The Haunting of the Old Cottage: A Tale of Fear and the Unknown

Pragg, a young and adventurous lad, had recently moved to the outskirts of Delhi. Enticed by a seemingly great deal, he rented an old cottage at a surprisingly low price. Excited by his good fortune, he settled in with high hopes. However, it didn’t take long for him to sense that something was amiss. The cottage, charming at first glance, carried an eerie vibe that began to creep into his every waking moment.

Each morning, Pragg awoke feeling more drained and lethargic than the night before, a fatigue that no amount of sleep could cure. As the days passed, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the cottage held a sinister secret. Strange things began happening when he wasn’t around. He’d return from his part-time job to find a cabinet half-open, glasses inexplicably moved from their place, and other small disturbances that could only be explained by the presence of another entity.

One night, driven by a mix of fear and curiosity, Pragg decided to confront whatever was haunting his new home. Determined to make contact, he ventured into a nearby slum and obtained a mysterious book, rumored to contain rituals for summoning supernatural forces. With trembling hands, he prepared for the ritual. He sprinkled rock salt throughout the house, placed four lit candles in the corners of his room, and carefully painted a demon figure on the floor, all in the hopes of drawing out the entity.

As he began chanting verses in an ancient, unfamiliar language, the air in the cottage thickened with a strange, palpable energy. The atmosphere became charged, humming with an unsettling aura. But despite his efforts, there was no response—just an ominous silence that pressed down on him. Then, suddenly, a loud thud echoed from the living room, breaking the stillness.

Shivering with fear, Pragg summoned the courage to investigate the noise. He cautiously made his way to the living room, only to find everything seemingly in its place. Confused, he moved towards one of the cabinets that had been bothering him the most. As he approached, an inexplicable pressure began to weigh on his chest, as if an invisible force was trying to hold him back. With great effort, he reached out to open the cabinet.

As the door creaked open, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. Before Pragg could react, he felt an icy hand grip his shoulder, freezing him in place.

The room plunged into darkness, the candles snuffed out by an unseen force. In that pitch-black silence, Pragg’s breath quickened as the grip on his shoulder tightened, pulling him backward. He stumbled, falling to the floor, and felt a cold breath against his ear, whispering in the same ancient tongue he had chanted earlier.

Terror seized him as the realization hit—he had awakened something far more malevolent than he had anticipated. The entity had been dormant, waiting for the right moment, and now it had found its prey.

Pragg’s vision blurred as the world around him spun, and the last thing he heard before blacking out was the sound of his own scream mingling with the unearthly growl of the entity.

The next morning, the cottage stood as it always had, bathed in the soft light of dawn. But Pragg was nowhere to be found. The cottage was empty, save for a faint, lingering chill in the air and the unsettling feeling that the entity had claimed its newest victim.

And the cottage, once again, awaited its next unsuspecting tenant.