It was a cold, quiet night in the small village of Himatpur. The moonlight bathed the dusty lanes, and most homes were dark, their residents fast asleep. But in a modest house on the edge of the fields, Meera was wide awake, her heart racing.
She had been alone in the house since her husband, Arjun, left two days ago for work in a neighboring town. Tonight, the wind howled louder than usual, rattling the wooden windows as if something—or someone—wanted to come inside. Meera tried to focus on her stitching, but the creaking roof above made her freeze.
"Probably just the old house," she whispered to herself, trying to shake off the unease.
Then it happened. Three sharp knocks at the door.
Meera’s heart leaped into her throat. Who would come so late at night? She tiptoed to the door, her hand trembling as she picked up a heavy iron rod for protection. Peeking through a crack, she saw a shadowy figure standing outside, a shawl hiding their face.
"Who’s there?" Meera called out, her voice unsteady.
"Please," the man said. "I need help."
His voice was raspy, almost desperate. Meera hesitated, torn between fear and compassion. Finally, she unlatched the door slightly.
The man stumbled in, clutching his side. His kurta was torn, and blood stained his hands. He collapsed onto the floor.
"What happened?" Meera asked, fear giving way to concern.
"I… I was attacked in the fields," he gasped. "They’re still after me."
"They?" Meera’s eyes widened.
Before the man could say more, another knock echoed through the house. This time, it came from the back door. Meera’s pulse quickened.
"Don’t open it!" the man hissed.
Meera froze. She looked at him, then at the back door. Her instincts screamed to lock it, but she was rooted to the spot.
The knock turned into a loud bang. "Meera, it’s me!" a familiar voice called out.
"Arjun?" Meera ran to the door and unbolted it. Her husband stepped inside, his face pale and filled with worry.
"Are you alright?" Arjun asked, holding her tightly. Then his gaze landed on the injured man.
"Who’s this?"
"He says he was attacked in the fields," Meera explained.
Arjun’s expression hardened. "I saw no one on my way back. What if he’s lying?"
The man shook his head weakly. "I’m telling the truth. They’re coming… you must believe me."
Before anyone could respond, the front window shattered. A masked figure jumped inside, holding a knife. Meera screamed as Arjun grabbed a wooden stool to defend them.
The fight was chaotic and brief. Arjun managed to overpower the attacker, but when they turned to check on the injured man, he was gone.
When the police arrived, there was no sign of the man who had sought shelter—or his supposed attackers.
To this day, Meera and Arjun wonder if the stranger was a victim—or someone far more dangerous.
Comment down to let me know according to you who is that Stranger?
No comments:
Post a Comment