Black Mist and other stories 3

black mist and other stories

Sharmishtha Basu is an unemployed artist, writer who is out to test her works, see if they can help her to build an “unorthodox” career, a path followed by many before, some has been blessed with success, most have not, let us see what you make of her attempts! A failure or success- it all depends on you. These are pieces from her book, the book is available on createspace and amazon- It is a collection of dark stories, paranormal mostly but not gothic, it prefers scaring by creating eerie images not blood, gore, violence. She will certainly love to see it in your Halloween collection!

Black Mist and other stories

black mist
piece 3

Then things took a scary turn.

The black fume turned into a black mist, it started to condense like darkness itself. The terrified villagers heard roaring and hissing inside that mist as it lurched towards them in slow but menacing way; they ran, with their families, leaving everything behind.

Things, people left behind were never seen again. When some dare devil villagers dared to return next morning with a hope of saving the things left behind they noted that a black liquid has oozed out of ground and there was no sign, none at all of their huts, houses , men, animals or anything else- only miles of marsh surrounded the absolutely intact temple.

They could hear the sound of bells and chanting of krishnamayee coming out of the temple.

They ran as fast they could to never return.

This village came up centuries later, when the fear of the myth ebbed away. But the mist returned, once in a while, cowering under its darkness they could hear the clanging of the bells of the temple, as if it too was alive and moving inside the mist. They could hear the loud chanting of Krishanmayee, the witch. The hissing and growling of her companions, it never returned empty handed. It devoured one village after the other that fell in the path to this village. Last time it surfaced hundred years ago, and devoured the last village that lay between the temple and Maheshpura.

“Villagers are deserting the village.” The old man mumbled. “I will leave by noon. I will suggest you the same. Don’t try to stay back.”

“How far is the mist from here?” he was curious. He was thinking about calling up his friend in Delhi to come down with his shooting equipment to capture the village frenzy.

“It has just started to rise from the marsh that means, it will be here by tomorrow noon. It travels in darkness, in night.” The man muttered. Then he looked at his face, “Don’t go there son. Don’t play with things beyond your control.”

“I won’t uncle.” He tried to soothe the man but he was too experienced to be fooled.

“Don’t do it son. I will have to take my leave; we are leaving by the eleven a.m. bus.” The old man took his leave.

Mitesh pressed the button for a cup of tea. No one showed up. He went out; all his household helps have vanished in thin air.

They must have overheard the old man, or one must have heard him and ignited the rumor haystack. The entire house was deserted but him.

He picked up his camera and left for the marsh. He stopped his car a few meters away from the marsh and stared at the black mist.

to be continued….


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