Siddharth entered the house.
It was old and dimly lit. There was a hall, with two rooms one attached and another to the side.
The rain outside grew heavier.https://unbiasedpollkhol.com/
The old man suggested, “Don’t go to Goa now. Stay here tonight. Leave in the morning.” Siddharth had no choice
Inside the house was also a young girl, around 20–21 years old. She brought them tea and then went into the side room. Siddharth never saw her come out again.
Time passed.
8:30… 9:00… 9:30…
No one mentioned dinner.
Siddharth felt awkward asking for food. Hungry and confused, he waited—but no one came.
Finally, around 10 PM, he quietly ate a packet of biscuits from his bag and lay down.
After about an hour and a half, he suddenly woke up.
A strong fragrance of incense filled the air.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YRzYATjLYQo
He checked his phone.
11:15 PM.
Who lights incense at this hour?
Curious and uneasy, Siddharth stepped out of his room and looked toward the hall. The old man was there.
Then he heard it.
A loud, repetitive sound.
Like someone digging.
Slowly, Siddharth opened the main door and stepped outside.
In the backyard…
The old man was digging a hole.
Mud piled around him. The smell of incense seemed to come from there.
Siddharth’s heart began to race.
He quietly went back inside.
Near the room where the girl had gone, there was a small opening in the door. Unable to resist, he looked inside.
And what he saw froze his blood.
A body lay on the floor, covered with a white cloth.
The girl was sitting beside it… crying.
Siddharth’s mind went blank.
He rushed back to his room.
There was no way he could stay there.
Thinking quickly, he grabbed his phone and stepped outside, pretending to be on a call. He spoke loudly, faking an emergency—mentioning an accident, coordination, urgency.
It was all an act.
But it worked.
The old man stopped and watched him.
Siddharth stayed outside all night, standing near his bike, pretending to be on that call.
The old man waited for him to come back inside.
But he never did.
At around 4 AM, when the sky began to lighten slightly, Siddharth rushed inside, grabbed his bag, mounted his bike, and sped away.
But the nightmare wasn’t over.
As he rode, he suddenly felt resistance.
It was as if something was pulling his bike from behind.
He accelerated but the speed didn’t increase.
Confused, he glanced at his side mirror.
And his blood ran cold.
A woman in a black sari… was sitting behind him.
Her face was turned toward him.
There was no one else on the road.
Frozen with fear, Siddharth didn’t stop.
He squinted his eyes, trying to convince himself it wasn’t real. Under his breath, he began reciting the Hanuman Chalisa.
He kept riding.
15 seconds.
20 seconds.
He looked again.
She was still there.
This time, their eyes met.
Siddharth felt his body go numb.
He twisted the throttle harder but the speed refused to increase.
For 5–7 minutes, he rode like that… in silence… in terror.
Finally, he saw a village ahead.
At the entrance stood a temple.
Without hesitation, Siddharth stopped there, got off his bike, and sat down without even looking back.
For nearly two hours, he didn’t move.
He didn’t dare to check if she was still there.
As daylight finally broke and villagers began to gather, Siddharth folded his hands in prayer.
Then, without looking back…
he continued his journey to Goa.
Follow us on Facebook www.facebook.com/share/1C9zXVHvH6/ and xhttps://x.com/unbiasedpo88229 for more such storoies.
Chilling