Not peaceful.
Dead quiet.
Years had passed since Ravi disappeared.
People said the house had eaten him.
No one went near it anymore.
But one evening, a young school teacher named Anaya arrived in the village. She was posted there for work and rented a small room nearby.
From her window, she could see the haveli.
Every night at exactly 2:17 AM, one light turned on inside.
Always the same room.
Curiosity slowly defeated fear.
One rainy night, Anaya walked toward the haveli, holding an umbrella and a weak torch.
The gate opened on its own.
Inside, the air smelled of old incense and forgotten prayers.
She heard footsteps.
Soft.
Careful.
Someone was sweeping the floor.
An old man stood there, holding a broom.
His back was bent. His face was pale. His eyes were empty.
"Uncle… are you okay?" Anaya asked.
The man slowly looked at her.
It was Ravi.
But not really.
His lips moved without sound. Then a whisper escaped:
"Don't stay."
Behind him, shadows gathered.
Walls began to breathe.
The rocking chair started moving.
Creek… creek…
Anaya ran.
She never looked back.
The next morning, villagers found muddy footprints near the haveli gate.
Only one set.
Inside the house, a new portrait appeared on the wall.
A young woman holding an umbrella.
And beside it, Ravi's picture finally closed its eyes.
Sufon
Some places do not kill you.
They keep you.
They turn you into silence,
into footsteps,
into warnings for the next visitor.
And the haveli still waits.
Because hunger never ends.