She's standing there

Morning light crept lazily through Jack’s window, spilling across his bed.

“Wake up, Jack. Grandma is ill. Your father and I are leaving to visit her. You’ll have to take care of your sister today,” his mother said, tugging away his bedsheet. She was dressed in a simple red cotton saree, the faint scent of jasmine lingering around her.

“I’ll come with you, Mummy! Take me along,” his sister Liya pleaded, as she always did.

Jack groaned and fell back onto the bed. He was used to this.

An hour later, he woke to find her staring at him. Her hair hung loose, obscuring her face, and her black gown seemed to swallow the light around her.

“Eh! You scared me! Why didn’t you go with Mom and Dad?!” he snapped.

She didn’t respond. She simply rose and glided out of the room. The floorboards creaked under her footsteps, echoing in the silent house.

Later, Jack called, “Hey, get me a bottle of juice from the fridge!”

No response.

He sighed and walked into the living room, only to find her sitting motionless, staring at the disconnected television. The air felt colder here, heavier. His breath fogged slightly before him.

“How many times should I call you? Why are you staring at that black screen, you weirdo?” he muttered, grabbing the juice and turning away.

When he returned moments later, she was still there. Her hair fell like a shadow over her face, and her breathing was ragged and uneven.

“Liya,” he called sharply. No movement.

“LIYA!” he shouted.

Then the lights began to flicker, a staccato rhythm, bright then dark, bright then dark - and a strange, metallic scent filled the room. The unplugged TV flickered to life. On its screen, he saw… the living room. And in it, Liya, standing exactly where she was.

“What the hell…? Stop this nonsense, Liya,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Then came the laughter: sharp, guttural, and wrong.

“HA… HA… HA… HA…”

Her head jerked violently as she laughed. Each movement seemed too fast, too unnatural. Jack stumbled back, feeling the floor tilt beneath him.

He ran to his room and slammed the door shut

But she was there. Hair loose, black gown brushing the floor, eyes glinting with something unnatural.

He screamed, yanked the door open,

And she was outside too.

Two Liyas. Both moving in silence, both reaching for him, their fingers curling like claws, their breaths coming in sharp, wet gasps.

“Stop this, this madness!” he yelled, panic clawing at his throat.

They grabbed him. Cold. Heavy. Unyielding. His legs kicked frantically. His lungs burned.

“Ah…!” he choked as the room seemed to twist and stretch. Shadows grew long and jagged across the walls. The air vibrated with low, whispering voices he couldn’t understand.

Then,

“Jack. Jack! Wake up, Jack.”

His mother’s voice, calm and real.

“Grandma is ill. Your father and I are leaving to visit her. You’ll have to take care of your sister today.”

Jack froze.

She was wearing the same red cotton saree, her hands resting lightly on the bed. The faint scent of jasmine still lingered.

“It’s just a coincidence,” he whispered to himself. “Just a dream.”

“I’ll come with you, Mummy! Take me along!” Liya whined from the doorway.

“She always says that” Jack whispered, trying to convince himself.

But an hour later, when he woke, Liya was standing by his bed again, hair loose, black gown flowing, her face hidden, and the room colder than before, as if the shadows had grown teeth overnight.

And this time… the whispers were coming from inside his own closet.