Haunted Stories of my Past (Supernatural #2)

 

Scar and the Reality

More than movies and books, it’s the personal experience of people that would have a huge impact on them. The Motor Room Monster incident was one of those incidents. My childhood was filled with such incidents. There was the monster under bed incident, then there was the suicide ghost on the terrace incident.

I couldn’t able to get the logic behind it all at that point. Later when I think about it, the laughter was nothing but the laughter of the guys behind me. In the moment, I thought that the laughter was coming from inside the room. Then the blackness is nothing but the result of my friends switching off the only light source, in front of the motor room, as soon as I entered the room. Then the thunderous sound is nothing but the guys trying to lock me up by shutting the door with an exploding sound.

I spent more than one hour inside the motor room until my family rescued me. Until that point, my mind started playing games and I started hallucinating ghosts inside the motor room. (or am I?)

The point I want to put here is that these personal experiences would always be inside us as a mental scar(e). Even though I know these are all crap and that my mind is playing games with me, deep inside, I would always have the fear of isolation.

I don’t want to spend time with myself. I always wanted to be in a crowd or at least with someone. Fortunately, I had a kid brother. So, I never felt isolated and I had the fear of isolation under control. (But as I became old, I found my solace in my isolation. That’s a different story)

When we get old, we learn a lot. We start to identify the truth in our paranormal experiences. Some may get convinced that they really had paranormal experience, and some may crack the truth in it and laugh at that supposed paranormal experience. I had my revelation on the truth of Motor Room Monster incident after experiencing my second paranormal incident. It goes on till we attain a saturation point of finding the truth. I had my saturation point when I became an atheist.

But being atheist didn’t stop me from feeling the paranormal. Absurd it may seem, there were more scary things than one’s personal experience of paranormal activities.

Word of Mouth

I was in my teens. It was the time when I attained by puberty. Dreams of horror location became dreams of erotic location. The dreams where I would wander in the forests alone became dreams where I find girls naked in the caves of those forests. And it was a lot of caves!! (double entendre mothafuckaa)

It was also the time I started isolating myself. I loved being in my own company. I also never stopped being in a group, but the fear of loneliness busted into smithereens. I was living in Karur by this time and my family was renting a house in a compound. (a large land mass composed of a collection of houses) I made friends with the guys in the compound and I was neither the small boy nor the big boy. I was in the middle.

We used to play a lot of cricket. After playing cricket till sunset, we never took rest. We would clean ourselves, eat some snacks and regroup ourselves in the terrace. Those were the days where we cared about nothing else except ourselves. The Terrace sessions were very special to me because we boys used to talk a thing from cartoon to coitus, from history to hentai.

It was on one of those terrace sessions, my creep meter levelled up.

Freak of the Week

Saturday evenings were the best. We boys gather up on the terrace and we would have one of the best times in our lives. Every week or so, one of us would share a horror story. And every Saturday night would be very much unnerving. All I would do was watch Aditya Channel after the terrace sessions. Or any other channel that provided Comedy.

Some of the best stories where the lady in the haunted house, Ghost baby in the cricket ground, Red Saree woman in the haunted hospital and so on…

As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, I used to go jogging on morning with my friend Uzumaki. And he told me a story that haunted me for a whole week. Every time I close my eyes, the story’s climax creeps in my mind.

I never imagined it to end like that. And when it did, it frightened the shit out of me.

The name of the story is The Red.