Rahul was on his way home. It was past midnight. His home was at the outskirts of the city. He had gone to drop his friend at the railway station, after a late night party. He was just a 10-minute away from his destination. As he entered the 8th Cross from the main road, remembering something, he slowed down his Honda Scooter.
His body shivered for a moment, as he remembered that name - Taj Mahal. It was a bungalow, situated in that cross. That bungalow was around a hundred years old. Abandoned by its residents a long time ago, it had birthed many horror stories. One of them was the ghost of an old woman chasing passers-by in front of the bungalow. Though there were no deaths, some passers-by ended up being hospitalized. That was the reason why no one ventured near the bungalow after 7pm.
Rahul was debating what to do, but that was the only way to reach his home. Realizing that, he decided to take the risk. Joining his hands, he prayed and started his scooter.
Nearing the bungalow, Rahul's eyes screened the road. There was nothing. He sighed in relief and accelerated. He wanted to get out of that area as soon as possible.
As soon as Rahul reached the gate of the bungalow, an old Woman appeared right in front of him. Panicked, he applied the brakes. It was the legendary ghost itself; deep burning eyes, long white hair, skinny body, and the wicked smile which would end anyone's bravery.
The ghost stared at Rahul viciously. His hands were shaking, and his throat went dry. All his energy evaporated. Before he could react, it grabbed his neck.
"Oh my, my… What a hunk! Today is my lucky day." The ghost laughed wickedly.
"No, no… please... Let… me… go." Rahul blabbered with difficulty.
"Sure, why not. But let me have some fun with you first, boy." The ghost slurped, looking at him from head to toe. Rahul felt a chill in his spine, and shook his head in fear.
Glaring, the ghost moved closer to him. Rahul closed his eyes in fear, realizing he was going to die as a virgin. Then, the ghost started beating his right arm. It grabbed him by his hair, and shook his head violently.
"You moron, you wet the bed again. How many times have I told you not to watch horror movies so late at night?! But you never listen. Then you scream in the middle of the night, and wet the bed…”
Rahul wearily opened his eyes to find himself in his bed, getting beaten and scolded by his wife.
“... You are a 35-year-old man. Our kids laugh at you. I’m grateful that they don’t tell this to others. I don’t know what I had done in my past life that I had to marry you. Sometimes, I feel like… Arrrghh...!”
It took him a few minutes to realize that he had just seen a nightmare, and it was his wife who was beating him, not the old woman’s ghost.
“Not again!” mumbling, Rahul covered his head with a pillow, embarrassed.