“Aren’t you afraid of ghosts?” Sia asked Rohan upon leaving the theatre after watching a late-night ghost movie. “The whole theatre was screaming in fear, only you were sitting unperturbed through it all.”
“There are no ghosts in the real world,” Rohan replied.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I haven’t come across one in 33 years of my life,” he replied nonchalantly, already bored with the subject. As if it wasn’t enough that he had to watch a silly movie, now he had to talk about it too.
As luck would have it, there were ghosts in his dream too. A white sunken face bobbing on a wasted body was chasing Rohan in the woods. Though he was running to the best of his ability, it wasn’t enough. The ghost was quickly moving upon him. Rohan came upon a cottage, he went inside and locked the door. The ghost knocked at the door, but he couldn’t get inside. Rohan saw a lone emaciated hand with long nails making a screeching sound on the window pane.
Rohan woke up with a start. He shook his head to ward off the unpleasant dream. Strange, he had never dreamed of ghosts before. Maybe the movie had a part to play in this.
He was thirsty, so he went to the kitchen. He filled up a glass of ice-cold water and started sipping. He heard a screeching sound outside the window and turned around. It couldn’t be true! It was the same white hand.