Part 4 : Encounter with the Hell Hound
“That plate of chapli kebabs was dangerously good,” Peter said, still licking his fingers as we stepped out of the dhaba. “I’m convinced I’ve accidentally reached culinary paradise.”
Amit chuckled, dusting crumbs off his jacket. “If paradise smells like grilled spices and meat, I’m not coming back.”
Abdul shook his head with a faint smile. “You both would call anything delicious divine. Tomorrow, I’m voting for something calmer—maybe the riverside. Less spice, more air.”
I bumped his shoulder lightly. “Always the sensible one, Abdul. But don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”
He gave a reluctant grin. “Alright… maybe a little.”
We continued walking through the tight bazaar lanes when Peter suddenly stopped. “Hold on. Did anyone else catch that sound?”
We all paused. The usual market noise—vendors, engines, chatter—seemed to thin out strangely. From a nearby alley came a soft rustle, like something shifting just out of sight. Lantern light flickered across uneven walls, stretching the shadows into odd shapes.
“It’s probably just wind moving through the stalls,” Amit said, though his tone was cautious.
“I’m not convinced,” I replied, scanning the dark passage. “Something moved there. It looked… like a person.”
Abdul adjusted his shawl. “Probably a shopkeeper shutting down early. Don’t overthink it.”
But Peter had already stepped forward, torch in hand. “I’ll check it out. Stay behind me.”
He approached slowly. The shadow seemed to dissolve before he reached it, leaving behind only damp stone and a faint mix of spice and moisture in the air. Peter turned back, puzzled. “I swear something was there. It just… vanished.”
Amit exchanged a glance with me. “We’ve handled worse. Probably nothing.”
I nodded, but unease lingered in my chest. “Still… stay alert. This place feels like it’s aware of us.”
Later, we reached the riverbank. Under the moonlight, the water shimmered like liquid silver, reflecting Rosy’s headlights. The soft sound of waves brushing against the shore filled the silence, along with the scent of damp soil and nearby jasmine.
“This is the kind of place you remember without trying,” Peter said, tossing a pebble into the water. It skipped twice before disappearing.
Abdul leaned against the jeep. “I could stay here all night. No noise, no rush… just the river.”
Amit knelt by the water and dipped his fingers in. “Have you ever wondered how many lives have passed through this place? How many people stood exactly where we are now?”
I looked at the ripples spreading outward. “You can feel it sometimes. Like the past hasn’t fully left.”
Peter squinted toward a distant structure across the river. “Look at that old fort wall. Even from here, it looks like it’s been through centuries.”
Amit nodded. “Every crack has a story—wars, celebrations, secrets people forgot to speak aloud.”
Abdul rubbed his arms. “I just hope none of those stories are… the disturbing kind.”
I let out a small laugh. “In places like this, there’s always something buried under the surface.”
Just then, a dull metallic sound echoed from across the river. It was distant but sharp, like something striking metal or stone underwater. The sudden silence that followed made us all freeze.
Peter whispered, “You heard that, right?”
“Yes,” Amit said slowly. “Something definitely moved near the water.”
Abdul’s voice dropped. “Or something is trying to get our attention.”
I tightened my jacket. “Well then… we’re here. Whatever Sialkot is hiding, it’s time it stops hiding.”
We exchanged uneasy smiles, trying to brush off the chill creeping through us. But even as we turned back toward Rosy, the feeling remained—like unseen eyes following our every step through the dark city.
Peter glanced back at the fort one last time. “If this was supposed to be a peaceful trip, we’re already failing.”
Amit smirked. “Peaceful trips are overrated anyway.”
Abdul gave a tired sigh. “I guess if the city wants to tell us something, we’ll end up hearing it sooner or later.”
The jeep rumbled forward, headlights cutting through the night as we made our way toward Peter’s home. Shadows stretched across the walls, shifting like they had a life of their own. Somewhere in the quiet lanes of Sialkot, something unseen seemed to stir—patient, observant, waiting.
As we reached the house and climbed inside, warmth greeted us, but the strange feeling from the city clung stubbornly behind us.
Amit set his bag down. “Sialkot feels different,” he said quietly. “Like it remembers more than it should.”
Peter stood near the window, staring out at the dark streets. “It’s watching us. I’m sure of it.”
Abdul exhaled slowly. “Then tomorrow isn’t just sightseeing. It’s an encounter.”
I nodded. “And we’ll need to be ready for whatever answers back.”
That night, sleep came, but not peace. Outside, the city stayed awake in its own way—silent, patient, and waiting for dawn.
Author’s Note: This chapter was edited with AI assistance for grammar, readability, and flow.
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