Granny and the Silent Graveyard

At night, the village of Rampur was silent and dark. Only Granny walked slowly on the narrow dusty road that led to the old graveyard beyond the thick banyan trees. People in the village said she had lost her mind after her grandson Aarav disappeared one hot summer evening. They whispered she spoke to shadows inside the graveyard.

Granny always carried a small brass lantern. The flickering flame barely lit her way as she entered the graveyard where old stones leaned against each other and names were long gone. No one was buried there now. The villagers said the soil was cursed from a tragedy long ago. But Granny did not care. Every night, she came back.

She would sit near a plain, unmarked stone, placing sweets and water beside it. Her voice was soft. “Eat, beta,” she said, her wrinkled fingers trembling. Sometimes she laughed quietly in the dark as if a child answered her. 

The Shadows Inside

They said the old woman had gone mad. The grandchildren whispered it when they thought she was asleep. Neighbours who once greeted her at the gate now crossed to the other side, shaking their heads. She had begun talking to the corners of her house, scolding shadows no one else could see. When her daughter placed trembling hands on the admission papers, the destiny of the old woman was sealed.

The asylum stood at the edge of the city, surrounded by trees that never seemed to sway, as if frozen in time. Its gates opened with a groan that seemed to echo too long, as if unwilling to let her leave once she entered. The walls inside were damp, with stains that looked like faces melted halfway into the plaster. The smell of bleach mixed with something older, like dust that had been locked inside for decades.

Her room was bare: a narrow bed, steel railings, a small covered window, and a single dim bulb that buzzed at night. Silence here was different. It didn’t soothe her—it pressed into her chest until she felt she could not breathe. 

The Mirror in Granny’s House

Granny’s old house stood at the edge of the village, hidden by twisted trees and overgrown vines. No one came near it anymore. The walls, once white, were now stained with moss, and the windows always seemed too dark—as if they were hiding something behind them.

The villagers whispered that shadows followed Granny, and they weren't wrong.

For many years, she had felt them. Shadows that slipped under doors. Shadows that breathed against her neck when she was alone. Shadows that whispered in corners, calling her name in voices that sounded like forgotten lullabies. But whenever someone came to check, there was nothing. No footprints. No sound. Just Granny, pale and shaking.

But now, the house was quiet. Her children were grown. Her friends long gone. Granny was alone with the shadows.