Convoluted

All of us were confused and confounded when Viraj said that he had been looking for a haunted house.

‘Are you serious? You want to live in a haunted house? Are you crazy?’

‘I believe that we have always reviled and ill-treated the ghosts and the spirits for no true reason. I want to make amends for all the sins committed by men against all unearthly beings. I want to share my world with them and live in harmony with them.’

His reasoning was no doubt complex and convoluted. But all of us could see his determination in his eyes.

‘Your search ends now. I know a house that’s haunted. You can buy it. But I shouldn’t be blamed if anything horrible happens to you or your family,’ said Zohaan.

‘Nothing would happen to us, I have no doubt about that,’ Viraj said confidently.

He bought the haunted house; in fact he could negotiate a real bargain.

‘Is that house really haunted?’ we were all curious and asked Zohaan.

‘No. He is a pretentious fellow and I want to expose him. Let him come and tell his scary stories about the ghosts and then I will reveal the truth.’

Viraj’s wife was not sure if they were doing the right thing, ‘I am really scared of ghosts.  We should not have moved in here.’

‘My dear, how would I have got a house at half the price if it were not haunted? And don’t you worry; it’s not a haunted house for there’s no such thing as a ghost.’

But later that night itself Viraj woke up with a start; he thought that he had heard a strange coughing sound.  He looked around. The night light was off although he was certain that they had left it on.

He felt there was someone in the room. He tried to switch on the night light but his hand touched something that was ice-cold and flabby. He almost screamed in terror.

He fumbled for a few seconds before he managed to switch the light on. A dim blue light spread in the room like a morning mist. He looked at his wife. She was sleeping like a baby. There was no one in the room except them.

‘Was she coughing? No, I must have been dreaming,’ he muttered and went back to sleep.

He had hardly fallen asleep when he felt a cold, flabby hand on his throat. Someone coughed, almost in his face. He couldn’t suppress a scream.

‘What’s wrong….a bad dream….and don’t grab my throat again,’ his wife mumbled in annoyance.

**********

Post for A to Z Challenge 2016

You may like to read B for Boiler Room here

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