The Curse of Kaalghati: A Road That Devours Souls
Hidden deep within the suffocating darkness of Kaludhar Forest, there exists a road no map dares to name clearly—a cursed path whispered about in fearful hush, known only as Kaalghati Road.
It’s not just a road.
It’s a wound carved into the earth, festering with something ancient, something evil.
It slithers through the jungle like a scar, its cracked asphalt strangled by roots, as if the very ground is trying to swallow it back, to erase its existence from memory.
No one sane travels Kaalghati after sunset.
Not because of the stories.
Because of what’s left behind.
When dusk falls over the jagged peaks of Rudragarh Hills, the jungle shifts. The air thickens, laced with the scent of decay and something metallic—like rust… or blood.
The towering trees lean in, their twisted branches clawing at the sky, blotting out the last slivers of daylight.
The wind dies.
The silence isn’t peaceful.
It’s oppressive.
Broken only by faint whispers—not carried by the breeze but seeping from the trees themselves.
Those who dared to take Kaalghati Road after dark were found—
but only in pieces.
Their bodies surfaced days later, scattered along the roadside or tangled in the suffocating vines of Kaludhar Forest.
Eyes gone. Not plucked, but forced out, as if they had seen something so horrifying their very souls tried to escape.
Hearts ripped from chests, not with clean surgical cuts, but with gaping, raw wounds—as if something had reached inside and stolen them.
Some were found hanging from branches, tied with ropes made from their own intestines—their faces frozen in expressions of unspeakable horror.
And the worst ones—those not entirely dead—were found crawling, blind and broken, muttering things that didn’t make sense.
“Eyes in the dark… watching… watching…”
“She walks without feet… her smile… her smile is wrong!”
“I heard my mother calling… but she’s been dead for years.”
The villagers of Shivtara, the nearest town, don’t speak of Kaalghati openly.
When they do, it’s in whispers—as if the road itself might be listening.
They talk of shadows that slither without light.
Of unseen hands scratching from beneath the ground.
Of voices that sound too familiar calling from the trees.
And of figures that look almost human… but not quite.
After sunset, the road doesn’t just get dark.
It wakes up.
And it’s always hungry.
The Shortcut to Hell
The sun hung low, dipping behind the jagged peaks of Rudragarh Hills, casting an eerie orange glow over the dense canopy of Kaludhar Forest.
The evening air was thick—heavy with the scent of damp earth and old wood.
A midnight-black Ford Bronco roared down the dusty road, leaving behind a swirling trail of ash-like dust—as if something had already burned here before.
Inside the SUV sat six friends—all excited, oblivious.
All unaware of what lay ahead.
The Passengers of Doom
Aryan – The driver. Built like a warrior. Fearless, strong, a gym freak. His sculpted arms gripped the steering wheel with ease, veins bulging slightly as he flexed unconsciously with each turn.
Kabir – The exact opposite. Timid, cautious, always uneasy. His fingers fiddled with his watch strap, his gut twisting with a feeling he couldn’t shake.
Vikram – The loudmouth. The life of the party, always armed with a joke to cut through tension—though sometimes, laughter feels like whistling past a graveyard.
Riya – The wild one. Adventurous, impulsive. The heartbeat of the group’s chaos. She leaned forward, squinting at her phone’s map.
Nisha – Quiet, observant. The group’s reluctant conscience. The one who noticed things others didn’t. The one who felt things before they happened.
Sanya – The youngest. Playful, carefree. Her face was half-lit by the soft glow of her phone as she tried to capture the perfect selfie with the dying sun.
“Guys, we’ll save two hours if we take this shortcut,” Riya chirped, excitement lacing her voice. “The highway’s jammed. Do we really want to sit there like losers?”
Kabir shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know… I’ve heard stories about Kaalghati Road. People say it’s… cursed.”
Vikram snorted. “Bro, seriously? You sound like my grandma. It’s just a road.”
Aryan smirked, “Exactly. Roads don’t kill people. People kill people.” He laughed at his own dark joke.
Sanya giggled. “Let’s go! What’s the worst that could happen?”
As they neared the entrance, an old, rusted sign emerged from the weeds—its letters barely legible, worn thin by time and neglect:
⚠ DANGER. DO NOT ENTER AFTER 5 PM. TURN BACK NOW.
It was 4:58 PM.
Aryan laughed, tapping the steering wheel mockingly. “What is this, a movie set? ‘Turn back now’? Sure, spooky sign. I’ll get right on that.”
Kabir’s voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe… maybe we should listen.”
Before anyone could respond, an old woman appeared.
Out of nowhere.
Right in the middle of the road.
She was hunched, wrapped in tattered shawls, her face a roadmap of wrinkles.
Her **milky-white eyes—clouded yet piercing—**locked onto theirs.
She raised a trembling hand, pointing directly at them.
“Murkh ladkon… ruk jao. Wapas jao. Yeh raasta shraapit hai.”
(Foolish children… stop. Go back. This road is cursed.)
The Bronco screeched to a halt, dust billowing like smoke around the tires.
Aryan leaned out, his grin forced. “Aunty, you okay? Need a ride to hell?”
Vikram’s laughter filled the car—loud. Too loud.
But the old woman didn’t move.
Her lips trembled as she rasped,
“Yeh raat acchi nahi hai… tum wapas jao. Aaj andhera bhookha hai.”
(Tonight is not good… the darkness is hungry.)
For once, Nisha’s voice cut through the noise.
“She’s serious. We should turn back.”
Riya rolled her eyes. “It’s just an old woman trying to scare us.”
Without another word, the woman turned.
And vanished into the trees.
No footsteps.
No rustle of leaves.
Just… gone.
Kabir stared, his breath hitching. “Did she just… disappear?”
Vikram waved him off, though his voice lacked its usual bravado. “Bro, chill. She probably just walked into the trees.”
Aryan revved the engine. “Enough drama. We’re going.”
As the Bronco surged forward, the sun dipped below the horizon.
Drowning the world in darkness.
Behind them, the sign swayed gently in the breeze.
Ahead of them, something waited.
Watching.
Hungry.
The Curse of Kaalghati: The Road That Devours (Part 2)
The Endless Loop
The Bronco roared through the darkness, its headlights cutting through the thick fog that had begun creeping onto the road like a living thing.
Inside the car, the air had changed—dense, suffocating.
No one spoke. No one dared to acknowledge the sudden pressure in their chests.
Then Aryan saw it again.
A rusted warning sign standing eerily in the middle of the road.
⚠ DANGER. DO NOT ENTER AFTER 5 PM. TURN BACK NOW.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles going white.
“What the…?” he muttered under his breath. He swerved slightly to avoid it, convincing himself that maybe someone had moved it there as a prank.
But then—ten minutes later—it was there again.
Same rusted letters.
Same ominous warning.
Aryan’s chest tightened with an unspoken fear.
He didn’t say a word. He kept driving.
Then he saw it again.
For the third time.
His foot slammed on the brakes.
The tires screeched violently, the Bronco jerking to a stop, throwing everyone forward.
Vikram groaned, rubbing his chest. “What the hell, man?!”
Riya snapped, brushing her hair from her face. “Are you trying to kill us?”
Aryan didn’t answer.
His breath came in short, uneven bursts.
His eyes were locked on the rusted sign, illuminated by the car’s headlights.
It stood exactly where it had been before.
His voice was barely a whisper. “I… I don’t get it.”
Kabir frowned. “Aryan, what’s wrong?”
Aryan’s jaw clenched. He forced himself to speak.
“We’re in a loop.”
His voice was hollow, distant.
“This road is cursed.”
A thick silence filled the car.
Sanya let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, nice joke. Not funny.”
Aryan turned to Nisha, urgency in his voice. “Give me your digital map.”
Without a word, she handed it to him.
Aryan’s hands trembled as he turned on the GPS.
The screen flickered before stabilizing.
His heart nearly stopped.
The map showed only two points.
The beginning of the road.
The warning sign.
Nothing else.
No middle. No progress. No destination.
It was as if they had never moved forward.
His breath hitched. His throat dried up.
He twisted in his seat, facing them all.
“We’ve been driving in circles. The road… it won’t let us leave.”
The Collapse of Sanity
A heavy silence settled over the car.
A silence filled with dread.
Kabir shook his head violently. “That’s not possible. We’ve been driving straight!”
“Then explain this!” Aryan snapped, holding up the GPS.
The realization hit like a hammer.
Sanya clutched her phone, her hands trembling. “No… no, this isn’t real.”
Riya, normally so fearless, had turned pale.
“Okay… okay, let’s think.” She took a shaky breath. “There has to be an explanation.”
“There isn’t.”
Nisha’s voice was quiet. Cold.
Her expression was unreadable, but there was something dark in her eyes.
“It’s the road.”
Vikram’s voice cracked. His usual bravado was gone.
“So what the hell do we do now?”
Silence.
Then—
A sound.
A sudden burst of static.
The radio crackled to life.
A sharp, unnatural hiss filled the car, the distorted sound slithering into their ears, sending a cold chill down their spines.
The station hadn’t been on.
Aryan hadn’t even touched it.
The static morphed into whispers.
Low. Hushed. Not human.
The voices overlapped, whispering in an unknown tongue. Twisting syllables. Clicking noises. Guttural breathing.
Aryan’s pulse spiked.
He reached out, twisting the knob, trying to shut it off.
The whispers only grew louder.
He slammed his palm against the dashboard.
“TURN OFF, DAMN IT!”
Then—
The radio spoke.
“YOU ALL DIE.”
A voice not of this world.
Deep. Hollow. Final.
Aryan’s blood ran cold.
His hand tore the radio from the dashboard, yanking it free.
Sparks flew as he hurled it out the window.
It should have stopped.
But the whispers continued.
The static hummed from nowhere.
Sanya clutched her ears, sobbing. “MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!”
Kabir’s breathing grew frantic.
His eyes darted wildly.
“We’re all going to die!” His voice cracked with raw terror. “We need to get out! We need to get out!”
“Kabir, calm down!” Riya pleaded, grabbing his arm.
He ripped free.
“I’M NOT STAYING HERE!”
Before anyone could stop him, Kabir flung open the door and ran.
Straight into the darkness.
“KABIR! NO!” Aryan bellowed.
His footsteps pounded against the asphalt.
His figure disappeared into the mist.
Riya leaped out. “Come back, you idiot!”
Then—
A sound.
A deep, guttural honk.
Headlights appeared.
A massive bus came barreling out of the fog—
Rusted. Groaning. Screeching like a dying animal.
No driver.
No passengers.
Just empty seats—watching.
Kabir turned his head—
Too late.
The impact was merciless.
The bus hit him at full speed.
His body crumpled like paper, bones shattering as he was dragged under.
Screams ripped through the night.
The bus didn’t stop.
It kept going.
Disappearing into the fog—
As if it had never been there.
All that was left—
A smear of blood.
And Kabir’s mangled remains.
Riya fell to her knees, sobbing.
Sanya collapsed against the car, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.
Vikram, face pale, stumbled forward.
“I—I have to check,” he whispered. “Maybe… maybe he’s still alive.”
“Vikram, don’t!” Aryan grabbed his arm, but he shook him off.
He took slow, hesitant steps toward what was left of Kabir.
The road was wet with blood, pooling around the mangled corpse.
Then—
A whistle.
Low. Mocking.
Vikram’s eyes darted up.
Something was moving.
The wind howled.
A dark blur sliced through the air.
A double-headed axe.
It came from nowhere.
Spinning. Twisting.
Hurtling toward him.
Vikram had no time to react.
The blade slammed into his skull.
A sickening crack.
The axe cleaved his head in two.
His body twitched—
Then collapsed.
Lifeless.
Vikram’s lifeless body lay motionless on the road, his blood pooling around the double-headed axe, its blade gleaming under the eerie glow of the Bronco’s headlights. A faint whistling echoed through the darkness—low, mocking, inhuman.
The Aftermath of Death
Sanya collapsed against the Bronco, her sobs breaking the eerie silence that had fallen over the night.
“Vikram… Kabir… oh my God…” Her voice cracked, choked by grief. She clutched her chest, her fingers digging into her skin as though she could hold herself together. But her hands trembled violently. Her breathing came in ragged, uneven gasps.
Riya stood frozen, unable to look at the mangled remains of their friends. Her stomach twisted violently, bile burning at the back of her throat. She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut, her hands clamping over her ears as if she could block out the horror.
“No.” She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “No. No, this isn’t happening. This isn’t real.”
But it was.
Aryan stood still, his muscles locked in place, his heart hammering like a war drum. The blood-soaked road stretched before him, Vikram’s body lying still, the axe buried in his skull.
Kabir’s remains were barely recognizable, a smear of blood in the place where the phantom bus had run him down.
Aryan’s fingers twitched at his sides. He had to think. He had to stay in control.
They were dying—one by one.
He turned to the three survivors—Riya, Nisha, Sanya. His voice was rough, urgent.
“Did you notice?”
Nisha wiped a single tear from her cheek, her face pale but focused. “What?”
Aryan exhaled sharply, his eyes flickering between the blood-stained pavement and the jungle that pressed against them like a living thing.
“Both of them died when they were alone.” His voice was low, grim. “Kabir ran off. Vikram stepped away.”
He turned to face them, his next words haunted.
“Whatever is hunting us… it’s picking us off one by one.”
Riya’s breath hitched.
“You’re saying… if we stay together—”
“We might have a chance,” Aryan finished.
Sanya shuddered violently. Her voice was a whisper, laced with regret and terror.
“We should have listened.”
Everyone turned to her.
She wasn’t crying anymore.
Her vacant stare was locked onto the empty road, her body trembling.
“The old woman,” she whispered. “The warning sign.”
She buried her face in her hands.
“She told us to turn back. She told us the darkness was hungry. And we ignored her.”
Silence.
A cold wind slithered through the trees, and with it came a sound.
A low, hoarse chuckle.
It wasn’t the wind.
It was something else.
Something that was close.
Something that was watching.
Aryan’s head snapped up.
“Get in the car. Now.”
Trapped in a Metal Coffin
They didn’t hesitate.
They bolted toward the Bronco, slamming the doors shut, locking themselves inside.
The moment Aryan pressed the lock, the vehicle felt smaller.
Tighter.
Suffocating.
Sanya curled into herself in the backseat, her entire body shaking uncontrollably.
Riya hugged her knees to her chest, her breath coming in short, rapid gasps.
Nisha sat stiff, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze locked onto the road outside. Her expression was dark. Thinking. Calculating.
No one spoke.
They could still hear it—
The laughter.
Low. Hoarse. Mocking.
It curled through the air like smoke, slipping through the cracks, sinking into their bones.
Aryan’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel. He could feel it.
Something unseen. Something hungry.
The Bronco felt like a metal coffin.
The air inside thickened, pressing down on them.
Every inhale felt wrong.
As though something else was in there with them.
Outside, the trees stood still.
The wind wasn’t moving.
Yet the darkness felt alive.
Nisha’s gaze didn’t leave the bloodstained road.
Her voice was quiet, eerily calm.
“We need to wait for morning.”
Aryan turned to her, his brow furrowing. “What?”
Nisha swallowed, then unfastened her seatbelt as if she had just accepted something.
“These things… these energies—they’re strongest at night,” she said. “That’s why everything is happening now. The deaths. The whispers. The loop. If we make it to morning, it’ll be over. We’ll be free.”
Riya let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “How do you know that?”
Nisha finally turned, meeting her gaze.
“I don’t.”
Her voice was steady. Absolute.
“But I feel it.”
A tense silence settled between them.
Then she turned toward the dark jungle, her voice firm.
“I don’t think the entire place is cursed. Just the road.”
Aryan’s grip tightened on the wheel. His instincts screamed at him to stay in the car.
To lock the doors.
To wait this nightmare out.
But deep down, he knew.
The car hadn’t saved them.
The road hadn’t saved them.
If they stayed here—
They would die.
Aryan’s voice was low. Grim.
“You’re saying we should go into the jungle?”
Nisha nodded.
“Yes. We leave the road. We wait for morning. Then we drive.”
A pulse of dread rippled through the car.
The jungle was an abyss.
It swallowed the light.
It swallowed the wind.
Who knew what was lurking inside?
But then again—
They already knew what was lurking on the road.
Sanya sniffled, wiping at her tear-streaked face.
“I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Riya exhaled sharply, rubbing her arms.
“I hate this… but I think she’s right.”
Aryan stared into the twisting darkness beyond the headlights.
Finally—
He nodded.
“We move together. No one gets left behind.”
Nisha reached for the handle.
The moment the door opened, the cold rushed in.
Thick. Damp.
Carrying with it a scent of wet earth and something metallic.
One by one, they stepped out.
The jungle loomed ahead.
Behind them, the Bronco’s headlights flickered.
Then—
They went out.
Total darkness swallowed the road.
And from the trees—
Something moved.
The Forest of Shadows
They walked deeper, pushing through the thick foliage, their breathing shallow, panicked.
The jungle felt alive.
Every step sank into damp soil, their movements deafening in the silence.
No wind.
No rustling leaves.
Not even the sound of insects.
Only the faintest echo of breathing.
Something was listening.
Something was waiting.
“We need fire,” Nisha whispered.
Riya nodded quickly. “Fire keeps animals away… and whatever the hell else is out here.”
Without another word, they moved, sticking close.
The darkness curled around them.
Shapes flickered between the trees.
No one spoke of what they saw.
Or what they thought they saw.
Finally, they found a clearing.
A massive tree stood at its center, ancient and scarred with strange markings.
It felt wrong.
But it was safer than the road.
“We stop here,” Aryan said, his voice hoarse.
They gathered branches, twigs, and leaves, piling them together.
Aryan pulled out his lighter.
A spark.
Then—fire.
The flames pushed back the darkness.
For the first time in hours, they felt a sliver of safety.
The jungle watched.
But it did not move.
The night stretched on.
The shadows lingered at the edge of the firelight.
And so, they waited.
Fearful. Exhausted.
But alive.
Waiting for the morning.
Waiting for hope.
The fire crackled softly, its glow flickering across the haunted faces of the four survivors. Shadows stretched and twisted across the jungle floor, mimicking the fear that coiled inside them.
The silence was unbearable.
Thick. Heavy.
Suffocating.
The jungle watched.
It didn’t move.
But it was waiting.
They sat close together, huddled in the false safety of the firelight.
But the night was long.
And none of them knew if they would see the morning.
A Whispered Plea to the Void
The silence stretched between them like a wound that refused to close.
The only sound was the faint rustling of the leaves, whispering secrets none of them wanted to hear.
Then—
A voice.
Fragile. Broken.
A whispered prayer.
“What has happened to us?”
Riya’s voice cracked as she spoke, her fingers digging into her arms, her body trembling.
She clenched her eyes shut, rocking slightly, her lips barely moving.
“God, save us… please.”
Her words hung in the air.
Swallowed by the darkness.
Vanishing like a breath against cold glass.
No answer.
No comfort.
Nothing.
Nisha and Sanya instinctively reached for her, pulling her into an embrace.
“Everything will be fine,” Nisha murmured.
Her voice was steady—too steady.
Like she was trying to convince the night itself.
The fire flickered.
For a moment—just a moment—they allowed themselves to believe her words.
That they would make it.
That the nightmare would end.
But it wouldn’t.
Not for all of them.
The Inevitable Need
Minutes dragged into an eternity.
The weight of the night pressed heavier on their chests.
Then—
A hesitant voice shattered the quiet.
“I… need relief.”
Sanya’s voice was almost embarrassed, but there was urgency behind it.
She shifted uncomfortably, pressing her legs together.
“I need to pee,” she admitted, barely above a whisper.
Riya immediately frowned.
“Hold it till morning.”
“I can’t,” Sanya murmured. “It’s bad.”
Aryan’s voice was firm.
“No.” His expression was hard, his grip on his knees tightening. “You have to control it.”
Sanya groaned, shifting again.
“I seriously can’t.”
The tension in the air deepened.
Then, Nisha let out a slow, controlled breath.
“I’ll go with her.”
Riya and Aryan stiffened.
“That’s not a good idea,” Aryan muttered.
But Nisha was already standing. “We’ll stay close. Remember, it only hunts when we’re alone.”
Sanya nodded quickly, grateful.
Riya hesitated. “Be fast.”
Aryan’s jaw clenched. “Stay where we can see you.”
They nodded.
And with that—they walked away from the fire.
They had no idea those would be the last words spoken between them all as a group.
A False Sense of Security
The jungle loomed around them, its shadows stretching long and deep.
Sanya and Nisha walked carefully, their breaths shallow.
Their footsteps felt too loud against the damp soil.
Every step forward felt like they were stepping into something unseen.
Sanya let out a shaky breath.
“You know… I actually feel okay here,” she admitted, glancing around. “The jungle doesn’t feel cursed like the road.”
Nisha nodded slightly, though her sharp gaze never stopped scanning their surroundings.
“Maybe we were wrong about everything.”
For a moment—**just a moment—**they believed it.
That they were safe.
That the road was the only evil.
They were so, so wrong.
The Pool That Called
Then—
Sanya’s eyes caught something shimmering between the trees.
A water pool.
The moonlight reflected off the glasslike surface, making it glow with an almost unnatural clarity.
Her chest tightened with excitement.
“Nisha, look!” She pointed eagerly. “There’s a pool over there! I’m so thirsty!”
“Sanya, wait—”
But Sanya was already moving.
Driven by pure thirst, she rushed forward, pushing through the undergrowth.
Nisha groaned and ran after her. “Wait for me!”
Sanya didn’t even hear her.
Her mind was laser-focused on the water.
She fell to her knees, cupped her hands, and drank greedily.
The water was cool, fresh—like crisp mountain spring water.
It felt pure. Perfect.
She sighed in relief, wiping her mouth.
“This is amazing,” she muttered. “It’s the best water I’ve ever had—”
She turned around.
And froze.
Nisha was gone.
Alone.
Sanya’s blood turned to ice.
Her head snapped left, then right.
“Nisha?”
Silence.
A thick, heavy void of nothingness.
A cold, suffocating knot coiled in her stomach.
“Nisha!” Her voice cracked with desperation. “This isn’t funny! Come out!”
No response.
Only the jungle.
Only the water.
Only the feeling of something watching.
Then—
A rustling.
She whipped her head up.
And saw her.
The Horror in the Trees
Nisha was hanging.
Suspended.
Entangled in the gnarled roots of a twisted, monstrous tree.
Her limp body dangled lifelessly, her arms twisted at impossible angles.
Her face was frozen in a silent scream.
And then Sanya saw her eyes.
Or rather—the empty, hollow sockets where her eyes had once been.
A gaping, bloody void.
Sanya’s legs gave out.
Her lungs failed to work.
Tears blurred her vision, but the sight never changed.
Nisha was gone.
Only her body remained.
The jungle had taken her.
Then—
A breath.
Behind her.
Cold.
Wrong.
Rotten.
A whisper.
“Look down.”
Sanya didn’t want to.
She couldn’t.
But her body moved anyway.
Her trembling hands lowered, her eyes slowly shifting to the water.
And then—
She stopped breathing.
No Shadow. No Soul.
The water, once crystal-clear, reflected the trees.
The moon.
The jungle.
But not her.
There was no shadow.
No reflection.
Nothing.
Sanya’s breath came in ragged gasps.
She frantically patted her arms, her chest—she was here.
Wasn’t she?
She turned back to the water.
Still—nothing.
A whisper curled around her like smoke.
“You’re already dead.”
The world tilted.
Her knees buckled.
The last thing she saw was Nisha’s lifeless body swaying in the tree—
And then—
The pool swallowed her whole.
A splash.
Then silence.
Like she was never there.
### **The Curse of Kaalghati: The Road That Devours (Final Part – The Survivors’ Escape)**
The fire had burned low, its embers barely glowing, struggling to keep the surrounding darkness at bay. The night was still, too still, and the jungle remained eerily quiet. Riya and Aryan sat close together, backs pressed against each other, their bodies trembling—not from cold, but from the suffocating fear that refused to leave them. Every passing second felt stretched, elongated by the unseen presence around them, something that lurked just beyond the reach of the fire’s dim glow. They had not spoken for a long time, each lost in their own horror-stricken thoughts, but the silence between them had become unbearable. Finally, Riya’s voice broke through, soft, fragile, yet filled with raw emotion. “What has happened to us?” she whispered, her voice quivering. “God, save us… please.” Her breath came out in short, panicked bursts as she wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers digging into her skin as though trying to hold herself together. There was no response, only the heavy silence of the jungle pressing in around them. Nisha and Sanya had been gone too long, and the waiting was like torture.
Riya turned to Aryan, her voice rising with desperation. “It’s too late. I think we should look for them.” Aryan remained still, his face shadowed, his hands clenched into fists as he struggled with something deep inside. Then, suddenly, his shoulders trembled, and a sharp inhale escaped his lips. His eyes glistened, and for the first time since the nightmare began, Aryan allowed himself to break. “They’re dead,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and strained. “I don’t know how, but I can feel it.” Riya shook her head violently, refusing to accept his words. “You don’t know that! Maybe they got lost! Maybe they need our help!” But Aryan just looked at her, his face pale, hollow. “No,” he said again, softer this time. “They’re gone.” Riya felt her chest tighten, panic clawing its way up her throat. “You don’t know that for sure—” “I do!” Aryan’s voice suddenly broke into a desperate, almost anguished shout, echoing into the empty jungle. The sound was swallowed instantly, devoured by the darkness that surrounded them. Even the trees seemed to lean closer, as if listening. The fire flickered, struggling against the overwhelming void of night. After a long silence, Aryan exhaled shakily, wiping his face with trembling hands. His voice was quieter now, but just as resolute. “If we go looking for them, we won’t make it till morning.”
Riya hated him for saying it. She hated the truth in his words. She hated that, deep down, she already knew he was right. They had to survive. They had to make it till sunrise. She exhaled shakily and gave a small nod, barely noticeable. “Then we stay here. Together. Until morning.” Aryan nodded, and neither of them spoke again. They simply sat, side by side, staring at the fire, their only beacon of hope in the endless dark.
The first hints of morning crept through the trees, painting the sky with muted shades of blue and gray. Riya and Aryan, drained and numb, stirred from their positions. Their limbs were stiff, their eyes bloodshot from a night spent wide awake, staring into nothingness. But they had survived. The night was finally over. Riya turned to Aryan, her voice raw from exhaustion. “We need to find them,” she said, though a part of her already knew what they would discover. Aryan swallowed, hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. Together, they moved cautiously, pushing past thick foliage, their breaths shallow as they scanned the surroundings. The jungle was still unnervingly quiet, as if waiting. And then, after only a few more steps, they saw it.
Floating in the pool of water ahead was Nisha’s lifeless body. Her arms spread out, her long hair floating around her head like a dark halo. Her face, once so full of life, was now frozen in an expression of sheer horror. But it was her eyes—**or the lack of them—that made Riya’s stomach lurch.** Two gaping, bloodied sockets stared back at them, hollow and empty, as though she had seen something so terrifying in her final moments that her very soul had tried to escape. Riya let out a strangled sob, stumbling backward. “No, no, no, no!” she gasped, pressing her hands against her mouth as if to hold back her grief. Her chest heaved, her vision blurred with tears. But Aryan grabbed her wrist, his grip tight. “No time to grieve. We have to go.”
And then Riya turned—and saw Sanya.
Hanging from the gnarled branches of a twisted tree, her body swayed slightly in the morning breeze, her arms limp, her head tilted at an unnatural angle. Her mouth hung open, as though frozen in an unfinished scream. The sight was too much. Riya’s knees buckled, and she screamed—a raw, heart-wrenching cry of loss and despair. Aryan yanked her away, gripping her arm so tightly it hurt. “Run!” he shouted, dragging her forward. They tore through the jungle, stumbling, nearly falling, but never stopping. The car. The road. The only way out. They had to leave before the jungle decided to **keep them too.**
The Bronco came into view, standing exactly where they had left it, like it had been waiting for them. Aryan threw open the driver’s side door. “Get in!” Riya didn’t hesitate, practically collapsing into the passenger seat. Aryan turned the key, and the engine roared to life. He **floored it,** the tires screeching as they sped away from the clearing, away from the horrors they had witnessed. The trees blurred past them, the cursed road stretching ahead. Neither of them looked back. Neither of them **dared.**
“Check the digital map!” Aryan barked, his voice still raw. Riya fumbled for the device, her hands trembling violently as she opened the screen. Her breath hitched. Then—relief flooded her face. “Yes! Yes! We’re moving forward! The loop is over!” Aryan let out a shaky laugh, a mix of hysteria and sheer exhaustion. They were finally escaping Kaalghati Road. But he didn’t slow down. Not until the jungle was behind them. Not until the cursed road was nothing more than a distant nightmare. Only then did he ease his foot off the gas. They had made it. They had survived. But the weight of what they had lost would never leave them.
Months later, the book was published—**”The Curse of Kaalghati: The Road That Devours.”** Their firsthand account of what had happened, of what had been waiting in the dark. Many dismissed it as fiction. But some believed. Some **knew.** Riya and Aryan remained together, not out of romance, but out of necessity. They had become each other’s lifeline, the only ones who truly understood what they had survived. They got married—not out of love, but out of a bond forged in terror, a promise to never be alone. Because deep down, they knew.
**The road was still there. The jungle was still waiting. And somewhere, in the cursed shadows of Kaalghati—**
**The darkness was still hungry.**
