The winter evening carried an uneasy tension beneath its calm surface. Although the joy of our reunion still lingered inside Amit’s ancestral house, there was something hidden behind his smile—something troubling enough that he had waited until we were all together before speaking about it.
We sat in the old drawing room surrounded by dark wooden beams stained by years of rain and time. The aroma of cardamom tea drifted through the air while the fading sunlight outside painted the neem trees in deep shadows. As dusk settled, the room itself seemed to grow quieter, almost as though the walls were listening.
Amit finally broke the silence. “I didn’t bring you all here only to celebrate,” he admitted, his voice serious as he looked around at each of us. “There’s something happening near the villages along the Indus River. People there need help.”
Diljeet immediately straightened in his seat. Years in law enforcement had sharpened his instincts, and I could see the alertness return to his eyes. “What exactly is happening?” he asked carefully.
Amit lowered his gaze for a moment before answering. “For generations, families there have cremated their dead and scattered the ashes into the river. But recently… strange things have begun appearing after sunset. Villagers claim they’ve seen figures wandering near the riverbanks—human-shaped, but without heads.”
Peter blinked in disbelief. “Headless?”
Amit nodded slowly. “After dark, people refuse to leave their homes. Farmers returning late say stones are thrown at them from the trees. Whenever they search for whoever attacked them, they find nothing. Some even hear horrifying screams echoing through the fields.”
A cold silence settled over the room. Even Rosy, lying quietly nearby, lifted her head and let out a low growl, as if sensing the fear in Amit’s words.
Abdul spoke next, calm but uneasy. “These things attack people without warning?”
“Yes,” Amit replied quietly. “Witnesses say they emerge near the river at twilight. Their clothes drip with water, their bodies move stiffly, and where their heads should be… there’s nothing. Sometimes they make strange choking sounds, but never real words. The villagers are terrified.”
Diljeet folded his arms tightly. “What about the police?”
“They investigated,” Amit said bitterly. “But how do you fight something people refuse to believe exists? Most officials dismiss it as superstition and leave the villagers to fend for themselves.”
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable despite trying to hide it. “So your plan is for us to go hunting headless ghosts beside a river?”
Amit’s expression hardened. “Not hunt. Protect. Innocent families are living in fear every night. They need someone willing to stand between them and whatever is out there.”
I noticed Abdul watching me silently before speaking. “And you want us involved again?”
Amit answered without hesitation. “Yes. You’ve all faced horrors before and survived. I trust you more than anyone else. The villagers have nowhere else to turn.”
For several moments, nobody spoke. Outside, the evening call to prayer drifted softly through the cold air, mingling with the rustling leaves beyond the windows. The sound carried a strange heaviness, reminding us how many helpless people depended on someone taking action.
At last, I broke the silence. “Then we go.”
Abdul gave a slow nod. “We’ve survived worse. Headless spirits won’t stop us.”
Peter sighed dramatically before straightening in his chair. “Alright then. Important question—are we fighting these things with weapons, holy water, or just excessive confidence?”
Diljeet groaned. “Definitely not confidence. We’ll need proper preparation.”
Amit leaned forward urgently. “You’ll need these.” From beside the table, he picked up several small blessed amulets. “Keep them with you at all times. We leave at dawn. Every night we delay puts more lives in danger.”
I glanced toward Abdul. “Do you still have those protective charms from last winter?”
Without a word, he pulled a worn leather pouch from inside his coat. “I never threw them away,” he said quietly. “And I agree with Amit. Something stronger is controlling these spirits. Something intelligent.”
Peter tried to joke again, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. “Great. Evil masterminds. Exactly what every winter holiday needs.”
Abdul’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t the time for jokes.”
Amit stood and walked toward the window overlooking the dark courtyard. The final traces of sunlight vanished behind the trees, leaving the garden swallowed in shadow. “The sightings always happen after sunset,” he explained. “Mostly near the river and the surrounding fields. We’ll need to study their movements and intercept them before they reach the villages.”
A map lay open across the table, marked with circles and notes. I traced one of the locations with my finger. “And if they attack us?”
“They probably will,” Amit answered firmly. “But we’re not helpless. We have experience now. We prepare carefully, stay together, and rely on both strategy and faith.”
Peter stared at the map uneasily. “So basically… we hide in the dark waiting for terrifying headless creatures to appear while trying not to panic?”
Abdul gave a faint, humorless smile. “That’s more or less the plan.”
I looked toward Diljeet. “We’ve walked into darkness before. We can do it again.”
He nodded slowly. “At sunrise we move out. We’ll divide into teams and patrol the riverbanks and nearby farms. Whatever these things are, they won’t harm anyone tonight.”
Amit rested a hand on my shoulder, gratitude and worry mixing in his eyes. “The villagers need hope. Right now, you’re the only shield they have.”
Peter stood and raised an imaginary weapon into the air. “Very well. I shall become the fearless defender of the Indus. Or at least the moderately brave defender.”
Abdul shook his head. “Try surviving first.”
The room eventually fell silent again, though now the silence felt heavier with purpose. Beyond the walls of the old house, the wind carried an eerie murmur from the distant river, almost like a warning whispered through the darkness itself.
But inside that drawing room, the five of us remained united once more—bound by friendship, loyalty, and the determination to protect people who could not protect themselves.
As we finished the last of our tea, we understood that this journey would be far more dangerous than anything we had expected. We were preparing to confront headless spirits—creatures capable of twisting fear into something real and deadly.
And whatever truly waited for us along the banks of the Indus… none of us were ready for it.
Keep reading.
Author’s Note: This chapter was edited with AI assistance for grammar, readability, and flow.37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ984N8lFztt
and then Add to home screen.