Mahir Ahmed had come home form college on a rare weekend break and was already looking forward to going back. Coming home was something he'd always dreaded, for there was nothing left there for him other than bad memories.
Too restless to stay inside he ventures out for a walk. It's dark outside and the narrow streets are illuminated dully by flickering lamp posts. His mind is occupied with thoughts of his family's dire financial situation. His father had lost his job of 15 years due to cutbacks and his mother's salary as a desk clerk was hardly enough to feed a family of five. Mahir had a job waiting tables but it was only part time and if things were to go on the way they were, he'd have to quit college to get a full time job and that was something he didn't want to do at any cost.
Lost in his worries Mahir doesn't realize that he's walking down the street right towards the Dead House- it was the house on the dead end of the street and was famously rumoured to be haunted. Hence the name; Dead house.
The house was a run down sorry excuse for a building and it had remained so for as long anyone could remember. Abandoned, It had gone to a state of utter disrepair and yet no thrill seeking youngsters showed up there to investigate it's mysteries. It's story was far too gruesome and scary for anyone to take that sort of risk. Nobody ventured into that forbidden and foreboding piece of land even though stories of the antiques and blood money left hidden in vaults inside the house by its mafia owners were very well known.
Just as It was known that anybody who had attempted to break into that place had met with bad luck, inexplicable accidents and even death.
Mahir walks towards it. That night his steps are fueled by curiosity, desperation and something else. He goes further in than anybody had in a long long time, five years to be exact- five years ago the Munshi's kid had been found dead inside the house, his body mutilated beyond recognition, his missing head never to be found.
Little fingers of fear tingle at the base of his neck. The air around him is still, as though holding it's breath. There are no sounds other than that of his own footsteps on the stone walkway and the occasional flurry of bats out for hunt.
He reaches the wide front porch of the grand old house and stands hesitantly for a few seconds before he walking towards the door. To his utter surprise he finds it unlocked.
The door creaks as he pushes his way in and a cold musty smell fills his nostrils. The floorboards protest against his weight as he makes his way inside.
With cobwebs and dust everywhere, the whole place looks like it could fall apart at any moment, broken debris litter the floor that looks too dangerous to be walking on.
He stops in his tracks as a spot of moonlight falls on a strange object. On a high backed chair, an antique puppet sits in a halo of eerie light. It's pale porcelain shell a perfect setting for glassy black eyes, it's lips lifted in a manic grin painted a gruesome blood red. It's an antique dummy used for ventriloquism and it looks to be in mint condition. He walks towards it for a closer look. The dummy's red hair look like the real deal and his Victorian style clothes look a bit worn but not too shabby. Mahir's mind immediately starts thinking of the price he could sell the puppet for, probably a few thousand rupees.
He grabs the puppet with one hand and spins around excitedly to search for other treasures he could sell.
A sudden blow knocks him down.
The blow comes out of nowhere and takes Mahir completely by surprise. He stands quickly, hands drawn up, ready for an attack but, there is no one around him. The realization sends shivers down his spine. And as the full weight of the situation falls down on him- he runs.
He runs as though his feet couldn't move fast enough but he doesn't get far, a decaying hand breaks through the floorboards and grasps his leg. Screaming he falls down with an ugly thud. With his mouth bleeding, he turns onto his back to see a body clawing it's way out from the floor. He scuttles back from it, tears blurring his vision and his throat painfully constricted with screams he was holding back. A hand clamps on his shoulder making him freeze.
The dummy he'd held a while back stands as tall as any human and looks down on him with his ugly grin. Screaming Mahir jerks away in the opposite direction. Only to be followed by the puppet as it moves towards him with disjoint steps.
The sound of breaking floorboards stops and a gaping hole stands in its place with no signs of the corpse.
Mahir runs for the upper floor, his feet pounding on the rickety steps are unbalanced as he repeatedly looks over his shoulder for the dummy. He reaches the landing just as strong fingers grasp his hands in a vise like grip and pull him into an embrace.
It's the grinning dummy.
Mahir's screams are muffled against his dusty clothes and stifling darkness overcomes him.
A black form slithers from the puppet's mouth into Mahir's.
Mahir returns home that day a bit bruised and dazed but with a new friend; a ventriloquist's dummy with a painted red grin.
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On Monday morning news channels report the gruesome murder of the Ahmed family. The death and mutilation of five people with no apparent suspects.
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The high backed chair in the abandoned house is once again occupied by a porcelain dummy in mint condition seated in a beckoning eerie light.
