Sanjivan Sengupta, a famous horror story writer, sat at his writing desk late into the night. The deadline for his upcoming story for the renowned magazine 'Unnatural' was approaching, and he was struggling to come up with a terrifying ghost tale.
Finally, after countless hours of brainstorming and writing, he completed his story containing his haunted experience in his own house. As the story came to an end, Sanjivan closed his laptop. Feeling exhausted, he decided to take a break and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
On the way to the kitchen, Sanjivan glanced at the wall clock and noticed that it read 1:27 am. The silence of the night enveloped him, and he could hear nothing but the faint ticking of the clock. Suddenly, a chilling sound echoed through the house – footsteps on the outside stairs. Sanjivan's heart skipped a beat as he froze in place, listening intently.
The footsteps continued, growing louder and closer, until they finally stopped right outside the main door with a chilling silence fell over the house.. With a mix of anxiety and curiosity, Sanjivan approached the door, his hand trembling as he reached for the doorknob. He hesitated for a moment, his mind filled with thoughts of the supernatural. Taking a deep breath, he mustered the courage to open the door.
To his surprise, there was no one there. Confused, Sanjivan looked around, searching for any signs of a prank or a visitor. Just as he was about to close the door, his eyes fell upon a package lying on the floor in front of him. It was wrapped in brown paper, tied with a black ribbon. The package seemed out of place, and a sense of foreboding washed over him.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Sanjivan picked up the package and returned to his writing desk. His hands trembled as he carefully untied the ribbon and unwrapped the paper, his heart pounding, slowly unfolding the paper. What he found inside sent shivers down his spine – to his horror, there was a human arm, drenched in blood, lay before him.
The room felt colder, and a sense of dread hung in the air. As he stood there, paralyzed with fear, a whisper filled the room, sending chills down his spine.
"Your story, Sanjivan," the voice whispered, "it's not just fiction anymore."
And with that, the room was consumed by darkness, leaving Sanjivan trapped in his own horrifying tale. Deep down, he understood that the line between reality and fiction had become dangerously thin, and he couldn't escape the feeling that his own creations were haunting him.
Shocked and horrified, he let out a loud scream that echoed through the empty house.
Suddenly, Sanjivan woke up, gasping for breath. It had all been a nightmare. He looked around, relieved to find himself in the safety of his bedroom.
With a sense of unease, Sanjivan glanced at the wall clock, his heart skipped a beat - the clock was stuck at 1:27 pm.
On that very moment he listened intently, half-expecting to hear footsteps outside his door.
