Arylie || Aracunum: The beginning ||

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Sunday at 11:52 pm, on a desolate, unlit street.

The street lay abandoned, devoid of any illumination from streetlights, while the moon, which usually graces the sky, was absent tonight, concealed behind dense, suffocating clouds. The only audible sounds were the rustling of trees and their branches.

A solitary figure, a pitiful girl, walked alone along the darkened street until she reached the door of her house at its end. Opening it, she was greeted by darkness enveloping her home.

As she locked the door, her hand grazed a sharp nail, causing it to bleed. She closed her eyes, the sensation akin to a haunting melody piercing her soul, drawing her towards it.

Khoyi kahan hai tu paas toh aaa...
chu le mere yeh rooh paas toh aaa
waadiyan dhundhe tere bholi hassein
aankhon ke seeshe mein tu hai bassi..

Enthralled, she followed the music playing in her ears, leading her to the backyard of her own house—a deserted space with withered plants, instilling a chilling atmosphere.

"Imile..."

She looked around in search of the source of the whispered voice calling her name and the haunting music, but found nothing.

Imile, now frightened, stuttered, "K...kaun hai?"

Receiving no answer despite repeating her question, she swallowed in fear and took a few steps forward, only to freeze in place as she felt someone's warm breath on her shoulder, as though someone stood right behind her.

Swiftly turning around, she searched for the person who had frozen her with fear, but once again found nothing. "Kaun hai?" she demanded into the silence.

The eerie stillness persisted, and the music that had echoed in her ears abruptly ceased. She scanned her surroundings, finding only darkness. Fear gripped her, and she stumbled backward, hastening back into her house.

Imile locked the door behind her, leaning against it with shallow breaths, her heart racing. She shut her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

Suddenly, continuous knocks reverberated against the door, causing her heart to skip beats. Terrified, she dared not open the door, instead clutching the side table, sweat pouring from her brow.

Frantically searching for water to quench her dry throat, she knocked things over until finally finding a glass. Raising it to her lips, she recoiled in horror as the water appeared blood-red.

Throwing the glass to the floor, she screamed, "Kaun hai yahaannn!"

Her eyes caught sight of a dark, lurking figure behind the wall. Trembling, she approached it in hopes of finding a glimmer of light.

Shivering uncontrollably, she felt two strong, muscular arms envelop her from behind. She spun around to confront the figure, but found emptiness. "Kaun hai?" she whispered again.

Gasping for air, Imile suddenly woke from her nightmare, breathing heavily. She realized she had been dreaming—a horrifying nightmare that had plagued her for months, stealing her peace.

Imile's breaths were erratic, her body drenched in sweat as she lay awake, clutching the duvet to her chest. "Why, Sita Maiya... why do I keep having that same dream... the same backyard... the same house... and that song... whether day or night, that song echoes incessantly in my mind... and that feeling... whose is it?"

Imile Narayan, originally from the small village of Pagdandiya, lived a seemingly normal life until tragedy struck. Losing her parents in a car accident had plunged her into deep depression.

Now residing alone in a small apartment, she found solace and companionship in her best friend, Rupali Tripathi, with whom she co-owned a thriving café called "Sukoon Café."

Imile's Perspective:

Wiping sweat from her forehead, Imile muttered, "Calm down, Imaliya, it's nothing... you're just overthinking. Get ready quickly or face Rupi Didi's wrath again, which is surely more daunting than this nightmare."

Chucking at her own anxiety, she headed towards the shower with her clothes and towel. Turning on the tap, however, no water flowed. Frowning, she tried another tap, but it too was dry.

Suddenly, she heard a slow drip—"taap, taap"—causing her heart to race. Gathering her courage, she looked down to find drops of blood falling to the ground from her injured finger. She sighed with relief.

But her face paled as she remembered—it was the same spot where she had been hurt in her nightmare.

Terrified, Imile tried to reassure herself, recalling a recent spat with Rupi Didi over their favorite cold coffee. "Calm down, Imaliya... this wound... this wound will keep reminding me of that fight with Rupi Didi... but... but it happened two days ago, the wound shouldn't be this fresh... no, no, you're just thinking too much, calm down."

Turning on the tap again, she found it working, and hastily took a warm shower to calm her frayed nerves. After a light breakfast, she headed to her café.

Monday at 9:45 am, at Sukoon Café.

After briefing her staff on the day's specials, Imile returned to her office to attend to some paperwork. After a while, Rupi arrived with their favorite cold coffee, handing one to Imile.

As they sipped their coffee, Imile once again became lost in her thoughts of the nightmare.

Observing Imile's distraction, concern flashed across Rupi's eyes. "Imile, you've lost yourself in your dreams again, haven't you? What kind of madness is this, why do those same places haunt you repeatedly? Forget and move on."

Imile sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "I don't know, Rupi Didi. I feel a strange connection to that place, that feeling, and that song."

Rupi rubbed her forehead. "Then stop thinking about it. The more you dwell on that nightmare, the more it disturbs you. You're fixating on it."

Imile stood up. "I'm not chasing after that dream—it's chasing after me. Whether in the darkness of night or the brightness of the day, just thinking about it makes me tremble."

Rupi held her shoulders. "Calm down, Imile. First, stop obsessing over them every time. You only stress yourself out. Stop doing that, and everything will be fine. Now, think about something else."

Nodding, Imile closed her eyes, trying to divert her thoughts, albeit the subconscious pressure brought forth flashes of someone forcibly marrying her, of someone imposing themselves upon her. She jerked awake.

Panting heavily, Imile gasped, "No... no, Rupi Didi, I can't handle this... I'm seeing strange things."

Concern deepened in Rupi's voice. "Look, Imile, ever since r uncle and aunt's death, you've been behaving strangely. You're mentally stressed... you should consult a doctor. I think you've suffered a severe shock."

Imile's anger flared. "Rupi Didi, do you think... no, you're suggesting that I'm crazy."

Rupi held her hands reassuringly. "No, I'm just saying that we should visit a psychologist. They may have a solution for your nightmares."

Imile grumbled, "No, I don't want to go."

Rupi remained firm. "No, you're coming with me, that's final. I know a doctor—Aryan Singh Rathore. I've heard good things about him. He doesn't see many patients these days, but hopefully, he'll agree to see you."

After much protest, Imile reluctantly agreed to see the doctor.

.....

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