17/11/2025
đ˝ "The Whispering Steps of Kuldhara
Long after sunset, when the desert wind began to hiss across the dunes, the abandoned village of Kuldhara woke up in its own way.
Ravi had heard the stories:
Donât step inside Kuldhara after dark. Donât answer if someone whispers your name. Donât look behind you if you hear footsteps.
But Ravi was a photographer, and where others saw fear, he saw a perfect backdrop for his documentary.
He reached the crumbling archway of the village just as the sky turned a deep bruise-purple. His torch flickered the moment he crossed inside.
The houses stood roofless, silent, like open mouths frozen mid-scream.
Ravi took out his camera.
Click.
The flash lit up the stone walls, and for the faintest moment, he thought he saw a shadow slip into a doorway.
He turned. Nothing.
He walked deeper into the village. Broken homes stared at him from both sides, dust swirling around his shoes. That was when he heard itâ
Tap⌠tap⌠tapâŚ
Footsteps. Soft, slow, deliberate.
âWhoâs there?â he called out.
The footsteps stopped.
A cold wind swept over him, bringing with it a whisper so faint he almost missed it:
âRaviâŚâ
He froze.
No one knew he was here. He hadnât told a soul.
The voice came again, a little closer.
âRavi⌠why did you come?â
His throat tightened. âWho are you?â he whispered.
This time, he heard breathing right behind his neck.
âYou came to take our picture.â
He spun aroundâ
No one.
But the camera hanging around his neck beeped.
New photo detected.
His hands trembled as he checked the screen.
His blood turned to ice.
The photograph showed a row of villagers⌠standing behind him.
But they had hollow eyesâblack pits that leaked sand.
And every single one of them was smiling.
Ravi backed away, his legs threatening to give out.
The voice hissed again, this time from all around him:
âYou entered after dark.
Now you will stay⌠forever.â
The ground beneath him shifted.
Handsâcold, sandy handsâshot out from the earth and grabbed his ankles.
He screamed as they pulled him down.
The desert swallowed him up inch by inch.
The last thing he saw before he disappeared beneath the sand was a young girlâs face leaning close to his.
Her hollow eyes blinked once.
âSmile.â
The screen of his camera flashed brightly, taking one final picture.
Epilogue
The next morning, tourists found his camera lying at the village gate.
There were only two photos in it.
The first was of the hollow-eyed villagers.
The second was of Ravi himselfâ
half-buried in sand, his eyes black and empty, smiling the same impossible smile.
And if you zoomed into the corner of the picture, you could seeâŚ
someone elseâs hand
on his shoulder.
A hand that wasnât human.
