Night Walk
— Expanded Creepy Short Story
Based on 55 Fiction by Vasu Gangapalli


The night was cold, the air thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth. Mist slithered between the trees like pale ghosts, and the moon hid behind a shroud of clouds.

Ravi pulled his jacket tighter. The forest trail was eerily silent, except for the rhythmic crunch of his boots on the wet leaves. He shouldn’t have taken the shortcut through the woods, but his bike had broken down miles back, and the only way home was this old, forgotten path.

As he walked deeper, a distant howl split the silence.

He froze.

“Just wolves,” he muttered to himself, trying to steady his breath. But his heart disagreed—it pounded hard, echoing in his ears.

He quickened his pace.

Then came another sound—soft, deliberate footsteps behind him.

He stopped.

The footsteps stopped too.

Ravi turned around sharply. The path stretched empty, only the mist shifting like smoke.

“Who’s there?” he called out, his voice trembling.

No reply. Just the rustle of wet leaves.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Imagination. Stop scaring yourself.”

But as he took another step, he felt it—a cold, bony hand gripping his shoulder.

Ravi spun around in terror.

No one.

He stumbled back, his flashlight flickering. The trees loomed like tall, dark figures, and the shadows seemed to move on their own. He pointed the beam at the puddle by his feet, needing to see something—anything—real.

The reflection stared back… but it wasn’t his.

In the puddle, two figures stood behind him—pale, featureless faces, hollow eyes, long hair dripping as if from endless rain.

He turned again—nothing.

A whisper brushed his ear.
“Why did you come back, Ravi?”

His blood ran cold.

“I… I don’t know you,” he stammered, backing away.

Another whisper, this time from his left, then his right—different voices, overlapping, desperate.
“You promised to find us.”
“You left us to drown.”
“You shouldn’t have come alone…”

His knees buckled. “No! That accident wasn’t my fault!”

The puddle rippled violently, distorting the trees, and he saw it now—three shadows reaching out from beneath the water’s surface, pulling at his reflection.

Ravi dropped the flashlight—it shattered, plunging everything into darkness.

He screamed.

And then, silence.

When dawn broke, villagers found his jacket hanging from a branch near the puddle. No sign of Ravi. Only his footprints leading to the water—none coming back.

They say if you walk that path on a rainy night, you’ll hear footsteps behind you.
And if you look into the puddle, you’ll see your reflection… with an extra pair of eyes staring back.