I Am Dead!

I was walking in an unfamiliar part of my village, Khundru. It was evening, and darkness had enveloped everything around me. On my path, I encountered a small child who seemed taken aback by my presence. I didn't recognize him; we had never crossed paths before. He urgently said, "Stop, stop!" I asked, "What's wrong?" He replied, "Are you alive?" Confused by his question, I assured him that I was indeed alive. Without explaining further, he grabbed my hand and led me into the unknown. I was filled with fear as this mysterious child guided me through the darkness.

With each step, I pleaded with him, "Please, let me go. Where are we heading? Please, release me." However, he remained silent, and I had no choice but to follow him. Eventually, we arrived at the graveyard in Khundru, and he said, "Someone has passed away. Just wait here; they'll be here soon, and I need to show you something." We hid behind a walnut tree, and my fear deepened as I observed the graveyard. My heart was heavy, and I felt as if impending doom was upon me.

Soon, a group of people arrived, bearing a coffin on their shoulders. The scene before me was perplexing and unlike anything, I had witnessed before. There were girls at the funeral, an unusual sight since we didn't typically see girls at such events. Both boys and girls from my school were present, and I recognized all my teachers. I couldn't comprehend who had passed away, as no one from our school was missing. Everyone was there, creating a sense of confusion.

I implored the little child, "Please, let me go. They're all dear to me. I need to ask them who has passed away." He responded, "You don't need to ask them." Puzzled, I asked, "Why not?" He declared, "Do you know who is wrapped in this shroud?" I replied, "No." He solemnly stated, "It is you who is wrapped in this shroud. You have died. You are dead."

Shocked, I exclaimed, "What?" I gazed at the people once more, and to my horror, I noticed that one student was missing from our school, and that student was me. I had failed to count myself; Saaqib Bashir was absent. Yet, I knew I was alive. I pressed the child, "What are you saying? I am alive!" He responded, "If you don't believe me, I can show you the pictures." Confused, I inquired, "What pictures?" He revealed, "I have taken pictures of the deceased." With trembling hands, he reached into his pocket and displayed his phone. At that moment, the chilling truth sank in—I was truly dead.

Suddenly, I dropped my pen and I found out that I was writing a story.