A True Paranormal Experience: Spill the Tale.
This is a new segment I am starting, where I am going to share some of the most interesting experiences of life. These will be 100% real and no exaggeration. If you could relate to these instances, please share your stories in the comments. Please follow me and tap on the clap button, at least once if not more. So, Tale no. 1: Did You Hear That?
In our repertoire of memories, happy and sad, are just moments of pleasure and grief. We recall the happy instances in a wholesome gathering and sad ones when we are proud of ourselves as a testimony of our endurance. Amidst these, there are hundreds of weird, cryptic and incomprehensible occurrences, which keep us awake for nights, leaving an eccentric imprint on our minds. This is one such anomalous event.
The mind saw it, but the eyes could not.
I was 15 then. We were in Rajasthan, India for a school trip. After an adventurous day in the lap of nature, we were sitting at the buffet, talking about our thrilling experience of the Jungle Safari and photogenic tigers of Ranthambore National Park. Our bags were packed and we were ready to checkout from the hotel. All the students headed towards the busses except my four friends and me. Our hotel had Five-Wings, attached in a semi-circular curve, like one of the colonies of the metropolitan cities. Five of us were standing at the entrance of B-Wing, with either small handbags or nothing at all, since our luggage had already boarded the bus. We were supposed to recheck each of the rooms of the hotel to ensure that they are empty with a teacher, who had gone to take the roll call in the bus.
It was a cool October evening. All the lights were off except one LED bulb at the ceiling of the B-Wing’s entrance. We stood in silence underneath the inky sky, glancing at the pool behind us or the trees around the building. Suddenly, we heard the rumbling of chairs from one of the floors of the B-Wing. Our faces turned at each other with the same look — ‘You hear that?’- and our hands firmed in action. All of us made an excuse in our head that somebody must be shifting chairs. Even though we all knew, there were no chairs in our hotel rooms. Each room had a bed and some had an additional two-seater sofa. No chairs. After a few seconds we heard another rumble which made Sam; my friend- squeak in fright. This time the sound was louder and sharper. One of my friends was listening to music and even she removed her earpieces and looked at us in confusion.
There could be some teacher upstairs, we doubted. And to prove our theory correct, I asked, “** ma’am, are you here?” No reply. We repeated that thrice and since nobody answered, we turned our back and faced the pool. A minute later, I decided to go upstairs and have a look around the first floor. Sam vehemently objected but I had decided. I switched on the torch of my phone and headed upstairs. There were twelve stairs straight, then a U-Turn and twelve more. The reflection of the bulb abandoned me by the first five stairs, after that I was depended on my phone’s torch. As soon I finished the first twelve stairs, we heard the rumble again. Now, I was sure that the peculiar commotion was coming from the first floor. I shivered and tightened my grip. Sam begged me to come back. I ignored her and proceeded for the next bunch of stairs. I shifted my phone from left to right, but there was nothing unusual. The corridor was empty. I called my teacher’s name again; the only response was of my echoing voice. I decided to go back to my friends. I turned back, and the building jumped. It seemed so; like 20 wooden chairs hoped together. I shuddered head to toe and before taking in another breath, ran down.
My friends were sweating and trembling. Unexpectedly, our teacher was not upstairs and by the time she should have been done with ten rounds of roll call. We decided to rush towards the parking. Before we could move, another smooth sound diverted our attention. It was coming from the half-lit stairs ahead of us. This time it was not the jumping chairs or the blowing winds. Each one of us stared at the desolate steps. “clack, click-clack”, it continued. We knew, what that was. Tip-toe of high-heels. ‘click-clack’, our eyes descended to the next steps. Every ‘click-clack’, kept growing louder, our eyes followed and it turned into a crescendo of the staccato beat of a woman adorned with a pair of stilettos, walking down the stairs, lithely. When all twelve steps were completed, the clicks of the heels vanished and our eyes averted abruptly, like a disenchanted child. We looked at each other and realized we all have been staring at the base tiles of the B-Wing. We again united with the eerie silence and for once, were glad about the reunion. The next moment Sam, horror-struck, ran towards the pool. She had almost jumped into it, when a stern voice called “Sorry, for the delay.”, and reclaimed the scene. We clutched the poor girl’s arm and walked towards our teacher. First, we, all at once, glanced at her feet. She was wearing sports shoes. We sighed. She was confused and asked if everything was okay. We could not answer.
Only our five pairs of ears were the common satellite to what we had experienced that day.
If you liked reading this story, check out the Ghosts of the Silent Hills by Anita Krishan.
