Short Horror Stories

The Farewell House Playmates

The Farewell House, usually a sanctuary of quietude, throbbed with a chaotic energy tonight. The air hung heavy with the scent of disinfectant and a palpable sorrow that clung to the walls like a shroud. Anuya, a seasoned mortuary assistant, closed the final cold storage unit with a weary sigh. He had witnessed countless tragedies in his three years here, but nothing could have prepared him for this night.

Earlier that morning, a thick, unseasonal fog had enveloped the town, obscuring the road and leading a school bus full of young children into the murky depths of the nearby lake. The driver miraculously survived, but the fifteen children, their lives tragically cut short, were now entrusted to Anuya's care.

The mortuary resembled a scene of utter chaos. Grieving families filled the halls with their heart-wrenching sobs, their cries mingling with the urgent instructions barked by authorities. Anuya moved through the pandemonium, his heart aching for the innocent lives lost. The sight of the children, still strapped to their seats, their small bodies bearing the marks of the accident, was a haunting image he knew he would never forget.

Lost in his somber thoughts, Anuya's head snapped up at the sound of rapid movement in the dimly lit corridor. He was alone on duty tonight, the only living soul in this house of the departed. He cautiously approached the door, peering into the shadows. Nothing. Only the persistent silence that usually accompanied his solitary nights.

Shaking his head, he returned to his desk, dismissing the sound as a figment of his overworked imagination. But then, a faint giggle echoed through the stillness. A child's giggle, light and carefree.

Anuya froze, his heart pounding in his chest. It sounded as if a group of children were running and playing, their laughter bouncing off the cold, sterile walls.

He turned slowly, his breath catching in his throat. A cluster of young children stood at the end of the corridor, their eyes wide and curious. Some wore smiles, others appeared lost, and a few grumbled in grumpy voices, as children often do. An inexplicable sense of calm washed over Anuya.

"Were you on the bus this morning?" he asked softly.

They nodded in unison.

"Are you all alright?"

"It hurt a little when the bus hit something," a boy explained in a distant, echoing voice. 

"Then we got wet. Our chests hurt, and we fell asleep. Now we're here. We like it here. There are lots of rooms to play!"

Tears welled up in Anuya's eyes. A complex wave of emotions crashed over him - sorrow, disbelief, and a strange sense of peace.

"Okay," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Go and play. If you need anything, just let me know."

The children cheered and scattered down the corridor, their laughter fading into the distance.

Anuya returned to his desk, his fingers tracing the names on the paperwork. He recognized each child, their faces now imprinted in his memory. 

The Farewell House, a place of endings, had become a playground for these lost souls. And Anuya, their unexpected caretaker, found solace in their presence, a bittersweet reminder of the innocence that had been so cruelly stolen.