The letter arrived on a day that felt… wrong.
Aarav Mehta noticed it the moment he stepped out of his apartment. The air was heavier than usual, thick and unmoving, like the world itself was holding its breath. Even the stray dogs that usually barked endlessly in the alley were silent.
Waiting.
Watching.
The envelope lay on the ground near his door.
Old.
Yellowed.
And sealed with a dark red wax stamp.
Aarav frowned. "Who even sends letters like this anymore…?"
He bent down and picked it up. The paper felt unusually cold—colder than it should have been. Almost like it had been sitting in ice.
Or… somewhere worse.
He shook off the thought and tore it open.
Inside was a single sheet.
No greeting.
No explanation.
Just a message.
"The property now belongs to you.Do not open the Seventh Door.— Father"
Aarav froze.
His fingers tightened around the paper.
"…Father?"
The word felt foreign in his mouth.
His father had been dead for ten years.
At least… that's what everyone told him.
🚪
Three days later, Aarav stood in front of the hostel.
It loomed in silence at the edge of a forgotten hill road, surrounded by dying trees whose branches twisted like skeletal fingers. The building itself was massive—but broken. Windows shattered. Walls cracked. Paint peeling away like old skin.
A rusted sign hung crooked near the gate:
"Shantivan Boys Hostel"
The wind whispered through the iron bars, producing a low, haunting hum.
Aarav exhaled slowly."So this is what he left me…"
Not money.
Not answers.
Just… this.
A place no one wanted.
The caretaker was supposed to meet him.
But no one came.
Of course.
Aarav pushed the gate open himself. It creaked loudly, the sound echoing far too long—like something deep inside the building was repeating it.
Listening.
Inside, the smell hit him first.
Dust.
Rot.
And something faintly metallic.
Blood?
No. That was ridiculous.
"…Just old pipes," he muttered.
The reception area was frozen in time. Broken furniture. A fallen clock stuck at 3:07.
Aarav paused.
"Why that time…?"
For a brief moment, he felt it again.
That strange heaviness.
Like something unseen had just… noticed him.
🚶♂️
He explored deeper into the building.
Every step echoed.
Every shadow felt too dark.
Every hallway too long.
Until—
He found it.
A corridor.
Different from the rest.
Cleaner.
Untouched.
Like time had avoided it.
Seven doors lined the walls.
Each identical.
Each closed.
Aarav stepped closer.
"…Seven rooms?"
He tried the first door.
Locked.
Second.
Locked.
Third.
Locked.
All of them.
Except—
He stopped.
His breath hitched.
At the far end of the corridor…
There was no seventh door.
Just a blank wall.
"…That's weird."
He counted again.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
And then—
Nothing.
No space for a seventh.
No hidden gap.
Just concrete.
Aarav laughed nervously."Guess the old man lost count."
But something about it didn't feel like a mistake.
It felt…
Intentional.
🕒
That night, Aarav decided to stay.
He didn't believe in ghosts.
Didn't believe in curses.
Didn't believe in things that whisper in the dark.
But he did believe in answers.
And this place… had too many questions.
The electricity didn't work.
So he lit a candle.
Its flame flickered violently, even though the windows were closed.
Outside, the wind had died.
Inside, something felt… awake.
Aarav lay on an old mattress in what used to be a dorm room.
Sleep didn't come easily.
The silence was too loud.
Then—
A sound.
Soft.
Faint.
Almost… like breathing.
Aarav opened his eyes.
"…Hello?"
No response.
Just silence.
He sat up.
Listened.
Nothing.
"…I'm just tired."
He lay back down.
Closed his eyes.
And then—
A whisper.
"Aarav…"
His eyes snapped open.
Cold air brushed past his ear.
His heart slammed against his chest.
"…Who's there?!"
No answer.
Only darkness.
Then—
He heard it again.
Closer this time.
Right behind him.
"Aarav…"
He spun around.
Nothing.
No one.
Just shadows.
The candle flickered violently.
Almost going out.
And for a split second—
He saw it.
On the wall.
A shape.
Not a shadow.
Something else.
Something that shouldn't be there.
A handprint.
Dark.
Wet.
Slowly sliding down the wall.
Aarav's breath stopped.
"…That's not possible…"
Then—
The clock in the room clicked.
Even though it was broken.
Even though it shouldn't work.
3:07 AM
And somewhere deep inside the building…
A door creaked open.
But Aarav knew the truth.
There were only six doors.
So what…
Just opened?
To Be Continued…