>be me
>visiting my uncle’s house in a small Himachal village called killi
>surrounded by mountains, deep forests, and those creepy roads
>no WiFi, barely any cell signal
>uncle’s house is old, wooden and creaks even when no one is moving
>first night, power goes out because of a storm
>sitting with a emergency light, scrolling through old photos on my phone
>hear soft knocking on the window
>too high up for anyone to reach from outside
>heart starts racing, but tell myself it’s just a tree branch
>next morning, tell uncle about it
>he goes quiet, then says:
>“If you hear knocking again, don’t look outside.”
>second night, everyone asleep
>I stay up reading, wind howling outside
>1 AM, the knocking starts again
>slow, deliberate *knock… knock… knock…*
>every instinct tells me to ignore it
>but curiosity gets the best of me
>peek through the window
>see a man standing in the field, staring at the house
>clothes tattered, face covered in dirt, eyes completely white
>he raises his hand and slowly waves at me
>slam the curtains shut, heart pounding
>try to convince myself it’s just some drunk villager
>next morning, go to the field to check
>no footprints, no sign of anyone ever standing there
>uncle sees me looking worried, finally tells me the truth
>“Years ago, your father's cousin brother burnt himself alive in these woods coz of depression ,people tried to stop him but couldn't "
>third night, decide to record my window with my phone, just in case
>set it up, pretend to sleep
>knocking starts at exactly 1 AM
>force myself not to move, not to breathe
>after a few minutes, it stops
>next morning, check my phone
>play the video, heart racing
>at exactly 1:01 AM, the knocking starts
>then, something appears at the window
>a face, pressed against the glass, grinning
>not a normal smile—lips stretched too wide, teeth too many
>staring directly at the camera
>video cuts out on its own
>pack my bags and leave that morning
>never going back to that house again
My father's cousin brother
Anonymous
ROJR
8c8zo94h85c.jpeg
>be me
>visiting my uncle’s house in a small Himachal village called killi
>surrounded by mountains, deep forests, and those creepy roads
>no WiFi, barely any cell signal
>uncle’s house is old, wooden and creaks even when no one is moving
>first night, power goes out because of a storm
>sitting with a emergency light, scrolling through old photos on my phone
>hear soft knocking on the window
>too high up for anyone to reach from outside
>heart starts racing, but tell myself it’s just a tree branch
>next morning, tell uncle about it
>he goes quiet, then says:
>“If you hear knocking again, don’t look outside.”
>second night, everyone asleep
>I stay up reading, wind howling outside
>1 AM, the knocking starts again
>slow, deliberate *knock… knock… knock…*
>every instinct tells me to ignore it
>but curiosity gets the best of me
>peek through the window
>see a man standing in the field, staring at the house
>clothes tattered, face covered in dirt, eyes completely white
>he raises his hand and slowly waves at me
>slam the curtains shut, heart pounding
>try to convince myself it’s just some drunk villager
>next morning, go to the field to check
>no footprints, no sign of anyone ever standing there
>uncle sees me looking worried, finally tells me the truth
>“Years ago, your father's cousin brother burnt himself alive in these woods coz of depression ,people tried to stop him but couldn't "
>third night, decide to record my window with my phone, just in case
>set it up, pretend to sleep
>knocking starts at exactly 1 AM
>force myself not to move, not to breathe
>after a few minutes, it stops
>next morning, check my phone
>play the video, heart racing
>at exactly 1:01 AM, the knocking starts
>then, something appears at the window
>a face, pressed against the glass, grinning
>not a normal smile—lips stretched too wide, teeth too many
>staring directly at the camera
>video cuts out on its own
>pack my bags and leave that morning
>never going back to that house again
