A new morning had begun, but one thing was certain in my mind—I would keep the nightmare to myself.
We sat together around the dining table, leftover dishes scattered between us while cold droplets slid down the sides of untouched glasses. At first, the conversation revolved around ordinary things, but gradually it drifted toward the same craving that always surfaced whenever we reunited. None of us were interested in simple vacations or smiling photographs. We were addicted to mystery. To abandoned places. To stories people were too afraid to test for themselves.
Peter looked ready to speak several times, yet stopped each time before the words left his mouth. Beside him, Diljeet tapped his fingers impatiently against his glass. Their eyes met briefly, then shifted away again.
A silent conversation.
A hidden plan.
Amit caught it immediately.
So did I.
We had known each other for years. Reading expressions had become second nature to us.
“What exactly are you two hiding?” I asked casually.
Peter shrugged too quickly. Diljeet’s face stiffened for the briefest moment.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
I leaned back in my chair, allowing the silence to settle over the table before finally speaking again.
“What if we go ghost hunting in Nawabshah?” I suggested quietly. “This area is surrounded by abandoned graveyards and cremation grounds… especially near that ruined hotel outside the city.”
Amit looked up immediately. “You mean the old place near the outskirts?”
I nodded slowly.
As the discussion deepened, all of us lowered our voices unconsciously, as though the walls around us might overhear. The room that once felt lively now carried an uneasy stillness.
“The Midnight Reaper,” Amit murmured under his breath.
The name struck me hard because it matched the figure from my dream almost perfectly.
According to local tales—stories whispered among residents, buried inside online discussions, and written in aging books—the entity appeared only after midnight. A woman dressed entirely in white, her face concealed, carrying an enormous rusted sickle in her hands. She wandered the crematorium nearby, hunting anyone foolish enough to enter her territory.
That terrifying blade had given birth to her title.
The Reaper.
A cold sensation moved through me. Fear and excitement often feel dangerously similar.
“But where are we even supposed to find paranormal equipment?” Amit asked, glancing around as if the answer might suddenly appear.
That was the moment Peter and Diljeet stopped acting innocent.
Peter slowly opened his backpack and carefully placed an EMF detector onto the table. Seconds later, he revealed an EVP recorder, its tiny red light glowing faintly.
The table fell silent.
Then Diljeet leaned back with a grin and removed a thermal vision camera from his own bag.
Amit stared in disbelief. “Where did you get all of this?”
Diljeet smirked. “I came prepared in case we found something worth investigating.”
Excitement spread through the room instantly.
At that point, there was no backing out anymore.
Peter and Amit were inexperienced when it came to paranormal investigations, but their curiosity overwhelmed any fear they should have felt.
“This isn’t some harmless adventure,” I warned quietly. “If something truly happens out there, it stops being entertainment.”
Diljeet nodded seriously. “Encounters leave consequences.”
But Peter only smiled confidently. “That’s why you two are with us.”
Too much confidence.
Dangerous confidence.
They believed absolutely nothing could go wrong.
They were mistaken.
The only remaining problem was getting permission.
The rest of the day disappeared into planning.
When night finally arrived, we approached the hotel manager first. The moment we mentioned investigating outside after midnight, suspicion appeared on his face.
That was when we showed him our identification cards.
Detective.
Police officer.
We calmly explained that we were tracking information about a robbery gang supposedly hiding near the cremation grounds.
After a long hesitation, he reluctantly agreed.
Then we went to Abdul.
He stood near the entrance looking exhausted from his shift. But the second we mentioned the Reaper, all the color drained from his face.
His eyes filled with tears almost instantly.
“Please…” he said shakily. “I have children. A family. Don’t make me go there.”
The fear in his voice was painfully genuine.
We assured him that we were armed, trained, and capable of handling danger.
Even then, he hesitated.
Finally, he nodded weakly.
“After two in the morning,” he whispered. “That’s when she appears.”
The way he spoke made the hour itself feel cursed.
According to Abdul, everything around the hotel became unnaturally silent after 2:00 a.m. Lights went out. Guests slept. Even the air felt dead.
“I’ve heard crying,” he admitted quietly. “Like a woman begging for help.”
A chill crept through my body.
“She doesn’t simply appear,” he continued nervously. “She hunts. And if she notices you… she chases you with that blade.”
He described the long rusted sickle with trembling hands.
Nobody who encountered her closely ever dared return.
So we waited.
Every passing minute felt heavier than the last.
Then finally—
2:00 a.m.
We stepped outside into the darkness.
The night felt unnaturally heavy.
No wind moved.
No insects chirped.
No distant sounds of traffic existed.
Only silence.
Then came the whispering.
Soft.
Almost impossible to hear.
Another whisper followed.
Then a distant cry echoed somewhere ahead.
Abdul’s hand shook as he switched on the flashlight. Its beam sliced weakly through the darkness.
Beside me, Diljeet and I loaded our weapons carefully.
The cries grew louder.
Closer.
Less human.
Then—
We saw her.
A pale figure slowly emerged from the shadows.
White clothing.
Distorted movements.
A veil fluttering despite the motionless air.
In her hands rested a massive rusted sickle that reflected faintly beneath the torchlight.
The way she moved felt unnatural.
Too sudden.
Too erratic.
Then she screamed.
The sound tore through the silence like something alive. It wasn’t simply loud—it felt wrong, as though it forced itself directly into our minds.
My skin crawled.
My heartbeat pounded violently in my chest.
For one impossible moment, all of us stood frozen, staring at something we could not explain.
Then instinct took control.
We ran.
Not bravely.
Not calmly.
We ran like terrified men escaping something that should never have existed.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody dared turn around.
We burst back inside the hotel, slammed the doors shut, and rushed through the corridors in panic. Trembling hands fumbled with keys until finally the locks clicked into place.
Darkness swallowed the room.
None of us slept.
We lay awake on our beds, staring into shadows that no longer felt empty.
Every tiny sound made our hearts race.
Tomorrow, we promised ourselves, we would uncover the truth.
Tomorrow, we would search for logic and answers.
But tonight—
We had seen her.
The Midnight Reaper.
And whether she was ghost, nightmare, or something far worse—
She was real.
And this was only the beginning…
Author’s Note: This chapter was edited with AI assistance for grammar, readability, and flow.
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