The Calm Before the Chaos
Before Naresh began painting, an invisible force drew him to the edge of the terrace. The unnervingly still night gleamed under a bright, otherworldly moon. Below, Rehman, the Muslim driver, paced deliberately in the parking lot, murmuring prayers on his rosary. The soft whispers drifted upward, wrapping Naresh in what felt like a fragile sense of calm—an imagined lifeline to a reality that had already begun to slip through his grasp like sand.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, the suffocating weight over his free will eased. A flicker of clarity appeared, faint yet luminous, like dawn piercing a heavy fog. Rehman paused in his pacing, his gaze meeting Naresh’s with a solemn nod, as if silently offering strength. Naresh nodded back, a fragile energy rising within him, grounding him for a fleeting moment before he turned to the easel.
Naresh stood before the blank canvas, his brush trembling as he stared at Geeta, fully disrobed and seated on the model’s chair. The flickering oil lamp cast shadows that danced unnaturally, warping her flawless form into something both alluring and grotesque. For fleeting moments, the shadows stretched her features, twisting her beauty into a haunting blend of seduction and menace, as though supernatural forces pulsed through her. She radiated an unshakable confidence, her piercing eyes locking onto Naresh, daring him to defy her. The magnetic pull of her gaze froze him, caught between attraction and paralyzing dread.
He dipped the brush into the palette, but his hand trembled as he approached the canvas. It wasn’t resistance he felt—it was defiance, as though the canvas carried a will of its own. The air grew icy, numbing his fingers and slowing his every motion. Each stroke faltered, the colors fading into lifeless smears, the lines dissolving into chaos. A faint hum buzzed in his ears, low and insidious, mocking his every move. It wasn’t hesitation; it was as if the canvas was alive, twisting his intent into failure and leaving him paralyzed before its blank, accusing surface.
Geeta’s Wrath and Revelation
Geeta, seated with her eyes closed, seemed to sense a disturbance. Her eyes snapped open, locking first on the chaotic lines on the canvas, then on Naresh. Her voice sliced through the heavy silence like a blade. “Why did you stop?” she demanded, her tone trembling between anguish and fury. Her fists clenched at her sides, trembling as though barely containing an eruption of emotion. “Do you see nothing of what I’ve become? How can you still be so blind?” Her voice cracked, the suppressed rage within her breaking free like a storm unleashed.
Naresh’s hands shook as he stammered, “I… I don’t know. It feels… wrong.” His eyes flickered nervously to Geeta, caught between fear and guilt. Was it her presence, suffocating his will, or just the weight of her silent, accusing gaze that paralyzed him? The air thickened around her, pressing down on him, stealing his breath in shallow, desperate gasps.
She rose to her full height, towering close to six feet, her presence commanding and unrelenting. Her hand swept across her body, her voice shaking with fury and anguish.
“Look at me! I’ve made myself perfect! Every curve, every breath, every inch of me has been sculpted to this perfection—and yet you refuse to see me!”
Her tall frame trembled with raw emotion. “Do you remember? In school, they laughed at me for being skinny, awkward, and too tall. Do you know what it took to become this?”
She gestured fiercely at her long, toned legs, stepping closer with deliberate strides that demanded attention.
“These legs—even models would envy them. My body—flawless in every way, crafted beyond human perfection. But you refuse to admire me, Naresh! You refuse to cherish me, to make me eternal on that canvas!”
Her chest heaved, her trembling hands curling into fists as her rage erupted. “Why can’t you paint?” she roared, her voice rising to an unearthly pitch, her fury crashing over Naresh like a tidal wave. “What am I to you? Nothing?! A ghost?!”
Naresh stammered, his voice barely audible, "I... I don't know. Something feels wrong."
Her expression twisted, hardening into fury. She paced restlessly, her sharp, volatile movements barely containing the storm within. A vein pulsed at her temple, her hands trembling as they clenched into tight fists, brimming with suppressed rage.
“Wrong? Of course something’s wrong! You’ve never tried for me!” Her voice cracked, her buried resentment erupting like a dam bursting under unbearable pressure.
“You ignored me in school—me! I was the shy girl in the back row, invisible and unwanted, watching you laugh with everyone else, giving your attention to anyone but me!”
Her voice grew shrill, trembling with anguish and rage. “I stayed up at night imagining you looking at me, Naresh, seeing me. So many sleepless nights, yearning for just one look, one acknowledgment of my presence—let alone admiration. But you never did! Instead, you ignored me, or worse, joined others in mocking me. Mocking me for what? My looks? My awkwardness?!”
Tears glistened in her eyes but did not fall, her rage burning them away before they could betray her vulnerability.
She gestured violently at herself, her body trembling with raw emotion. "Do you see this?" she bellowed, her voice sharp and cutting. "I’ve changed everything! From the awkward, skinny girl you laughed at in school, I’ve transformed into this—a woman unmatched, beyond perfection. Every curve, every step, sculpted into something even dreams can’t create. These legs? Models would kill for them. This body? Flawless, divine, and yet, Naresh, you look through me like I’m nothing. You refuse to see me, to cherish me, to give me eternity on that canvas!"
Her words cut the air like a blade, dripping with rage and anguish. “What am I to you? Nothing?! A joke?! A ghost?!”
Naresh froze at the word "ghost" repeated with such venom. The word clung to him like icy tendrils, each syllable a harbinger of unspeakable horrors. His breath hitched, his heart pounding in terror as his mind spiraled, grasping for a way out of the nightmare unraveling before him. Every nerve in his body screamed to flee, but he remained rooted, paralyzed by the dread that her words promised something far worse to come.
The Transformation
Her breathing quickened, shallow and erratic, as her flawless curves rippled unnaturally, the symmetry of her form twisting into grotesque distortions. Cracks snaked across her skin, faint at first, like fractures in porcelain, but rapidly widened, glowing with a sickly, pulsing light. Her sculpted arms contorted, the elegance of her fingers elongating into jagged, claw-like talons. Her heaving chest, once a symbol of allure, collapsed inward before surging outward, exposing writhing tendrils beneath her flesh. Each crack emitted brittle, haunting sounds, like shattering glass under relentless force. Her long, graceful legs bent at impossible angles, bones snapping audibly as jagged protrusions burst from beneath her skin. The fissures glowed brighter, as though something malevolent within her fought to escape, warping her beauty into a living nightmare.
"I loved you, Naresh!" she shrieked, her voice cracking into a guttural, otherworldly wail. "You were my first crush, my first love. Do you even know what that means? All those years I kept it hidden, waiting for just one moment, one glance, one sign that you saw me! But no, you barely noticed me! And now—now, I've become everything you could ever dream of. Every curve, every breath, perfect beyond your imagination! And still, you look through me as if I don’t exist. As if I’m nothing!" Her voice climbed, trembling with anguish and fury, resonating with an unearthly power that vibrated through the terrace. "You never deserved me, Naresh! You never deserved this! All you gave me was emptiness, and now it will consume you!"
Naresh stumbled back, his breath catching as the terrace turned icy, frost forming in the air with each ragged gasp. His legs wobbled, threatening to give way under the crushing weight of his fear. “Geeta, please,” he gasped, his voice breaking with desperation. “This isn’t you. Please, come back to yourself! End this nightmare!” He clung to the faint, desperate hope that her monstrous form would fade, that the woman he once knew would return and bring this horror to an end. Silent prayers escaped his lips, fervent and pleading, as he stood trembling, his mind caught between terror and a fleeting glimmer of salvation.
The Specters Descend
She let out a laugh, hollow and chilling, reverberating like an echo from the abyss. “Too late,” she hissed, her voice descending into a guttural snarl that warped the air around her.
“You had your chances, Naresh. All your life, opportunities to see me, admire me, cherish me, worship me. And every time, you failed.” Her voice rose, trembling with conviction and fury. “It’s over now. There’s nothing left to save. You deserve what’s coming.”
Reality itself seemed to ripple, as though her words bent its fabric. The ground beneath Naresh’s feet shuddered, faint but foreboding, a grim prelude to the horrors unfolding. Her burning eyes, twin orbs of malice, flared brighter, casting a jagged, otherworldly glow that pierced the suffocating darkness.
“Sreejoy! Jayanti! Choudhary Sir! Finish him!” she roared, her words resonating like a death knell, slicing through the air and summoning the shadows into grotesque life.
Sreejoy! Amidst the chaos, Naresh froze at the sound of the unfamiliar name. It echoed with a weight that pierced through his terror. Who could it be? The question barely formed in his mind before the answer emerged in front of him, as if summoned by the sheer force of its utterance. Name the devil, and it appeared.
The air thickened with an unnatural chill, shadows writhing and coiling like serpents, their hissing whispers slicing through the silence. From the blackened edges of the terrace, figures emerged, each one more grotesque and terrifying than the last.
Naresh realized Sreejoy was none other than Geeta's reclusive son—the boy who had always lingered silently in the shadows, his gaze unsettling yet fleeting. Naresh had often caught glimpses of him, only for the boy to vanish the moment Naresh tried to confront him. Now, the same quiet child emerged, shrouded in a dense, swirling mist that pulsed with malevolence, coiling like a living, breathing entity. The mist pressed against Naresh’s senses, heavy and suffocating, carrying the weight of unspoken horrors. Sreejoy’s unblinking eyes locked onto Naresh, cold and accusatory, their silence more damning than any scream. Once quiet and aloof, the boy now radiated pure dread, his presence choking the air and sapping Naresh’s strength as though his very malice could crush him.
Jayanti followed, her translucent form flickering like a broken reflection in shattered glass. Her hollow eyes overflowed with despair so profound it seemed to drain the air itself. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream, an endless void of anguish that pulled everything into its emptiness. Her skeletal hands trembled, clawing desperately at nothing, as if grasping for a salvation that would never come.
Choudhary Sir followed Jayanti, his movements stiff and unnatural, each joint creaking with a sound that grated against the silence. His limbs bent at impossible angles, as though manipulated by unseen strings. His head lolled unnaturally, swaying like a broken pendulum, while his lifeless eyes glowed faintly, locking onto Naresh with a predatory emptiness. The sight froze the blood in Naresh’s veins, every instinct urging him to flee as dread tightened its grip.
The specters moved as one, their malice choking the air and pressing down like a crushing weight. Shadows coiled tighter around Naresh, their icy tendrils searing his skin as frost formed on his trembling body. Jayanti’s flickering despair, Choudhary Sir’s grotesque malice, and Sreejoy’s oppressive silence merged into a singular force, a living nightmare that stripped Naresh of all hope. He staggered, gasping for breath, as the terrace seemed to groan under the weight of their wrath. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move. Trapped and shaking, Naresh clung to the faint, desperate hope that he could survive the horror suffocating him.
“Hold him,” Geeta roared, her voice a guttural snarl that tore through the frigid air like a shockwave. The words reverberated unnaturally, layered with echoes that seemed to come from unseen, malevolent forces. “He will not escape. Not this time!”
Naresh’s instincts screamed for him to flee, to leap over the terrace edge and escape the nightmare, but his legs felt like lead, frozen by paralyzing fear. His chest heaved, panic flooding his veins, every nerve alive with terror. The apparitions advanced, their oppressive presence crushing the air around him, suffocating his every breath.
Jayanti’s skeletal fingers stretched toward him, frost crystallizing on his skin with each icy touch, stabbing his spine with searing chills.
Choudhary Sir’s empty, predatory gaze locked onto him, draining his resolve, as if his very willpower was being siphoned away into the abyss.
And then there was Sreejoy—the boy’s unblinking, silent stare pierced him like a dagger, its malice so intense it made the ground beneath Naresh tremble, threatening to collapse. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his mind spinning in chaos, caught between fight and flight. But his body betrayed him, rooted to the spot, consumed by terror that devoured every shred of hope.
“Finish the painting, Naresh,” Geeta thundered, her voice cutting through the frigid air like a blade. Each word hit with the force of countless unspoken horrors, her blazing eyes burning into him, twin orbs of fury and vengeance. “Pick up that brush! Paint! Or let the night consume you completely.” Her voice deepened, layered with an unnatural echo, a command that carried finality and doom.
Naresh froze, his mind racing as terror gripped him. How could he paint when Geeta stood before him in her ghastly form, her beauty twisted into something monstrous? The thought of her nude painting filled him with dread, the image now an impossible blur of horror and confusion. He stammered, his voice trembling, “Geeta… Jayanti… Choudhary Sir… What are you? Why are you doing this? Please, return to your normal selves. I’ll do anything you ask—just stop tormenting me. Even you, kiddo, please.”
The Final Command
Geeta's fury erupted like a storm. Naresh's desperate plea for their forgiveness and for them to return to their normal selves only pushed them further, shattering any last thread of mercy. For them, his fate was sealed. Her voice rang out, cold and commanding.
“Finish him,” she ordered, her tone like the tolling of a death knell. “Bring him to our world. Let’s see if he can serve us there. On this earth, his story ends.”
With that, she turned to Sreejoy, Jayanti, and Choudhary Sir, entrusting them to finish what she had started.
A Fight for Survival
Chaos erupted. Shadows coiled and hissed like serpents as the specters swarmed Naresh. They slammed him against the parapet wall, his head hitting the stone with a sickening thud. He flailed, desperate to break free, but their grip tightened, crushing him against the cold stone.
Jayanti’s skeletal fingers tore at his skin, icy claws leaving trails of frostbite that bit deep into his flesh, each scratch like fire and ice colliding in agony. Choudhary Sir jerked forward, his mechanical limbs creaking with every unnatural step. His talons lashed out in precise, brutal swipes, carving into the air as though preparing to tear the life from Naresh. Sreejoy’s unblinking eyes locked onto Naresh, their cold malice piercing straight to his soul. The mist surrounding the boy thickened, slithering like living tendrils, coiling tighter around Naresh, choking him with oppressive dread.
They clawed at his veins, as if trying to rip them open, each touch a chilling agony that seemed to freeze the blood in his body. Naresh gasped, his breath choking in the malevolent air, his mind spinning with desperation. His every attempt to fight back was futile—his hands thrashed, his legs kicked, but their spectral weight crushed him further into submission.
“Geeta, please!” he screamed, his voice hoarse and trembling. “Stop this! Let me go!” But his cries were swallowed by the night, leaving him to face the overwhelming force of his attackers as the darkness closed in.