My aunt was a feisty woman, the diva of her town, hilarious and level-headed. When I was a young boy of six years old, she would often tell me stories before bed.
One night, bored with simple tales of kings and queens, I asked her to come up with something unique. She knew without some new story I wouldn’t go to sleep, but she warned me her it might give me nightmares.
This is the story she told:
“The incident happened years ago when I was a little girl,” my aunt said.
“One full moon night, four young boys decided to go see a late-night show called Sholay. After the show, the group decided to take a cab home, but they looked for a while to no avail. It was getting very late, and they were very tired.

A cold breeze, cold enough to run shivers down anyone’s spine, blew that night and the full moon enhanced the feeling of eeriness, but nothing could scare our motley group of men.
With no soul in sight, they continued to search optimistically for a cab to ferry their tired bodies, when they were startled by something strange. Nearby, under a solitary streetlight, they saw a person painfully sobbing. The face of that person was not visible, so the group went closer to inquire about them.

No sooner had they approached with their empathetic inquiry — “what’s the matter?” they asked — than the person had revealed their face. It had the face of a goat and the hands had hooves instead of fingers. The boys were petrified by this and made a run for their lives. They expected the abominable creature to give them a chase, but strangely enough, it did not. When they turned back to check, it was nowhere in sight.
Our group of merry men were visibly scared and desperately wanted to get home to their cozy beds and blankets when suddenly out of nowhere a cab appeared. The boys got in breathing a sigh of relief from their horror experience.
They got talking with the driver and narrated their whole ordeal. As they reached the part about the odd hands, the driver interjected “What do you mean hooves instead of fingers? Do you mean to imply something like this?” and proceeded to stop the automobile and show his hands to the group.
“You won’t believe what happens next,” my aunt said.
“Please do not play games with me and finish the story,” I pleaded. She took pity on me and continued.
I eagerly awaited the climax, but you won’t believe what happened next. She proceeds to show me her hands, and they were by no means any ordinary hands. Her hands had no fingers, but hooves. I wanted to scream to the top of my lungs but simply could not find my voice as I froze.
“Unholy devil, please do not kill me,” I thought, as she erupted in demonic laughter and screamed loudly, “I am here to take your soul!”
The next thing I remember is lying on my aunt’s lap as she caressed my face assuring me that I had just had a terrible nightmare.
I was even more petrified and tried to get free from her grasp, expecting her to turn into her devilish avatar any second. She was surprised by this strange behavior and wanted to know the reason behind it. So, I proceeded to tell her my entire nightmare. Then, she burst out laughing, not the evil one rather her regular sweet and hearty one.
“Oh, my poor baby,” she consoled me. Then, she reprimanded me for my demand for a new story.
Those were the golden days when we had long summer holidays, and I would spend it with her in my state of origin, Orissa
© mercurialbuddha
#story #horror #fiction #thriller #fear