It was a pleasant night. The whole society was glowing with lights, almost like a Diwali celebration. Families were having dinner, laughter filled the air, and everything felt warm and peaceful.
Aarum, an 11-year-old boy, was sitting at the dining table, finishing his homework. His younger sister, Sushree, was watching TV, lost in her favorite show. Their mother, Vinodhini, was in the kitchen cooking, while their father, Shatrughan, worked in his office room upstairs. The house was full, yet each person was busy with their own routine.
DING DONG.
The sudden sound of the doorbell made Vinodhini pause. A strange chill ran down her spine. Her heartbeat grew faster for no reason. Something felt… off.
She wiped her hands and walked toward the door. A shadow stood behind it—a man’s shadow. The air around her felt colder, heavier. A strange uneasiness crept up her back, sending goosebumps all over her arms.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
An old man stood there. His face was pale, and dark circles formed beneath his deep-set eyes. His hair was white and unkempt, like overgrown grass, yet his face was clean-shaven. He wore simple clothes—neat but slightly wrinkled. He looked like a harmless old man, but something about him didn’t sit right with Vinodhini.
"Yes?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.
The man gave a weak smile. "Hello, child. I need some help. Could I get a glass of water? I seem to have lost my way. I was trying to find an address but ended up here. I’ve been wandering for four hours."
Vinodhini hesitated. Four hours? That seemed… unlikely. He didn’t look tired. His clothes weren’t dusty or dirty.
"Oh… yes, no worries. Come in," she finally said, stepping aside. But her gut told her something was wrong.
She turned and walked upstairs to call her husband, Shatrughan. Meanwhile, the old man stepped inside, his eyes slowly moving across the room.
He noticed Sushree sitting on the sofa in her pink frock, completely unaware of his presence as she watched TV. He stared at her, his gaze lingering for just a second too long before he looked away.
Shatrughan came downstairs, his footsteps quick and firm. "Hello, sir. How can I help you?" he asked, sitting across from the old man.
The man pulled out a small folded paper and handed it to Shatrughan. "I was looking for this address. I was told it’s nearby, but I just can’t seem to find it."
Shatrughan unfolded the paper. The address was familiar. "Oh, this place? It’s close. You took a wrong turn. Just go right from the main road, and you’ll reach it in no time."
The old man nodded, smiling. "Ah, I see. Thank you so much."
He stood up slowly, his eyes sweeping the house one last time. Then, without another word, he walked out into the night.
Shatrughan locked the door and turned to Vinodhini. His face was serious. "That man… something was off about him."
"Why do you think so?" Vinodhini asked, still feeling the chill from earlier.
"His story doesn’t add up. He said he’s been lost for four hours, but he wasn’t sweating. His hands were too clean. And the way he looked around the house… it wasn’t like a lost man. It was like someone studying the place."
Vinodhini shivered. She didn’t know why, but she felt that this wouldn’t be the last time they saw him.
Shatrughan walked upstairs to finish his remaining work. Vinodhini, too, walked toward the kitchen to continue cooking. Then, she noticed something—something was missing from the house. The wall looked empty.
Wasn’t there a photograph there?
She stepped closer. The faint rectangular outline and two nails on the wall confirmed her suspicion.
"Where is the picture?" she murmured, looking around. But she couldn’t find it anywhere. Shrugging it off, she continued her work.
Outside, someone was watching the family through the window. The drawing-room’s glass was fogging up with each breath from an unseen figure. The quiet cracking of the gravel masked his footsteps as he moved past the house.
The Next Morning
“GOOD MORNINGGGGGGGGGGG!” The TV anchor's energetic voice filled the house as a children’s show began. Aarum and Sushree sat in front of the TV, getting ready for school.
Shatrughan came downstairs, car keys in hand. He was ready to drop the children off at school.
Vinodhini emerged from the kitchen with their lunchboxes and placed them in their bags.
"Okay, now you both have to go. Finish your breakfast," she said, picking up a spoon and feeding them cornflakes.
Shatrughan drove the children to school. As Vinodhini stood at the door, waving goodbye, she suddenly felt a presence.
Someone was watching her.
She glanced around, but there was no one. Still, an eerie uneasiness settled over her.
She went back inside and closed the door. Turning off the fan, she started dusting the windows and tables. Then, she noticed something strange.
A handprint.
It was imprinted on the glass window. She placed her palm over it to compare. It was twice the size of her hand.
DING DONG.
The doorbell rang. Someone was at the door.
Slowly, she approached. Peering through the peephole, she saw… no one.
Hesitant, she opened the door slightly. Still, no one was there. Not a single soul. The street was empty.
She was about to close the door when she heard footsteps.
Turning her head, she saw a man standing to the right.
Her breath caught in her throat.
It was him.
The same old man.
"Oh… hi!" she said, forcing a smile.
"Hello, child. How are you?" he asked, his lips stretching into an unsettling grin.
"I—I’m good. How are you?" she replied, the uneasiness from last night returning.
The air shifted. A rotten smell filled the space between them.
"I am good," he said, his voice disturbingly calm. He continued to smile without blinking, his wide, round eyes staring at her, unrelenting.
"Err… I think I should get back to work," she said, forcing a nervous chuckle.
She quickly shut the door and exhaled deeply. Her hands trembled slightly.
Something was very, very wrong.
She slowly walked up to the window to check if the man had left her door. While she was still at the window, she felt the same uneasiness again. Once more, she had the distinct sensation of being watched. But she was sure she was perfectly hidden against the dark background of her room.
The man was no longer at the door. She sighed in relief. But then, something moved in the corner of her eye—a sudden movement. She turned and saw the same big, round eyes staring at her, unblinking. This time, there was no smile at all. A face—an emotionless face—was watching her with wide eyes. As soon as those eyes noticed that she was looking back, he smiled.
She shut the window, rushed into her room, and dialed her husband. Shatrughan was still on his way home after dropping the children off at school.
“Please come home. That strange old man is still here, and he’s giving me a really creepy feeling,” she said.
Several minutes later, Shatrughan arrived at the door.
DING DONG.
He stepped inside and saw that the whole house was dark. All the windows were shut, with the curtains drawn.
“What happened?” he asked.
Vinodhini was sitting on the floor, trembling. She pointed at something. He turned and saw a picture lying on the ground.
He picked it up—it was half-burned. Their family picture, the one that had gone missing.
“Who did this?” he asked.
“I don’t know. The last person at the door was that same old man,” she replied.
He pulled out his phone and called the police. Within minutes, they arrived at the house.
After listening to their account, one officer said, “Alright, we’ll patrol the area every hour. If you see the old man again, don’t open the door—just call us immediately.”
Before leaving, the police searched the surrounding area to ensure the old man wasn’t lurking nearby.
“Don’t be scared,” Shatrughan reassured her. “He’s just an old man—maybe suffering from a mental illness. Next time, just call the police first and wait for them. Don’t open the door right away.”
“Please don’t leave me alone,” she pleaded.
“Sorry, I have an important meeting today. But nothing will happen, don’t worry. I’ll come home early,” he promised before leaving for the office.
Vinodhini shut the door instantly. She was terrified—terrified of that old man, terrified of even thinking about him.
To distract herself, she decided to watch a movie. She turned on the TV and began flipping through the channels.
DING DONG.
Vinodhini froze.
Her heartbeat quickened. Who was at the door?
She gripped the TV remote tightly. Her palms were damp.
DING DONG.
A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. The air felt heavy, pressing against her chest. Her lips were dry, and she licked them nervously.
The house was silent. Too silent.
DING DONG.
Her breath hitched. Not again. Please, not again.
She turned her head slowly, her gaze fixed on the door. She felt it. A presence. Someone was standing on the other side.
Then—the smell. A strong, rotten stench filled the air.
She shivered. Sweat trickled down her back, dampening her clothes.
Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone. She needed to call her husband. But her fingers were slippery with sweat. The phone almost slipped from her grasp.
DINGDONG. DINGDONG. DINGDONG.
The ringing grew faster. Louder. Whoever was outside was growing impatient.
Her chest tightened. Her vision blurred. The walls seemed to close in.
And then—
KNOCK. KNOCK.
A slow, heavy knock.
Right against the door.
Summoning all her courage, she stepped toward it. She peered through the peephole.
No one was there.
She stumbled back, fumbling for her phone. She dialed her husband’s number. No answer.
She tried calling the police. No answer.
She was alone.
DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONG.
The whole house echoed with the relentless sound.
She clutched her ears and screamed, “STOPPPPPPPPPPPP!”
Silence.
The silence she had begged for. The silence she needed.
DING DONG.
This time, the sound was different. This time, it was pleasant. This time, it was accompanied by laughter—her children’s laughter.
Her children were home from school.
She rushed to open the door, pulled them inside, and hugged them tightly.
Tears welled up in her eyes. She had been so scared.
“Ma? Are you okay?” Aarum asked.
“Yes, beta, I’m fine. How was your day?” she asked, quickly wiping her tears.
“We studied, then played for two hours. It was fun…” Both children excitedly began recounting their day at school.
She watched them with the warmth of a gardener admiring freshly bloomed flowers. But even flowers have thorns.
A piece of paper peeked out of Aarum’s pocket. She pulled it out—it was an old photograph. A photograph of her, from her college days.
That same rotten smell thickened the air.
The pressure returned.
She couldn’t breathe.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“An old man gave it to me,” Aarum said casually.
“Who?” Her grip on Aarum’s arm tightened.
The lights flickered.
The air grew heavy with dread.
Her eyes filled with tears.
She knew who that old man was.
She knew her family was in danger.
Aarum said nothing. He didn’t know.
The children went to their rooms to do their homework, while she remained in the living room—alone.
She stared at the picture. It was her, standing with a group of friends. She remembered this moment. The photo had been taken with a Polaroid camera.
She dialed the police again.
This time, they answered.
“Hello? Yes, we’re patrolling the area near your house. There’s no one around,” they assured her.
“He was here,” she whispered.
The police came to her door again, they noted down every details she mentioned, she showed them the picture that she got from Aarum.
“This picture, he might get it from somewhere?” The officer said.
“No sir, look at it carefully, this was taken without consent, we were looking at something when this was taken.”
“You” The senior officer turned towards the junior officer. “Stay here, stay near the house and be alert. We need to catch this old man now.”
“Yes sir.”
The senior officer left the society while the other officer was patrolling around the house. This time, she felt a bit more relieved. She knew that someone was outside watching the house, guarding the house.
She went into the kitchen to make lunch for the children. She tried to be normal but deep down she was still scared. The lights of the drawing room were still flickering.
While she was in the kitchen, she heard the children giggling. Sushree and Aarum were talking. This made her heart feel ease. She slowly went up to check what they both were discussing about. As she opened the door, her feet froze in their place- a wave of unsettling smell covered her. There were two big round eyes looking at her, the same set of eyes which she was scared of. That old man was in her balcony and the children were talking to him.
Vinodhini screamed, her voice raw with terror. The old man’s pale lips stretched into a wide, unnatural grin. His bony fingers gripped the rusted balcony railing as he leaned toward the children, who giggled as if they had no idea what was happening.
“Sushree! Aarum! Get away from him!” Vinodhini rushed forward, but her feet felt like they were sinking into the floor. The air grew heavy, thick with the stench of something rotting.
The old man’s hollow eyes never blinked.
Sushree turned to her mother, her small face confused. “Why, Mumma? He’s been telling us stories.”
The old man then waved ‘bye’ and slowly climbed down the balcony using the pipe. Vinodhini rushed to grab her children and closed the balcony door. She grabbed them downstairs and started calling the officer. The officer picked up.
“Hello?” He said.
“That old man was in my balcony.” her voice was trembling.
The officer rushed towards the house, he checked every corner around the house but found nothing.
“But, how can he climb up to the balcony if he is old?” He said.
“I saw him. He was talking to my children, he could have come into the house, you were not patrolling, you were not on guard. I am still in danger.” She started crying.
“Mam, kindly listen to me. If he actually was here, I would have seen him. But if you are that much scared, let me call some more officers to guard the house. I hope that will help.”
She cut the call and then turned towards her children.
“Don't talk to that old man. He is a bad man.” She tried to explain them.
“Why ma? He was telling us the stories how you used to wander around in the school in the free periods. He is very funny.”
“He was telling you what?” She was shocked.
“Ha and he also gave us your photo.” Aarum showed her a new picture that he got from the old man.
The picture was of her when she was in 11th. She was wearing the school dress and was walking down the road. Chills ran through her spine. She fell on her knees.
“From how long this man has been stalking me?” She thought.
She picked up her phone and called her husband.
“Please come back now.” She said.
“Yes, I am on my way. Don't be scared. Also, I heard that the officers have increased the number of guards around the house. It will be safe.”
There was a motor sound from the background, Shatrughan was driving his car. They cut the call and she sat on the sofa under the fan. She was again sweating out of fear.
Few hours went by, everything seemed fine. There was a smell in the air, the strange smell.
“Might be the dustbin.” She turned towards the dustbin in the kitchen.
Both the children were sitting on the sofa, no one was allowed to go upstairs alone. Shatrughan came back. She hugged him, she felt relieved.
“Calm down. Soon either he will be caught or he will leave us alone.” He said.
It was the night time now, everyone had dinner. It was the children’s bedtime. They all were sleepy except her, she was too scared to sleep. The children went to their room to sleep and Shatrughan too went to sleep. While she was still sitting on the sofa. Again few hours passed by, everything seemed normal, everything was silent until the children started giggling.
Again the same strange smell was in air, she ran upstairs. She saw the balcony door was open, the children were sitting on their bed looking towards their mother. She slowly entered their room and locked the door again.
“Who opened this door?” She asked while turning on the lights.
CLICK.
The lights of drawing room turned off. She turned around, to notice slowly all the reflections were going dark, all the lights were turning off slowly.
She grabbed her children, without making any noise she went into her bed room to wake her husband.
She slowly started shaking him while looking towards the door. He was not answering, so she started shaking him harder. While shaking, she felt a wetness. A warm liquid around his body. She turned on the lights, Shatrughan was in the pool of blood. The whole bedsheet was red out of his blood. She screamed. She screamed with her lungs out. Her scream was followed by a laughter, a laugh, a maniac laugh, which was coming from downstairs.
“We have to leave this house as soon as possible.” She grabbed her children and slowly started walking downstairs. She knew that leaving the house won’t be that easy but she still wanted to leave. She looked around, there was no one.
A shark clang echoed from kitchen. There was someone in the kitchen. She slowly walked towards the main door.
A flash enlightened the house. The old man with his old polarized camera was standing in the drawing room a few steps behind her.
“This will be your last photo from this camera.” He said.
“What do you want?” She asked with a loud voice.
“Nothing darling. I just wanted to be with you.” He said in his coarse voice.
“Be with me? Are you insane?”
“Yes, I am insane in the love for you. You have been my crush since you were young.”
She hid the children behind her.
“Why don’t you just leave us?”
“Leave you? I have been always around you. Whenever you went to school, when you were coming back, when you were bunking the classes, when you were going to college. That time I was very sad, I thought I wont be able to see you anymore but somehow again I was behind you.”
“Why, why, why?”
“Because you were my crush darling. I removed the one obstacle we had between us. Now these two.” His eyes turned towards the children.
She felt her body tremble, but fear quickly turned into something stronger—rage.
He had taken enough from her.
Her eyes darted to the table beside her, where a heavy porcelain vase sat. Without hesitation, she grabbed it, feeling the cool weight in her trembling hands.
The old man chuckled. "Oh, darling, what are you going to do with that?"
She didn’t answer.
With a guttural scream, she swung the vase with all her strength.
The impact sent shards of porcelain flying as the vase shattered against his temple. He stumbled, blood oozing from the gash, his eyes rolling wildly.
"You—" he gurgled, but she didn’t let him finish.
She grabbed a jagged piece from the broken vase and lunged.
With all the fury she had bottled up for years, she drove the sharp edge into his throat.
His body convulsed. Blood spurted, staining her hands, the floor, the walls. He gasped, his hands clawing at the wound, his lips forming silent words.
She watched as the life drained from his eyes.
He collapsed in a heap. Still.
Silence filled the room, broken only by the children's muffled sobs. She turned to them, pulling them close, her hands shaking as she whispered, "It’s over."
But as she took a step back, something fluttered to the ground near his body.
A photograph.
She hesitated before picking it up, her breath catching in her throat as she turned it over.
It was an old, faded picture of a little girl.
A girl no older than five.
A girl with pigtails, wearing a familiar red dress.
Her dress.
Her face.
A picture of her, taken years ago.
Her stomach twisted. How long had he been watching?
How long had she been his crush?
The room suddenly felt colder, suffocating.
The photo trembled in her grasp as she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe.
She looked down at the lifeless body of the man who had haunted her.
Now, she wasn’t afraid.
Just sickened.
With a slow, deliberate motion, she dropped the photo onto his blood-soaked chest.
Then, without another word, she turned away, holding the children close, and walked out of the room.
The room flashed again. The camera clicked. One last picture. The last picture.
The End.
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