Ayka Stories

“The six decide to keep Fabio away from this misery, but will it be so simple? Is their fate in their favour or, will everything fall apart?” FABIO : Goodbye… SEBASTIAN : WHAT HAPPENED FABIO? What is wrong? There is no reply from Fabio’s end. CHARLES : FABIO!!! Say something dude. EMMA : (Nervously) I-I think it has reached Fabio. Is anybody else experiencing anything? SEBASTIAN : No CHARLES : Not us either. EMMA : (Terrified) Oh my god! (Cries) This cannot end like this. Say something Fabio, talk to us. They are right. This time it has got Fabio on its hooks. And the consequences of it are beyond their scope of imagination. Fabio stood near the Fireplace when the six heard a thunderous sound. He turns around to look at the fireplace and what he sees is immobilising. Massive thunderous clouds were crawling down the chimney and progressing towards him. It took a few seconds, a few gulps and a few steps back for him to realise that he was in grave danger. Not a single sound escapes his m...

“Sometimes, the voice itself is not sufficient to muster the courage. Sometimes, we require the very physical presence of our close ones to feel at power. Not being able to see them can make us feel deserted in the path. As soon as the six enters the villa, they become invisible to each other. Despite being able to hear each other, they are now on their own to encounter their fears. Lines of worry spread across the six faces, but if someone is exceptionally petrified then it has to be Fabio.” FABIO: I cannot do this. I cannot do this on my own! BOULT: You are not alone, Fabio. We are right here beside you. EMMA: How is this even possible? How can all of us vanish into thin air?  SEBASTIAN: We cannot freak out like this, guys. We need to come up with a plan of action. CHARLES: Did you guys notice something? The sound is all around us. In other words, we can’t tell which voice is coming from where. It is directionless and has equal intensity. Let’s check it, Seb take ten steps fo...

“Fear, it is very subjective. Something constantly aroused by the human dread of the unknown and unknowable. But why fear the unknown? Isn’t it the fear that makes it so dreadful? What if the unknown is everything you have ever feared? Would you give in or conquer it? 10 Years ago, an unfortunate incident took place in Wetwood at Mr Mikaelson’s villa. He was fifty-two when he was found dead in the master bedroom. Since then, many have purchased the villa and had to resell it within a few days. The cycle of purchasing and reselling continued for the next 3 years since Mr Mikaelson’s death. Every time the customers were asked about the mysterious incidents, they all gave unique descriptions. And each of these descriptions was farfetched from the known land of possibility. But no one with a sane mind dared to explore the unknown realm. However, sanity for children has a very different form. The known is boring to them and unknown is driving. All the theories were proved to be just the tip...

  He was standing right there at the bus stand sharp at 10 a.m., waiting for me. It was the day of my life, a day I remember so vividly every time I close my eyes. What’s so special about this day? Let’s travel back in time to relive the journey till this day. It all began two years ago, when I saw him for the first time at the very same bus stand. Spring was ending and the trees along the road were of any colour but green. The sidewalks were covered with colourful bands of shredded flowers. The subtle smell of jasmines filled the air. Jasmines were always my favourite and so were his, the boy standing just next to me. How did I know when I hadn’t even spoken to him? Because I could see the honest smile over his face as he breathed in the sweet scent of jasmines. His smile was infectious. It could bring bliss to even a stranger like me. He noticed me staring at him through the corner of his eyes. I felt my cheeks burn as I turned around on the other side in a swift move. The street...

Angel lied in an ocean of blood, as lifeless as a dried leaf. The knife was in my hand and I was the singer of this melody. Yes, I was the killer of my child, at least physically I was. Did I know it the entire time? No, I did not until I saw my hands drenched in Angel’s blood. The entire time there was this other side within me which wanted to free itself. It was like two sides of a coin unaware of each other. I never knew that work would become my life support, so much so that when this part of my life had to be sacrificed, subconsciously my mind had to build a defence in the form of a second personality. The sole motto of this personality was to regain the old life, a life without weaknesses, love and sacrifices. On the night Angel died, police took me into custody and interrogated me for several hours. But I was drowning in my hollowness, having lost the very purpose to live. I did not want to justify my actions in any way, so I kept quiet. Emptiness, regret, confusion, anger, grie...

Angel slept peacefully between us for the rest of the night, but little did we know that this peace was just the beginning of a storm. The next few days witnessed nothing unusual and hence I believed that it was the stress getting into my head making me have such unrealistic imaginations. Anshul had a business trip coming up soon and had to leave within a week. Since things were back to normal and no similar incidents took place, Anshul decided not to skip it and boarded the first flight to Toronto the next morning. The next morning, with Anshul not being there, I didn't have much work to do, so I thought of cleaning the house. After a few hours, around 6 p.m., I had almost covered all the rooms and was only left with the playroom. I was cleaning the shelves when I heard whispers in my ears. The words were not distinct enough to understand, it was more like a constant humming. I became alert and my movements slowed down. I paused and looked around, but nothing suspicious at all...