Ansh had always been a light sleeper, but that night, sleep never even tried to reach him.
The ceiling fan above hummed its familiar rhythm, a lazy, mechanical lullaby that usually drowned the noise in his head. But tonight, his thoughts were louder than ever. He lay still, eyes wide open, ears straining to hear something — anything — that might explain what had just happened.
Because for a split second, the wall in front of him had vanished.
In its place: a narrow train track cutting through a dense forest, bathed in moonlight. A woman, barefoot and panicked, running. A train horn blaring from somewhere deep in the night. Her scream, sharp and sudden.
Then, blood. Spattered on cold metal.
And just as suddenly, it was gone.
The white wall returned. The familiar cracks, the faint poster of a mountain range, his shadow stretched across it.
Ansh sat up slowly, rubbing his temples. The air in the room felt thick, like it had been sucked through a filter of static electricity. He reached for his phone, not even knowing why. Maybe he just needed something real to ground him.
1:37 AM.
He had several unread messages from a college group chat, but one stood out.
Ishu [1:38 AM]
Bro. U up?
Ansh:
Yeah. Can't sleep.
Ishu:
Same. Vaish's place tomorrow. Noon.
Ansh:
Sure.
He stared at the last message for a long time. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but he didn't type anything else. What could he even say?
The silence crept back in, heavy and watchful. He pulled his blanket over himself and tried to convince his brain it was just a dream.
It wasn't.
The next morning, the world felt … off.
It wasn't just the grogginess from two hours of sleep. The colors outside seemed a little muted. The honks of the rickshaws and scooters sounded sharper, more jagged. It was like the whole city had been tuned half a note lower.
Ansh kept glancing at people on the street as he walked to the bus stop. Was someone watching him? Was that same chill in the air still following him?
He met Ishu at the gate of Vaishnavi's building. Ishu looked like he hadn't slept either.
"Did you eat?" Ansh asked.
"No appetite," Ishu said. "You look like crap."
"You look worse," Ansh replied, managing a small smirk.
Vaishnavi's apartment was a warm contrast to the tension outside. Incense smoke curled lazily in the air, and soft classical music played from an old speaker. She greeted them in pajamas and messy hair, holding a tray with three mugs of masala chai.
"You both look haunted," she said bluntly. "Sit. Drink. Talk."
They did.
Ansh hesitated, staring into the swirling chai. The vision felt private, terrifying in a way he didn't know how to voice. But hiding it didn't feel right either.
"I saw something," he said. "Last night."
Vaishnavi didn't blink. Ishu raised an eyebrow.
"Not a dream," Ansh added quickly. "I was awake. My wall... it vanished. I saw a forest, a train, a woman running. Then she screamed. And then she was… gone."
Silence.
"Sounds like stress," Ishu said, shrugging. "Lack of sleep, too much gaming."
Ansh shot him a look. "I'm serious."
Vaishnavi leaned forward. "Did you feel it? Like a chill in your chest? Tightness in your throat?"
Ansh blinked. "Yes. Exactly."
Ishu scoffed. "Don't encourage him, Vaish."
She ignored Ishu. "I've had those too," she said softly. "Not often. But when they come, they're real. The first time, I was twelve. I saw a boy drowning in a lake. Three days later, that same scene was on the news. Right down to the yellow shirt."
Ansh felt goosebumps rise on his arms. "Why didn't you ever tell us?"
"Because it's not exactly easy to explain," she said. "And it scares me. But if it's happening to you now... it means something's changed."
Ishu folded his arms. "So what? You both have future-seeing powers now? Should I start calling you Oracle One and Oracle Two?"
Vaishnavi gave him a hard look. "You don't have to believe it. But don't mock it either."
Ansh stood and walked to the window. Outside, the city buzzed like normal. But something felt wrong beneath the surface. Like the world had developed a second layer — and he was just beginning to see through it.
"What if it happens again?" he asked.
"Then you write it down," Vaishnavi said. "Every detail. Time, place, emotion. We look for patterns."
Ishu groaned. "Great. Paranormal detective agency, coming soon to a YouTube channel near you."
Vaishnavi smirked. "Only if you're the comic relief."
That night, Ansh couldn't sleep again. He tried meditating, reading, even cold water on his face. Nothing helped.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall.
"Show me," he whispered.
As if in response, the room darkened. The fan slowed. The wall shimmered.
And the vision came again.
But this time, he wasn't just seeing it.
He was there.
The scent of damp leaves. The cold air stinging his skin. He stood on the train tracks, the moon high above. The woman from before was ahead, stumbling. She turned.
Her eyes locked onto his.
And she spoke.
"Ansh," she said. "You shouldn't be here yet."