“Tick tock, tick tock,” the pendulum swung across the rusty brown grandfather clock. Until, finally, it chimed, “Ding!” and then the eerie silence of midnight followed. Startled, I leapt behind and then realized today would be the day of doom for me -- I had stayed outside past curfew.
Anyone in my family who stays outside home past 9pm was essentially required to find refuge anywhere else but my “mother’s house,” considering her strict house rules. I quickly gathered my pile of books and got out of the library, heading out into the foggy night for a walk down the lane.
Winter had arrived. The trees were standing still on the empty roads, and there were no signs of a living being to be seen anywhere around. No doubt, everyone preferred staying in their cosy beds and warming themselves up with a cup of hot chocolate, rather than staying at the library till midnight like me. “Oh, I must be a nerd,” such thoughts ran through my head as I dawdled along in self-contempt.
Dhanmondi 27 was unusually quiet that night. The echoes of traffic and people were missing. The strangling aura of the merciless winter made the night seem scarier and alerted caution in me as I walked vigilantly down the street.
A few moments later, I started to hear steps behind me; a breath to be felt and a shadow to be seen, but when looking behind, the road laid barren. My heart sank and my mouth had dried up with a chilly, fearful sensation running through my veins. I was too scared to look back anymore.
The faster I walked, the louder the sounds would get. But I kept defiantly walking until I finally reached the doorstep of the red house and made a stop. This was also known as the infamous haunted house of Dhanmondi 27. Rumour had it that there was a brutal and horrific death here on the third floor of the house and that the victim’s ghost terrorized the building. Even having studied my entire life in the area, I had only heard of such stories, but never saw anything spooky.
Still, on that particular night, the whole building seemed unexpectedly quiet. The guards were usually there to forbid us and usher us out every time we tried to enter the house, but today was an exception. The relief of having gotten rid of the sound of the pursuing footsteps mixed with my prolonged desire to enter this house, made me curious to enter it. So I decided to go up the lift to the third floor. I unlocked the door, and let myself in. The loud creaking door opened to a large empty and abandoned hallway.
As I stood in the hallway, a tiny toy car approached my feet. Suddenly, it roared to life with its wheels spinning ominously, and chanting in the voice of a child, "Undisciplined kids must be punished," as it kept rolling closer and closer to me. My heart was ready to jump out of my chest.
Was I hallucinating or was it all real? I wasn’t able to process this bewildering situation nor decide on any action, until I heard the front door of the apartment close. I immediately rushed downstairs in a panic to get out. Suddenly I saw a shadow behind me. My fright may have killed me because my soul certainly left my body. It took me a minute before I finally gathered enough courage to look behind.
I was met with a deafening siren. It was my friends blowing party poppers on my face! I had completely forgotten my own birthday. With the colours slowly returning to my skin, I was at peace knowing it was just my friends who were following me around and trying to scare me. The night of malfeasance came to an end. Were the stories of the house of Dhanmondi 27 a myth?
Arita Haque is a student at Oxford International School, Dhaka.
