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Date: 28/03/2025
In an old haveli in Rajasthan, Room 105 was always locked. The caretaker warned travelers, “No one who sleeps there returns.”
Vikram, a skeptic, laughed and took the key. That night, shadows crawled along the walls, whispering his name. The door creaked open by itself.
He felt something cold touch his shoulder. A voice rasped, “You took my place.” His own reflection in the mirror smirked at him, then stepped out.
By morning, Vikram was gone, and a new guest checked in. The caretaker sighed, handing them the same cursed key, as the cycle began again.
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
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Page: A Sanguine Tale
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