Whispers in the Dark : 3

Anik, enveloped in the nostalgia of Kali Puja, returned to his ancestral home. It was a grand, old house with tales seeping through every brick and creak of wood. The scent of incense mingled with the dampness of the evening rain, creating a mystical aura around the gathering. The sky, painted with streaks of lightning, seemed to mirror the electrifying anticipation of the night. He and his cousins sat in a cozy circle, the flickering oil lamps casting long shadows on the walls, as they waited eagerly for Granny's tale. The ambiance was perfect for an old legend to come alive.

"Granny," Anik urged, "tell us a story we've never heard before."

Granny, her eyes twinkling with a mix of wisdom and mischief, settled into her chair. "Alright, my dears. Let me tell you a story from many years ago, when your grandfather and I lived in Darjeeling. It's a story that has haunted my memories ever since."

The children leaned in, their faces glowing in the warm light, ready to be transported to a time long gone.

---

The mist rolled down the hills of Darjeeling, curling around the isolated villa where your grandfather and I lived. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by tea gardens and the murmur of the wind through the pine trees. Our home was part of a small housing society, but it felt miles away from civilization. On one side, there was only the dense forest; on the other, a villa that seemed to hold secrets in its very walls.

Our neighbors were a peculiar family. They kept to themselves, rarely venturing out or merging with others. There was something about that house, something that made the air around it seem colder, the shadows deeper.

"Who were they, Dida?" asked little Shuvra, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Ah, the Boses," Granny replied, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Mr. and Mrs. Bose and their son, Rono. They moved in one winter, and from the very beginning, there was something off about them. Rono, especially, gave me the chills. He was a handsome young man, about twenty-five, but his eyes... they were dark, hollow, as if they had seen horrors untold."

Anik shivered, not just from the cold breeze that blew in through the window, but from the abnormal turn the story had taken.

"One evening, your grandfather and I decided to invite the Boses over for tea, as a gesture of friendship," Granny continued. "They accepted, but the visit was strained. Mrs. Bose was nervous, constantly glancing at her son, and Mr. Bose was stern and silent. Rono hardly spoke, and when he did, it was with a voice that sent shivers down my spine. We tried to make small talk, but it was clear they were hiding something.

"One night, I saw Rono standing outside in the garden, staring at the moon. His face was twisted in a look of such despair and longing that it broke my heart. I wanted to reach out to him, to ask if he was alright, but something held me back. I felt an invisible barrier, a sense of foreboding."

Granny paused, her eyes lost in the memories of that haunted time. The children waited with bated breath, the rain drumming a steady rhythm on the roof.

"It was after one such night," Granny resumed, "that I started noticing strange things. Small animals went missing from the neighborhood, and there were whispers among the locals of something uncanny. I dismissed it at first, but the unease never left me."

"And then, one fateful night," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "our worst fears were realized."

It was a stormy night, much like this one, and your grandfather was away on a work trip. I was alone in the house, trying to read, but the howling wind and the strange quietness unsettled me. I heard a noise outside, a rustling, and went to check. There, I saw Rono, his face pale and eyes wild, standing at our doorstep.

"Didi," he said, his voice a desperate whisper. "There's something you need to know."

"What is it, Rono?" I asked, my heart pounding.

"It's my parents," he stammered. "They... they think I'm a monster. They're planning to leave, to abandon me."

I was taken aback. "Why would they do that?"

"Because," he hesitated, his eyes filling with tears, "they believe the villagers' whispers. They think I'm... a cannibal."

A gasp escaped the children's lips, and Granny nodded, acknowledging their shock.

"Yes," she said softly. "It was a horrifying revelation. The villagers had seen Rono lurking around at night, near where the animals had gone missing. They believed he had a dark, insatiable hunger. I didn't know what to think, but I couldn't leave him there in that state. I brought him inside, gave him some food, and tried to comfort him."

As the night wore on, Rono fell into a restless sleep on our couch. I stayed awake, watching over him, my mind racing with fear and confusion. That's when I heard the sound of glass breaking. Intruders had broken into the house.

Three men, their faces covered, burst into the room. They were rough and menacing, and my blood ran cold. One of them grabbed me, and I screamed for help, but they silenced me with a harsh slap.

"There's no one to save you," one of them sneered.

But they were wrong. Rono woke up, and with a feral cry, he lunged at the intruders. He fought like a man possessed, his strength and ferocity shocking even them. He managed to overpower them, his eyes blazing with a primal rage.

The men fled, and Rono stood there, panting, his hands trembling. I was too stunned to move, too terrified to speak.

"Are you alright, Didi?" he asked, his voice softening.

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. "Thank you, Rono. Thank you for saving me."

The very next morning, the Boses left without a word. The villa stood empty, a silent witness to the horrors and mysteries that had unfolded.

Granny's voice trailed off, and the room was silent except for the rain outside. The children sat wide-eyed, absorbing the gravity of the tale.

"Did you ever see them again, Dida?" Anik asked, breaking the silence.

"No," Granny replied. "They disappeared as mysteriously as they had arrived. But I often wonder about Rono. Was he truly what the villagers believed? Or was he just a misunderstood soul, cursed by the whispers of a fearful community? I guess we'll never know."

As the story ended, the rain seemed to lighten, as if the storm had passed, both outside and within the hearts of those who listened.