Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra
Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra

The Story Spirit

The Story Spirit

7 mins 365 7 mins 365

"This is the best place to write a script," Aman said as he raised his glass to his friend Aryan, as his eyes took a tour of the old bungalow. "Serene, quiet and far away from the chaotic life of the city."


"Yes, dude," Aryan said as he took a sip from his glass. "Finally, we have bagged a chance to write the script for the ace director Razak. His last 5 films were superhits."


"He specializes in making murder mysteries," Aman rubbed his forehead. "Let me suggest a story idea. A beautiful young girl in her twenties is found murdered in a desolate, old bungalow on a cold, dark night like this. What do you say?"


"Awesome!" Aryan nodded and closed his eyes. "Let's write it."

Aman switched his laptop on and started typing.


Suddenly, Aryan's body shook for a second and he opened his eyes with a start. Some hazy noises whispered into his ears and he saw some blurred images flashing by. He felt some eerie presence around. As his vision cleared, he saw the silhouette of a boy standing in the dimly lit corridor opposite to him.


"No!" Aryan found his voice as the silhouette vanished.

"What?" Aman's racing fingers came to an abrupt halt on the laptop and he raised his head.

"It's not a lady," Aryan said panting. "It's a boy, about 8 years old, who was murdered here."

"Well, then," Aman was a bit irked as he had to delete everything he had typed so far, "who killed him? And why?"


"I don't know," Aryan buried his pale face in his arms.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Aman rolled his eyes, "it's your story."

"It's not mine," Aryan's petrified eyes turned to Aman. "A moment ago, I felt the presence of a spirit who told me the story."


"You mean a story spirit, "Aman shrugged. "You had more than your usual quota of drinks and that's why you are talking nonsense. It's time for you to go to bed."

"You are right," Aryan got up and went to his bedroom. "Goodnight."


He slipped into sleep soon. In his dreams, he saw a little boy playing in the hall of the bungalow where Aryan was staying. He was the same boy he had seen in the corridor ealier. The boy heard a knock on the door and ran to open it. But his face turned grim as he saw a mean-looking man at the door-step.


"Hello son," The man said.


"No," the boy whispered, sulking away, "you are my stepfather Mohit uncle and not my dad!"

Aryan woke up with a start and ran to Aman who was having coffee in the garden.

"Aman," Aryan was out of breath, "it was his stepfather who had killed him!"

"That's quite interesting," Aman nodded thoughtfully, "let's write it down."


Aman spent the whole day typing the story as Aryan narrated whatever the story spirit had told him.

"Now the question arises why and how?" Aman said as he massaged his aching fingers.

"The reason is quite obvious," Aryan said with a tilt of the head, "his stepfather hated Sachin. Now the only question that remains unanswered is 'how'. "


Aryan fell silent as he pondered over something in his mind.

"I think his stepfather must have stab..."


Aryan froze as he felt sparks of electricity bursting throughout his body. A train of hazy images ran in front of his eyes once again. Then the screen went dark.


"I'll shoot him." Mohit shouted, "he knows everything. If he blurts out our secret to the world, we are finished!"

Aryan gasped and fell down on the floor as he came to his senses.

"Are you okay?" Aman helped him to a chair and gave him a glass of water.


"I know the answers, Aman," Aryan's face was as white as a sheet. "I know who killed him. I know why he was murdered and how."


"Sachin knew some sinister secret that his mother and stepfather were hiding."

"What secret?"

"I don't know."

"We must find it out." Aman shook his head, "and we must find it now because Razzak wants to see the script within a week."

"You are right, " Aryan sighed. "Let's search this house. We must find something about the family that had once lived here."


They searched the house thoroughly and found some old diaries. It was written by Vishal who was Sachin's father. Mohit was his friend who used to visit them regularly. Mohit fell in love with Vishal's wife Shanti and she began reciprocating his love. They planned to get Vishal out of their way. On the last page of the diary, Vishal had written that he had overheard Shanti and Mohit weaving a web of conspiracy against him. Vishal made plans of fleeing from his own house along with his son as he knew Mohit was a dangerous man who wouldn't hesitate even to murder him to marry Shanti.


"Then what happened?" Aman asked as he impatiently scanned the rest of the pages of the diary and found them all blank.

"Let's write down whatever we know," Aryan said. "I am sure, the story spirit will tell me the rest."


Aman agreed and they wrote the story. For the five days that passed by, they waited for the story spirit to tell them the rest of the story but it didn't happen. Aman was enraged by the end of the fifth day.


"We have only one day left, Aryan." He kicked the empty beer can. "And our story is still incomplete. What are we going to tell Razzak? Where the hell is your story spirit?"

"What can I do?" Aryan shrugged, "I can't beckon it. It comes to me on its own."


"We are definitely going to lose this golden chance." Aman angrily rose to his feet, "Razzak is going to throw us out for sure."


Aman opened the door and stomped out into the dark. Aryan went to his bedroom and slammed the door shut. He thumped himself on the bed out of frustration and closed his eyes. He didn't even realize when sleep took over him.


Aryan heard agitated voices of Shanti and Mohit coming from their room in his dreams. He stood behind the door of their bedroom and held his breath as he heard their conversation.


"Fine!" Mohit smirked, "I am a beast. But what are you, an angel?"

"What do you mean?" Shanti turned pale.


"You are my partner-in-crime," Mohit said with a wicked grin. "You had helped me in strangling Vishal and then we buried his body in the graveyard. What if I tell the truth to your son and to the world?"


"I'm not going to spare you." Shanti pulled the drawer and picked her gun. "I'll murder you too."

She said pointing it at Mohit.



The next moment, he woke up startled as he heard the echo of a gunshot. He took a spade from the kitchen and rushed out to the garden. Aman who was strolling in the garden was alarmed to see Aryan running towards the burial ground with a spade in his hand.


"What are you up to?" Aman asked as he ran behind Aryan.

Aryan didn't answer and started digging the ground below the huge banyan tree. After digging for several minutes, he found a skeleton.


"Who is this?"

"Vishal," Aryan sat down on the ground as he was drained out.

"What shall we do now?"

"Call the police, they'll take care of the rest." Aryan sprang to his feet at once. "Meanwhile, let's finish the story and mail it to Razzak by tomorrow morning."



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