Vinesh Tripathi looked out of the window at the snow-covered mountains, clouds hugging the distant peaks, and the fragrance of the deodars refreshing him. "This is it," he thought. "The ideal spot to begin my book. I will make this work."
He had to. Vinesh was once a bestselling author known for his romantic stories. For someone who was never genuinely passionate about writing and followed mass demand, he had done well for himself.
But his success didn’t last.
Vinesh soon found that his repeated formula wasn’t working. His sales dropped, and so did his self-esteem. The publishers who once awaited his manuscripts now avoided his calls. This reality check forced Vinesh to pack his bags and head to the hills for some serious inspiration. It was time for him to create his masterpiece, far away from the cacophony, and revive his lost reputation.
His agent had managed to find a house with a tranquil view. The exterior was beautiful with a princely old-world charm about it. There was local talk about it being haunted, but that didn’t bother him one bit. He was, however, curious and wanted to know more. A little folklore could be interesting.
The rattling of china brought him back from his reverie. Vinesh had hired help, Chandu, to do the cooking and cleaning during his stay. Chandu was arranging the evening tea and snacks on a table when he smiled and said, “Here is your tea, saheb.”
Vinesh deeply inhaled the mountain air and turned to his servant. “Thank you, Chandu. Tell me something. Why does everyone think that this house is haunted?” asked Vinesh.
Chandu’s smile vanished. He looked uncomfortable. But after some prodding, he agreed to narrate the tale he had grown up listening to.
“Decades ago, this house had belonged to an English officer,” he began. “During his stay, he met and fell in love with a merchant’s daughter. Soon, they decided to get married. At first, the girl’s father was not in favor as he had doubts about the officer, but he gave in to his daughter’s desire. Their wedding was a pompous affair.”
“But their relationship began deteriorating. The officer started belittling her. He accused her of not being beautiful enough, slim enough, caring enough… so much so that the girl started believing it all. Whenever she looked into the mirror, she would blame herself for not being the kind of wife her husband wanted her to be. She would always see the flaws highlighted by him in her reflection.”
“Then one day, by chance, she saw him secretly meeting with another girl and repeating the very same things he had told her when they were courting. He was cheating on her. She realized that he was a sadist who thrived on the idea of making women fall in love and then shaming them. In that instant, something shifted inside her.”
“When the officer returned home that evening, he went straight into his room to wash up. He wet his face and looked up to see his wife’s reflection behind him. With her head tilted and her eyes spewing anger, she said, ‘I thought I was the one with faults, but it was you. You made me believe that I wasn’t good enough… when the truth is that it is you who aren’t good enough.’ The officer stood rooted to the spot, shocked by her ghastly appearance. ‘You are not good enough… to live…’ she whispered.”
“Instantly, she grabbed his head with her hand and slammed it into the mirror. His painful screams echoed through the house, but she didn’t let go. She wanted more. She took a big chunk of broken glass and stabbed him repeatedly till he went limp. But she still wasn’t at peace. Not able to bear the thought that she had let him manipulate her, she stabbed herself with the same shard.”
There was silence in the room. Chandu looked at Vinesh and continued. “She still wanders here, smashing heads and killing men. On moonless nights, no one dares come near this house. Many guests have died here. They see her reflection behind them in the mirror. The screams can be heard till my house on the mountaintops. Please, saheb, look for another place. It is not safe!”
“Oh please, Chandu,” Vinesh guffawed. “These are just folk tales, imaginative stories concocted by some villager,” he said. Chandu thought to convince him again but realizing that it would be of no use, he sauntered back to the kitchen.
After Chandu left, Vinesh sat there, deep in thought. Being afraid of the unknown was the last thing on his mind. Rather, he was excited. This story could make a great book! Not only would he be foraying into a new genre, but he could also easily access the house and speak to the locals for details. This could be his next hit!
Over the next few days, he typed fervently. He gathered details and shaped the story further using his imagination. Within a week, he had his manuscript ready. Vinesh couldn’t believe that he had done it! With excitement, he sent the manuscript to his publisher. He was sure that it would be his golden ticket to fame.
Exhausted by all the work he had put in, Vinesh got up from his desk to freshen up. He washed his face and looked in the mirror. He could see dark circles forming under his eyes. Just then, a cold breeze blew in from somewhere. He looked to check if the window was open, but it wasn’t. He looked back into the mirror and that’s when he saw her. She stood with her head slightly tilted, and a sly smile playing on her lips. Vinesh froze on the spot.
Higher up in the hills, Chandu was preparing for bed when he heard a blood-curdling scream from afar. He went to his window and glanced below. The heavy cover of mist forbade anyone to see what happened down there, especially when it was dark and moonless, like tonight.
Author Bio
Chitra Iyer, a dedicated bookworm since childhood, transitioned from reviewing books as a stay-at-home mom to becoming an accomplished writer. Over a decade of reviewing experience honed her storytelling skills, leading to several wins in writing competitions and publications in anthologies and websites. Chitra specializes in crafting fiction, with a focus on mysteries, crime, and thrillers, while occasionally exploring romantic narratives. Additionally, she contributes her expertise as a proofreader, collaborating with authors to refine their manuscripts.
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