Horror
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The Saltwater Bride
Prakash Nayak 1 The train had rattled away hours ago, leaving Dr. Ananya Menon with only the crash of waves and the whisper of palms for company as she entered the fishing village that would become her temporary home. She had come armed with her instruments, notebooks, and the absolute conviction that science could measure…
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The Last Tram to Esplanade
Sandip Chakraborty 1 The tram bell chimed faintly, its echo vanishing into the hushed expanse of Esplanade. Midnight in Kolkata had its own kind of silence—a silence alive with the creak of tram rails, the hiss of distant buses, and the occasional bark of stray dogs. Arup Chatterjee, in his worn khaki uniform, stood at…
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The Red Clay
Aanya Roy Part 1: Arrival in Chandrapur The monsoon had begun its slow, deliberate siege over Bankura, draping the laterite hills in a persistent, misty gray. Every hill and hollow seemed to hold a secret, every forested path whispered with wind and rain. Arjun Sen’s jeep rolled over the slick red clay road, tires…
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The Saree That Walked
Sampriti Bhattacharya 1 The train slid into Varanasi Junction under a pale winter sun, its light already filtered through a haze of incense smoke, dust, and the faint smell of the Ganga carried on the morning air. Arpita Sen stepped onto the platform, her leather satchel hanging heavily at her side, filled with notebooks, sketching…
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Puppet Strings
Amrita Lakhani Chapter 1 – Return to the Haveli The late afternoon sun draped the Rajasthani landscape in molten gold as Meera Rathore’s jeep rolled through the dusty road leading to her ancestral village. The air was thick with the scent of dry earth and marigold garlands strung outside small houses in preparation for an…
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The Narmada Pact
Aarushi Trivedi One The monsoon had just withdrawn from the land, leaving behind a scent of damp earth and ancient memories as Dr. Meera Rao stepped off the dusty jeep that brought her to Shulgaon—a quiet riverside village wrapped in dense sal groves and secrets. From the banks of the Narmada, the landscape stretched out…
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The House Beyond Solang
Ritoban Chatterjee Part 1: The Snowline Ends Here The road to Solang wasn’t a road anymore. Past the tourist checkpoints and the snowmobilers shouting into the white wind, the tar peeled into gravel, then to silence. Ishaan Sen stood beside the BRO milestone that read SOLANG – 1 KM, the last marker of civilisation before…
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Red Door, No Echo
Vivaan Malik Part 1: The Room That Doesn’t Exist The rain fell like nails on the roof of the boarding house, hard and deliberate. Elliot Crane stepped out of the taxi, dragging a battered suitcase behind him, the soles of his boots already slick with Kolkata’s monsoon grime. The signboard above the house was missing…
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The Last Sermon at Kohima Church
Niraj Kashyap 1 The road to Kohima was narrower than Dev Malhotra expected, its serpentine curves stitched into hills that breathed mist with every mile. His cab driver, a lean man named Lipok, didn’t speak much beyond gestures and short English bursts. The air grew thinner as they climbed, and pine forests swayed like silent…
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Night Watch at Bhangarh Fort
Nishant R. Ahuja 1 The screen flickers alive with the booming digital countdown: 00:01:58…00:01:57…. A flurry of live comments races down the chat— “Let’s goooo!” “Bet this is all fake again.” “12 HOURS INSIDE BHANGARH?? THEY’LL DIE 💀💀💀” At exactly 7:00 PM, the livestream begins. The scene opens on four figures standing outside the broken…
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Whispers from Observatory Hill
Trisha Das 1 The toy train chugged out of Ghum station, leaving behind a curl of white smoke that quickly vanished into the thickening mist. Tiasa Sen leaned against the cold windowpane of the shared jeep, her fingers absently tracing the condensation forming along the glass. Darjeeling, shrouded in monsoon fog and quiet pine-scented air,…
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The Baul’s Final Song
Asit Chowdhury 1 The red dust of Birbhum clung to Dr. Soumita Sen’s sandals as she stepped off the rickety local bus into the drowsy village of Palashpur. A warm wind carried the scent of mahua flowers and something more ancient—old wood smoke, dried hay, and the faintest echo of a tune no one seemed…