Many years ago, in a quaint village far from the bustling streets of Kerala, my family found themselves entangled in a perplexing and eerie tale. I was merely a toddler at the time, just one or two years old, and I am now fifteen, recounting a story etched into our family’s history.
We resided in an aging house, nestled amidst a tranquil neighborhood, that harbored a dark and troubling history. It was a residence fraught with memories of a gruesome incident that had unfolded in the late 1950s. A man, gripped by madness, had committed a heinous act, snuffing out the lives of his entire family. His wife, two sons, and a young daughter had all fallen victim to his insanity. Their lifeless bodies were discovered in a small, concealed cellar tucked away within the depths of my grandmother’s basement.
On a seemingly ordinary day, an incident occurred that would forever haunt our family’s memories. My mother and I were residing with my grandmother in this aged house, and the day began like any other. We departed for a routine doctor’s visit, though my mother neglected to inform my grandmother of our departure.
Unbeknownst to us, my grandmother was in the basement, tending to her laundry. As she ascended the stairs, she happened upon a sight that sent shivers down her spine. A young girl, approximately my age at the time, sat perched upon the top stair. In her benevolence, my grandmother assumed that it was me and inquired if the child desired a glass of water. The girl, ‘I’ as she believed, nodded in agreement.
My grandmother fetched a glass of water and carried it toward the basement door to deliver it to ‘me.’ However, just as she approached the door, the doorbell rang, causing her to pause and answer the visitor’s call. It was my mother and me at the doorstep, as my mother had forgotten something and we had returned home briefly. My grandmother, now bewildered, inquired how my mother had me in her presence the entire time when she had just seen me in the basement.
My mother, however, clarified that I had been with her all along, and I had not been at home. This revelation left my grandmother in a state of disquiet. She recounted the peculiar encounter to my mother and proceeded to show her where the girl had been sitting. To their astonishment, the glass of water my grandmother had placed on the dining room table was situated precisely where the child had been seated. Even more uncanny was the fact that the water within the cup had vanished, leaving behind a chilling mystery that would forever linger in the corridors of our family history.