The Cursed Village

In the heart of an ancient forest, hidden from the eyes of the world, lay the village of Vardhpur. Isolated and surrounded by thick, whispering trees, the village carried an eerie silence that even the wind dared not disturb. Legends spoke of an old curse, a darkness that had settled over the land for centuries. The villagers, bound by tradition and fear, practiced black magic to appease the unseen forces that ruled over them.

Amidst this darkness lived the Sharma family—Ravi, his wife Meera, and their young son Aryan. They were outsiders, having moved to Vardhpur only a year ago, unaware of the village’s sinister past. At first, everything seemed normal, but as time passed, strange occurrences began to unfold. Shadows moved without light, whispers echoed through empty streets, and animals would vanish, leaving behind only charred remains.

Ravi, a schoolteacher, dismissed these as superstitions, but Meera felt an unnatural presence in their home. One night, as she put Aryan to sleep, she saw an old woman standing outside their window, her eyes glowing like embers. The woman whispered in an ancient tongue, and the candles in their house flickered wildly before going out. That was the night Meera knew something was terribly wrong.

Determined to uncover the truth, Ravi sought out an elder named Bhairav, who had lived in the village since birth. Bhairav hesitated before speaking, his voice barely a whisper. “The villagers… they offer sacrifices to the shadows to keep the curse at bay. You must leave before it’s too late.”

Fear gripped Ravi’s heart. That night, he overheard a gathering in the village square. Hidden in the shadows, he watched as the villagers chanted around a massive bonfire, their faces contorted in trance. In the flames, he saw something unholy—figures writhing and twisting, their wails piercing the night. And then, he heard a name—Aryan.

Panic surged through him. They had chosen his son as the next offering.

Ravi rushed home, breathless, and told Meera everything. Without a moment’s hesitation, they packed their belongings and wrapped Aryan in a thick blanket. The village gates were always locked at night, but Ravi knew of a hidden path through the woods, one that Bhairav had secretly revealed to him.

With the torches of the villagers closing in, the family ran into the darkness of the forest. The air grew heavy, thick with whispers and unseen hands trying to pull them back. Aryan began to cry, his tiny fingers clutching Meera’s shawl. Just as the village bells rang, signaling the villagers' pursuit, Ravi saw the clearing ahead.

Summoning every ounce of strength, they broke free from the unseen force and crossed the threshold of the cursed land. As soon as they did, an ear-piercing wail erupted behind them. The village of Vardhpur, its people, and the terrible bonfire vanished into the mist as if they had never existed.

The Sharmas never looked back. They settled in a new town far from Vardhpur, never speaking of that night. But sometimes, in the dead of night, when the wind whispered through the trees, Meera swore she could still hear the distant echoes of the villagers’ chants, calling Aryan’s name…