Damini: Unraveling Fates Across Centuries

4. Voices from the deep

"Today, I'm going to talk about fire safety," I announced proudly, stepping into the kitchen and scanning the rows of simmering pots, flickering candles, and oil lamps lining the shelves.

"We already know all that," chorused the maids, barely looking up from their tasks. The clinking of metal spoons and chopping sounds continued undisturbed.

"Let us cook, Minitai. Move aside." Shaku, the fifty-year-old head cook, gently nudged me out of her path, her hands coated with flour. "Don't be a hindrance, child."

"But this house is a fire hazard! I'm going to buy fire extinguishers and install them in each room," I insisted, crossing my arms.

Shaku shot me an exasperated look, but Ramya, the youngest kitchen maid, raised her eyebrows in curiosity. "Fire extinguishers?" she echoed, as if testing out the foreign words. "What on earth are those?"

"They're metal cylinders filled with carbon dioxide," I explained, "which smothers flames by starving them of oxygen."

"Car... bon...?" Ramya's eyes widened as she whispered the unfamiliar term, as though it were a magic incantation. "What language is that?"

I sighed, feeling the clash between my modern knowledge and the household's old-world habits. "It's science. And it saves lives. Never leave candles and lamps unattended," I added, gesturing to the many open flames around the room.

A snicker escaped Shaku. "Isn't it you who forgot to put out a lamp last year? Nearly set fire to the curtains, didn't you?" She smirked, shaking her head. "Listen to your own advice before lecturing us, Minitai."

I stammered, caught off guard by her memory. "Of course... I mean, because of my experience-"

"Ramya, the dough for chapatis won't knead itself," Shaku cut me off briskly. "If we don't have lunch on the table soon, your aunt will have our heads." The maids all resumed their work, ignoring me completely.

Resigned, I slipped out of the kitchen, my fire-safety ambitions officially squashed. As I walked through the quiet corridor, the scent of something old and damp hung in the air, a faint reminder of the house's age. This was a place built with tradition-fire safety drills and extinguishers felt like blasphemy here, almost as though they'd anger the spirits the walls themselves seemed to contain.

Passing the old well, I paused. This had been the kitchen once, before my father's renovations moved it to the next courtyard. The well was open and unused, with shadows clinging to the damp stones as though secrets lay hidden in its depths. Stepping closer, I peered down into the darkness. An earthy, rusty odor drifted up from the depths, turning my stomach.

"Eww," I muttered, taking a step back.

Just as I moved away, a faint, echoing whisper drifted up from the well. "Help me."

My heart stopped. I froze, every nerve on edge, as the words lingered in the air. They sounded so close, so real. I glanced around, but no one else was there.

I took another step back, the cold touch of dread creeping over my skin. Without a second thought, I turned and bolted, sprinting down the corridor, my footsteps echoing against the stone. "What was that? Is this old mansion haunted?" My thoughts raced with questions and fears.

WTF, this place is haunted. I want to go home, now.

Without realizing it, I found myself by the dark, foreboding lake near the back of the property. The water lay still and silent, but there was something sinister in its stillness. An old family legend stirred in my mind-a story my aunt had once told me in hushed tones about the lake's original owner, who had met a tragic end here.