I bought a new apartment. There was nothing about it in the very least picturesque or attractive, for it was the just an ugly speckle of the society. Yet to me, it was really sweet and fascinating or probably just the cheapest one amongst all I had seen. There were some strange stories about it, which I decided to turn a deaf ear to. From the very first day I received parcels of flesh, human flesh I guess and the boxes would always be empty by the next morning. I called the police. Nobody ever visited my house because of all the stories. I have a habit of hanging my hand, while sleeping, at the edge of the bed. Many a times I felt like someone was trying to grab it. I always believed that I was dreaming.  There were times when I used to notice a spot of blood or two and at other times there were bits of skin on my hand when I woke up. Obviously I was scared but it would probably cost an arm and leg for another apartment. One day, at the dead of night, I heard a munching sound from under the bed. I thought it might be the thieves. I leaned down to have a look and was terrified. I immediately withdrew. A person, who didn’t seem like one, was eating the flesh which I receive every day. A cannibal lived with me in my own house. After a moment, I intentionally hanged my hand at the edge of the bed. My doubts were clear now. He tried grabbing it. I was too scared to get down from the bed. A bearded, muscled man, or whatever he was, was under my bed. He seemed more like an animal to me because of the way he was eating flesh. It appeared as if he hadn’t eaten for days, but then it struck to me that he always eats the flesh I receive. My heart thumped against my chest. My stomach churned into tense cramps. I crunched my teeth over my lip and salty liquid filled my mouth. Before my sensory receptors could tell me about the blood in my mouth, I realised that the munching sound had stopped. I had this curiosity to look under the bed but somehow my neck just got stiff and refused to have a look. I didn’t posses that much courage to look. But my curiosity was greater than my courage and finally bowed my head under the bed. There was nothing, neither the cannibal and nor the flesh. I was relieved and thought it was an illusion. I was about to go back to sleep but there I saw something which made me feel gravity never existed. There it was on the ceiling standing upside down, ready to grab me! 




Hello people 🙂 I am honestly surprised that I was actually considered for the nomination of The Liebster Award by ANAKHA RICHU. Thank you so much for this. Do check out her blog. She definitely has a way with her words. 

The Rules:

  • Thank the blogger that nominated you!
  • Answer the questions from the blogger that nominated you
  • Nominate 5-11 blogs
  • Ask the bloggers 10-11 questions

    Here comes the hard part, nominating other bloggers. Since each one of them is amazing in their own way. 

      So here are the answers to Anakha Richu’s questions:

      1. What you find more interesting in blogging?

      Here, I come across different kinds of people sharing their unique thoughts in such beautiful ways. It’s really interesting to know how talented people are, from around the globe.

      2. Why did you start blogging?

      One fine day, I made a friend named Ankur Sinha and happen to go through his work on WordPress. It was then that I realised, I can actually use this platform for my stories. 

      3. What is love to you?

      Something or someone that makes you believe that world is a better place to live. 

      4. Which song you like to hear when you are sad?

      I don’t have any specific, but yes a song loud enough so that you can’t hear your own thoughts. 

      5. Do you have a special friend?

      Of course, I do. Many. I call them my paw friends. They have brown eyes, messy hair, cute nose and four paws. Dogs, obviously ❤

      6. What do you want to do in future?

      Adopt all the homeless dogs ❤ Have a life that is worth living for. Adventures, because they make me feel alive. 

      7. What will you gift me if we meet once?

      Probably a great publisher’s name 😉

      8. What you hate most?

      PEOPLE. Duh, what more could you expect from an introvert 😂

      9. What do you expect from your life partner? 

      I would want him to be understanding. In order to handle me, he would need to have patience on a whole another level 😅 So yeah, patience in abundance. That’s it, I guess.

      10. Will you continue blogging forever?

      I would love to continue blogging forever, unless my mind decides to stop popping spooky ideas. 


      1. Some of your favourite books and movies, you would recommend people.

      2. What is the best piece of advice you have ever given/read/received?

      3. What is on the top of your bucket list?

      4. What advice would you give to your future and your past self?

      5. If you get 24 hours and have a permit to do anything you want, how would you spend those 24 hours?

      6. Favourite stand-up comedian.

      7. Road trips or flying? Why?

      8. One positive word for yourself.

      9. An experience you would like to tell the world.

      10. What makes you happy?

      11. What is your comfort food?

      I will be looking forward to your answers 🙂



      A week ago, my newborn sister entered our house. As she entered, she passed such a sweet smile, probably her first smile, that the house was filled with a kind of pureness I never knew existed in the world. When she was born, our house was under renovation. A thick front door was built with no sign of newness. It was scratched and dented with chipped brown varnish with a brass coloured lock and a dull door knob. It was just like a cuboidal box along with a safety chain dangled at the side of it, a pointless gesture for such an extraordinarily thick door. My parents had to go out of town for some urgent work so it was just me and my sister in the house. The door was peculiar. It used to swing on its own when my sister used to move. It used to creak when my sister made noise. Its creaking sound seemed like a dying animal, crying out its pain and sorrow with its last breath. People advised to break the door as it gave out negative vibes but I turned a deaf ear to them. For me, they were nothing more than naive superstitions–until that evening. That evening I had to go out for some work and locked the door from outside in case my sister toddles out of the house. When I returned I unlocked the door but it was jammed. My sister made a gesture with her pink small hands from the terrace, which probably meant “welcome back”. I waved back. I pushed the door many times but all of my efforts went in vain. Somebody suggested breaking the door. Honestly I didn’t really want to break it but I was left with no other option, so I got some tools from the shed and after numerous failed attempts, I finally broke the door. I found something or rather someone. I don’t know what it was but it surely looked like my sister, as if they were twins but this thing had cuts and bruises. It stared vacantly at me. It had no lips; I could see those teeth stained with blood. Its appearance made me feel like a thousand tiny spider legs went scuttling down my back. I’ll be haunted by the sight of it to my dying breath. My reflex action made me take a sharp tool and chop off its head! Its head landed on one of my hands. After a few nanoseconds, my sister’s head tumbled down from the terrace on my other hand!



      A cosy couch, a velvety blanket, a hot cup of coffee and an amazing book means a perfect Saturday night for, at least, a bibliophile like me. But as it is said that perfect things hardly last; so, mine was interrupted with the sound of flowing water. I went to check the bathroom in case I left the shower on, but there I stood terrified near the door of the bathroom. What was a masked man doing in my bathroom? Bathing, that too with blood? Yes, blood was flowing through my shower! I could only see his eyes because of the mask. Within a few minutes, the flesh from each part of his body shredded into pieces, while passing through the bathroom strainer and down the pipe. The strainer literally seeped the man before my eyes. I could hardly believe my eyes. Slowly, I went inside to look through the strainer. Those fiery red eyes glared at me. At once I withdrew. The whole incident scared the hell out of me. I wanted to believe it was a dream but, I could see the blood flowing through the shower which was still on. When I was about to turn off the shower, I noticed it was already in an off position. I felt blue, but somehow managed to reach the drain where all the waste gets collected from my bathroom. I leaned forward to have a look at it when someone tapped on my shoulder. I turned around to face that someone. Suddenly I wanted to scream but my efforts went in vain. There he was, the masked man with each part of his body properly attached. The images of the incident which took place in my bathroom a few minutes ago flashed in my mind. “Were you searching for me or my shredded pieces?” he asked in his husky voice and passed a devilish grin. Between huffs and puffs, I reached home. A headstone caught my attention at my backyard. It was a grave. I never saw it in months’ time. Grabbing some courage, I dug it to find a large brown coffin. With shaky hands, I opened it. A dead body lay there peacefully, but it was not just any other person’s corpse, it was the masked man’s corpse with open eyes, those fiery red eyes which haunts me till date. The gravestone said he died 10 years ago. I wondered if it was a hallucination. I went up to my bathroom. By that time the flowing blood from my shower had stopped, but my bathroom looked like a swimming pool of blood. There I realised it was not hallucination. My bathroom walls were stained with bloody hands along with a message written with blood: “You’re the next to be seeped up!”



      I used to visit the graveyard once a week to put a rose in front of each gravestone to show my respect towards the dead ones. The coming week was full of work so I decided not to go there. The week passed and I received an audio clip from a private number. I played it. “Why didn’t you visit me this week? I miss you.” I wondered from who this clip could be. From that day onwards I felt like I was not the only person living in the house. It seemed someone else was also there like a shadow, that never left me. I could feel his respirations on my shoulder, like he was leaning over me, but I never succeeded in finding him. My extrasensory perception told me it was a ‘he’. A month passed and I couldn’t visit the graveyard for some reasons. Finally my birthday arrived and I decided to visit the graveyard in the wee hours, after a long time. “Welcome! At last you’re here.” I looked in the direction from where the voice had come but found no one. This made my blood run cold. I was about to run for my life but there stood a cadaver in front of me. It was not a skeleton; I could see his pale skin, dried blood all over his face. I guessed he had attractive features when he was alive which were now spotted with angry bruises. Suddenly the air was no more fresh. I could smell rotten meat, a typical butcher shop’s odour. A blood curdling scream escaped my oesophagus. The moment I came back to reality, he was standing next to me. “I won’t harm you, I just want us to be together”, he said. He forcefully made me watch a movie. The movie was all about a corpse in love with a human and wanted to be together, so he killed the human and their corpses lay in one coffin. “A happy ending”, well, that was what he believed. For me the movie was definitely creepy. “Can I make this fictious story into a real one?” He passed an evil grin to reveal his dirty black teeth smeared with red. Probably it was blood. It was the hair-raising sentence I had ever heard. He wasn’t expecting a reply, I supposed, nor was I in a state for that. “Here take this gift and a very happy birthday to you”, he handed me a big box. An invisible force made me open it or maybe I was somewhat curious. A chopped off head. The box was filled with blood; I couldn’t see her face as her hair was in front of it. Slowly, I removed her hair to reveal my face! Wait…what? My face? It was indeed my face.



      “On a stormy night, everyone is supposed to stay at home.” This is what he told me, well, in my dreams, my nightmares. It indeed was a stormy night. The thunder was loud enough to scare small children and animals. It had been raining since afternoon, heavily. The roads were filled with puddles. All the grounds were muddy. I admire rain a lot, so I put on my boots and went splashing water everywhere on the streets. There were crumpled up papers all over the road and know not why, one caught my attention. I bent to pick it and straightened it. It was a newspaper. An old one probably but then, it had tomorrow’s date on it. Wait, what? Did I say ‘tomorrow’s date’? Well that was an unbelievable truth. I was wondering how this could be possible and then, I saw that face, that familiar face, it was his picture with a caption ‘MURDERER’. He looks scary in my dreams-err-nightmares but in the picture he looked quite handsome. He has a perfectly lined jaw and grey eyes with black rimmed glasses. He surely was handsome except for his crooked half smile that never reached his eyes. I kept the newspaper in my pocket, pushed aside my overwhelming thoughts and kept walking. At a distance, I saw a person in all black with an umbrella. The road was empty, no cars, no animals, and no people, except the two of us. As we came nearer, I could recognise his face although it was very dark. I suppose the street lights weren’t working. He came up to me and without a word shared his umbrella. The umbrella didn’t help much as I was already drenched in water. The umbrella was relatively small for two people due to which there was only an inch of gap between us. We were almost brushing our shoulders against each other every now and then. Each time our shoulders touched I flinched. We walked in silence but my mind had a question which didn’t come to my throat. My voice kind of got stuck, maybe I was too afraid to utter. After some more walking, he said something, something that I heard clearly, something which made my heart pound loudly. He replied to my unspoken question. I slowly took out the newspaper, from my pocket, which I had picked up from the streets. All of a sudden, my legs started shivering, I went numb. After thirty odd seconds, somehow I regained my senses, threw that paper and ran as fast as I could. My legs ached but I couldn’t stop. I believed he was chasing me but fortunately I found none behind. Finally I reached home and his words were ringing in my ears along with my uneven heartbeats, they were somewhat like this, “Yes, you are right dear; I am the one who appears in your bittersweet dreams.” And the dreadful news I read in the paper, which made a chill ran down my spine, was before my eyes, not literally but figuratively. It still gave me goosebumps. There was obviously his picture in that wet piece of paper but this time, there was another picture, a picture of mine with a caption ‘VICTIM’.