About half of the short scary stories in the world are fictitious. Primarily because they are mere creations of an artful mind. Some are just dreams that were fortunate enough to find a pen. Whilst some short scary stories were a result of prudent thinking. One such story that was produced as a scene in thin air, through a mere dream one night, intrigued me so much that I decided to mould it into a full-blown creation.
The following is a work of fiction that comes straight from my collection of short scary stories. Keep in mind this story was written when I was a kid. So excuse me for the childish theme of it. Let’s just say I was a big fan of short scary stories right from the start. Read on:
THE FICTIONAL YARN OF SHORT SCARY STORIES
When the sun would hit its yawning state, we would always be found on our usual field. Twelve something kids who were immensely obsessed with cricket. Every evening saw us at our nearby ground that was well versed with cricket stories. Bells would fly in the air to our yelps of zeal. It told our little village the story of loco excited kids who could do anything for the game.
ON THE CRICKET GROUND
It was just like any other day in our daily cricketing sojourn. Our ground saw children from all over the village. It was a huge field. Some children would be playing, if not cricket then some make-believe games of their own. We hardly bothered to barge in on their fancies. Everybody has their own fare share of fancies. As kids, nobody else cared enough to respect that.
I was fielding at one corner of the ground, and well aware about a kid playing nearby. He must have been somewhere around two. I hadn’t bothered paying much attention though. Life is full of things in the backdrop. Deeply engrossed in the game, I saw the batsman hit the ball for a six which headed straight towards the child. Eyes on the ball I ran towards it, with a feigned hope to catch it like superman.
The ball had hardly made it to the boundary when it bounced back in full speed as if someone had stopped it from hitting the child. Unfazed the little guy kept playing in the mud. Everyone was dumbstruck. I stared in disbelief at the child and soon everybody joined me.
We couldn’t believe our eyes. The child’s body seemed to be surrounded by a thick puff of mist. Something you see emanate from steam. More like a squall that changed shapes in thin air. The ball had deflected from that very squall. Unperturbed by what he was in, the kid sat busy in the mud.
THE GHOST WOMAN
The small whirlwind appeared so real that someone insinuated he might be on fire. Those clouds of doubt were cleared instantly when one of our teammates playfully threw the ball at him. To our surprise it deflected back yet again. This time the ball hit the boy who threw it with supersonic speed.
In that fleeting second, I noticed a countenance of a furious woman appear there like mist. We were taken aback when we heard a growl come from that circle.
Someone from my team shouted.
Others joined him.
Everyone ran like crazy. I was scared too. Curious nevertheless. As I headed my way back home, my mind tried to enforce an image of a ghost trying to protect her child.
When I went home, I didn’t leave any tiny detail to explain what I had seen to my parents. But nobody seemed to bother or care enough. In the world of the matured, nobody takes a child seriously.
THE NEXT DAY
On meeting my friends the next day, we decided to go looking for the lad. We asked around about him first. It was kind of a shocker, when we gathered that his mother had died few days ago. Her accidental death had left the child homeless. There was no father either. When someone pointed us to the direction of the hut of the only caretaker the child had, we ended up finding only ruination. Must have been an absconder.
One of my friends suggested handing over the kid to the orphanage to take care of him. We scavenged out the number of a nearby orphanage. All was settled, but before making a call we decided to visit the boy once again. So we headed towards our playground.
On reaching there, we found the boy fast asleep at the edge of the field. We sent someone to fetch some food and water. Not disconcerted anymore by the apparition, we encircled him to perceive him up close. I check him properly this time.
Poor boy! So scrawny he looked, he might not have had even a morsel for the past few days. His ribs were jutting out asking for food. Enfeebled by deficiency and marred by fate, the boy didn’t even know he was being smothered by his cruel life.
HANDING HIM OVER
When food and water arrived, I sprinkled the latter on the child’s face as he sprang back up. Dazed he gazed at us unflinchingly. We fed him first, then dialled the orphanage.
As we stood there with him, some of the wimps in our group tried to remind us of the ghost they had seen the day before. That it might show up anytime soon. Many left with that excuse. Some boys horsed around claiming that the woman is going to hunt us down. Few of my good brave mates stood by me determined to take care of the lad till the orphanage people arrived.
When the van from the orphanage appeared locating us, we handed the poor little chap over. Those guys took him in, after asking numerous questions of course. One other guy was sent to check the house where the boy had lived to collect more information. When they were done with all of the formalities, they manifested their gratitude to us, and sped off into the dust.
The apparition had not appeared amid all of this, and it soon occurred to us why.