedsheet, night had fallen completely.
The village outside was silent.
Too silent.
No insects. No dogs barking.
Nothing.
Arjun lay down, staring at the cracked ceiling.
He checked his phone.
3:16 AM.
He didn't remember falling asleep.
A second later—
Knock.
His eyes snapped open.
He froze.
The sound wasn't loud. It wasn't violent.
It was soft.
Gentle.
Knock.
It came from somewhere inside the house.
Arjun held his breath.
Maybe wood expanding. Old houses make sounds.
Knock. Knock.
This time it was clearer.
It was coming from the hallway.
Slowly, he sat up.
The room felt colder.
His phone screen flickered and died, even though it had been half-charged.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Then—
A whisper.
So soft he almost thought it was in his head.
"…Arjun…"
His heart slammed against his ribs.
No.
No one knew he was here tonight.
"…Arjun…"
It came again.
From the end of the corridor.
From the locked room.
His mouth went dry.
He forced himself to stand.
"This is stupid," he whispered. "You're imagining things."
But his legs were already moving.
Step by step, he walked toward the hallway.
The wooden floor creaked under his weight.
The darkness felt thick, pressing against his skin.
He could see the faint outline of the black door at the end.
And then—
Knock.
This time it came from the other side of that door.
Three slow taps.
Like someone politely asking to be let out.
Arjun's breathing became shallow.
He told himself to turn back.
To go outside.
To leave.
Instead, he moved closer.
The temperature dropped with every step.
His breath became visible in the air.
"…cold…" the whisper murmured.
Arjun stopped inches away from the door.
The lock was still hanging there.
Still rusted.
Still closed.
"…so cold… Arjun…"
His name sounded wrong in that voice.
Stretched.
Broken.
"Who's there?" he demanded, trying to sound brave.
Silence.
Then—
A soft chuckle.
Not human.
Not completely.
The door trembled slightly.
The lock rattled.
Arjun stumbled backward.
"No," he breathed.
The whisper changed.
It was no longer soft.
It was desperate.
"Open… the door…"
Bang.
Something hit the door from inside.
Hard.
The walls vibrated.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Arjun's ears rang.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The lock shook violently now.
The metal groaned as if under immense pressure.
And then—
Everything stopped.
Dead silence.
The cold vanished instantly.
The hallway felt normal again.
Arjun stood frozen, sweat dripping down his back.
Had he imagined it?
Slowly, carefully, he stepped forward.
The lock hung still.
Not moving.
He leaned closer to inspect it.
That's when he noticed something.
The rust.
It wasn't rust.
It was fresh.
Dark red.
Liquid.
Dripping slowly from the keyhole.
Arjun staggered back in horror.
A thin line of blood traced down the door.
And beneath it—
Scratched into the wood.
Three words.
HELP ME INSIDE.
Arjun's pulse pounded in his ears.
This wasn't possible.
He hadn't seen that before.
He was sure.
Suddenly—
A loud slam came from behind him.
He spun around.
The front door had shut on its own.
Wind howled outside, though moments ago the night had been still.
The lights flickered—
Even though there was no electricity in the house.
For a brief second, the hallway lit up in pale white light.
And in that flash—
He saw it.
A shadow standing behind the black door.
Tall.
Unnaturally thin.
Its head tilted sideways.
Watching him through the wood.
The light went out.
Darkness returned.
Arjun's breathing turned ragged.
He backed away slowly.
"I'm leaving," he whispered.
As he turned—
The whisper came again.
But this time, it wasn't from the locked room.
It was right behind him.
"Don't."
Something cold touched his shoulder.
He screamed and spun around—
Nothing.
But the black door…
The lock had fallen to the floor.
The door was slightly open.
Just a crack.
Darkness leaked from inside like smoke.
And from that darkness—
A single pale hand slowly reached out.
Long fingers.
Too long.
Arjun couldn't move.
His body refused to respond.
The hand gripped the edge of the door.
Pulling it wider.
A voice, now clear and close, whispered:
"You came back… just like before."
Arjun's mind went blank.
Before?
What did it mean before?
He had never been here as a child.
Had he?
Suddenly—
A sharp pain exploded inside his head.
Flashes.
Memories.
A younger version of himself standing in this same hallway.
Crying.
His grandfather dragging something heavy across the floor.
Blood.
Screaming from inside the locked room.
"You promised," the voice hissed.
The pale hand shot forward—
And grabbed his wrist.
Ice shot through his veins.
Arjun gasped as he was pulled toward the darkness.
The last thing he saw—
Inside the room—
Were dozens of scratch marks covering the walls.
And words written over and over again:
HE LOCKED US IN.
The door slammed shut.
And the whisper stopped.
Outside, the village remained silent.
As if nothing had happened.
But inside the house—
Something had finally been released.