An hour had slipped by unnoticed. The world outside was swallowed by the dense and impregnable darkness of Kasara
Ghat. The night was absolute a black velvet shroud pierced only sporadically by the distant flickers of passing trains.
Somewhere in the shadows the incessant stridulating of crickets filled the heavy and humid air. Their chirps weaving a haunting melody that seemed to echo the restlessness of this doomed night.
The injured man lay sprawled on the cold and damp ground beside the railway track, his body limp and not responsive. The intermittent glow from the passing train windows cast fleeting and ghostly lights across his face revealing the pallor of exhaustion etched deep into his contusions. But he did not stir, not yet.
Slowly and imperceptibly at first a faint twitch in his eyelids tried to betray the defeatism. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as if he were caught between the worlds of sleep and waking. The man's eyes fluttered open. It was heavy with fatigue, glazed and unfocused.
A low groan escaped his cracked lips. He pushed himself up with trembling limbs. His movements were sluggish as if his body was weighed down by invisible chains. The muddy road beneath his feet was slick with rainwater. The puddles reflecting the pale moonlight in distorted shards. He stumbled forward with uncertain steps wading through patches of swampy water that clung to his torn shoes.
As he ambled along the railway track his gaze caught sight of a figure standing in the distance. A tall and dark silhouette cloaked in a long shiny Kashmiri Pheran, it's hood concealing the face beneath. The figure stood motionless as if the figure was watching him with an unsettling stillness.
The man's droopy eyes struggled to focus but they locked onto the figure's malicious smile, a grin that twisted the shadows into something sinister. The figure beckoned him with a slow and deliberate wave of his hand. "Come," the figure seemed to say without words. "Follow me."
The man hesitated as if he was entranced and then he began to follow. The figure turned away from the railway track and ambled down a narrow serpentine lane. The path was slick and musty with the scent of decay. The man's footsteps echoed hollowly as he trotted after the shadowy guide. The man's heart was pounding in a rhythm that matched the distant thunder.
The lane twisted and turned leading them Into a dark alley within a desolate colony. The alley was choked with creeping vines and littered with forgotten debris. The oppressive silence was broken only by the man's uneven breathing.
Suddenly the alley opened onto a vast and empty highway. Not a single vehicle disturbed the stillness. No lights flickered in the distance and not a soul walked the barren road. The man's steps faltered for a moment but the dark figure's scathing grin urged him onward.
"Why am I following you?" the man whispered. His voice was hoarse and barely audible. The figure said nothing but only turned back to glance over a shoulder. His eyes were gleaming with cruel amusement. The man swallowed hard as the chill of the night was creeping into his bones.
They approached a colossal and derelict building. It's a deserted mall whose towering façade cracked and stained by years of neglect. The windows were shattered and creepers clawed their way up the walls like skeletal fingers.
The man stopped at the foot of a wide staircase leading up to the mall's entrance. His gaze drifted upward catching sight of shadowy onlookers scattered like cormorants perched on distant ledges and balconies. Their inquisitive and unblinking eyes glinted in the darkness while watching him with an eerie patience.
"Who are they?" the man asked the figure in a trembling voice. The figure only smiled wider. His eyes burning with malice.
With a deep breath the man began to ascend the stairs. His each step creaking under his weight. The air grew colder and heavier filled with scent of mould and forgotten memories. Goosebumps prickled his skin as he entered the mall's long and musty corridor. The profound silence was broken only by faint drip of water leaking from the cracked ceiling.
He walked cautiously on the floor littered with broken glass and rusted debris. The corridor opened into an astonishingly wide grassy courtyard illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through the broken roof.
Tall blades of grass swayed gently in the night breeze towering over the man like silent sentinels. Patches of marshland glistened with dew and the air was thick with the scent of decaying damp earth.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears loud and unrelenting. The eerie tranquillity was shattered by a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The cool night air twisted into the suffocating heat of a cremation ground. The man's skin was prickled with dread.
Ahead of him lay a bier low to the ground draped in an immaculate white cloth. Upon it rested a meticulously wrapped corpse . It's form was pale and still.
In the distance several funeral pyres smouldered. Their flames casting flickering shadows on the surrounding trees. Figures moved quietly among the pyres. The crematorium workers, their forms were barely visible and we're more like shadow than flesh. They stirred the unburnt timbers beneath the blazing heaps coaxing the flames to consume the bodies fully. The man's breath caught in his throat as he approached the bier. Trembling he knelt and reached out with fingers fumbling to unravel the shroud. What he saw made his blood run cold.
The corpse was the same woman he had seen earlier. She was the fierce lady police officer who had fought so bravely in the express train. Her face was cracked and rotten. Her skin pale blue and bloated like a grotesque mask of death. Suddenly the corpse's hands twitched violently breaking free from the shroud. The woman gasped with her eyes closed and lips trembling as if she was struggling to speak.
Her cracked fingers clawed at her decayed flesh as if she was desperate to break free. With a sudden flash her fiery red eye glowing with unnatural light was snapped open. She grabbed the man's shoulder forcing him to meet her gaze. But! the face has now morphed into a known face. The most beloved face. "Samaira," he whispered as tears streaming down his cheeks. The woman's rotten face began to morph. The decay peeling away like a sinister mask revealing beneath a pale a middle-aged woman's face.
The moment was serene yet haunting. For a fleeting moment the woman winked at him with a grotesque smile twisting her lips. Then without warning she emitted a savage and heart-wrenching shriek. A sound that tore through the night like a banshee's wail. The man jolted awake gasping for air and drenched in sweat.
The lucid dream had ended.