That winter afternoon felt charged with an odd sense of urgency. The warmth of our reunion at Amit’s house still lingered, yet behind his welcoming expression, something heavier seemed to stir—like a burden he had been waiting to reveal at the right moment.
We gathered in the old drawing room of his ancestral home. The ceiling’s wooden beams, darkened by years of monsoon seasons, loomed above us, while the fragrance of freshly brewed cardamom tea filled the air. Outside, the fading sun cast a golden glow that turned the neem trees into stark silhouettes. Shadows stretched along the walls, creeping longer and thinner, as though the room itself leaned closer to hear what was about to be said.
Amit finally spoke, clearing his throat. “I didn’t call you here just for a reunion,” he began, his eyes moving from one familiar face to another. “I need your help. The villages along the Indus… something is very wrong there.”
Diljeet straightened immediately, his instincts—honed through years in the police—kicking in. “What kind of problem?” he asked, his tone steady but alert.
Amit’s expression darkened. “For generations, the Hindus living there have followed their rituals—cremating the dead and releasing the ashes into the river. But recently… things have changed. Over the past few months, people have started seeing… figures. They look human, but they have no heads.”
Peter blinked, frowning. “No heads? That’s your starting point?”
Amit nodded, his voice low. “At sunset, no one steps outside anymore. Farmers returning late are attacked—stones thrown from the darkness. The attackers remain unseen, no matter how hard they search. And sometimes… there are screams.”
A chill passed through the room, cutting through the warmth of the tea. Even Rosy, resting quietly nearby, lifted her head and let out a low, uneasy growl.
Abdul spoke next, his tone calm but edged with concern. “Do these things attack without reason?”
Amit gave a slight nod. “They move like shadows, deliberate and silent. Survivors claim they emerge from the river at dusk—soaked, swaying, but headless. If they make any sound at all, it’s a wet, choking moan. The villagers are living in fear.”
Diljeet leaned forward, jaw tight. “And the police? No action?”
Amit let out a bitter breath. “They tried. But how do you fight something that doesn’t fit into reality? They dismiss it as superstition and walk away.”
Peter shook his head, though his unease was obvious. “So what—you want us to go hunting for headless beings by the river?”
Amit’s gaze hardened. “Not hunting. Protecting. Standing guard. Stopping whatever this is before more lives are lost. You’ve done it before—you know what’s at stake. These people have no one else.”
I felt Abdul glance toward me, his silence heavy with meaning. “And you want us to step into this again?” I asked.
“Yes,” Amit replied firmly. “Just like last time. You’re the only ones I trust with something like this. The villagers don’t even know who to turn to. We can’t leave them like this.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Outside, the call to Maghrib prayer echoed faintly, blending with the rustling leaves. The sound carried a quiet gravity—a reminder that beyond our circle, real people were waiting, afraid.
I finally broke the silence, nodding slowly. “Then we go. Together.”
Abdul followed without hesitation. “We’ve handled worse. Headless or not, we’ll face it.”
Peter set his cup down, determination replacing his earlier doubt. “Alright then. But let’s be clear—are we bringing weapons, traps, or just relying on shouting at ghosts?”
Diljeet groaned softly. “Peter, this isn’t a joke. We’ll need planning, weapons… and something stronger than your voice.”
Amit leaned in, urgency sharpening his words. “You’ll also need protection. I’ve prepared blessed amulets—keep them with you at all times. We leave at dawn. Every night we delay puts more lives at risk.”
I turned to Abdul. “You still have the charms from last winter?”
He reached into his jacket, pulling out a small leather pouch. “Never got rid of them. We’ll need them again. This isn’t random—it feels controlled. Like something else is behind it.”
Peter muttered, trying to lighten the mood. “Something darker than me? That’s impressive.”
Abdul didn’t react. “This isn’t the time for jokes. Whatever this is—it’s aware. And it’s waiting.”
Amit stood and walked toward the tall windows overlooking the courtyard. The last light of day flickered faintly across the horizon. “We need to study their movements,” he said. “They appear after sunset, near the river. We intercept them before they reach the villages. I’ve marked the hotspots.”
I leaned over the map spread across the table, tracing the areas he pointed out. “And if they fight back?”
“They will,” Amit said without hesitation. “But we’ll be ready. We’ve faced things before. Faith, preparation, and experience—that’s what we rely on.”
Peter stared at the map, scratching his head. “So the plan is: hide in the dark, wait for headless figures to show up, then fight them without losing our sanity?”
Abdul exhaled quietly. “That’s one way to put it.”
I looked at Diljeet. “We’ve dealt with worse. We can handle this too.”
He nodded, resolve settling in. “We move at first light. Split into teams—riverbank and fields. Whatever these things are, they won’t harm anyone tonight.”
Amit placed a hand on my shoulder, his expression a mix of trust and concern. “I’m counting on you. The villagers will be too. You’re their only defense.”
Peter stood, pretending to raise an invisible weapon. “Very well. I shall become their fearless protector… or at least their slightly confused one.”
Abdul shook his head. “Focus. This isn’t a game.”
A quiet determination filled the room. Outside, darkness thickened, and the wind carried a faint, unsettling whisper—as if the river itself was alive with warning. But inside, we were united once more—five friends bound by purpose, ready to confront whatever waited in the shadows.
With the last warmth of chai in our hands, we prepared—not just for a confrontation with the unknown, but for a battle that could decide the fate of countless innocent lives. Headless or not, we would stand between them and whatever darkness lurked beyond the riverbanks.
We knew we would face those headless entities—beings far more dangerous than anything we had imagined, creatures that seemed to twist fear itself into a weapon.
But what truly awaited us… none of us could yet understand.
Keep reading.
This work is my own concept and I have done enormous amount of hardwork on it. However the grammar is corrected with AI because it is not my native language.
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