A four-year old goes for a school picnic to the Mangpoo hills in Darjeeling. All goes well until he finds he is alone in the forest, which is known to be a haunting den. So, does he get saved?
The perfect picnic
The sun looked like a bright gold coin in the sky. For four-year-old Arun, the school trip to the Mangpoo forest in Darjeeling was the best day of his life. The air was fresh, filled with the smell of pine and earth.
He laughed and chased his friends between the tall, ancient trees, their happy shouts echoing through the green light.
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| The Mangpoo spirits will never leave you. |
The teachers spread out a feast of egg sandwiches, ripe oranges, and sweet lemonade. Arun ate until his stomach was full, his face sticky and smiling. It was a perfect, happy day.
But in the deep forests of Darjeeling, perfect days never last.
As the sun began to drop, painting the sky orange and pink, the principal blew her whistle. “Time to go, children! Line up for the bus!” With tired sighs and happy chatter, all the kids walked back to the big yellow bus.
Arun, however, felt a sudden, urgent need. “Miss! I need to go to the toilet!” he said, pointing to a small concrete building at the edge of the clearing. "Be very quick, Arun! We will wait one minute!” she replied. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him.
Four-year-old left behind
He was inside for just a moment. But when he pushed the door open and stepped back out, his smile vanished. His heart gave a painful jolt. The parking lot was empty. The bus was gone.
The silence was the first thing he noticed. The laughing and shouting were replaced by a heavy, breathing quiet. The friendly rustle of leaves now sounded like low, angry whispers. The air grew cold, making the hairs on his arms stand up.
“Hello?!” he called out, his voice small and weak. “Wait for me!” Only the wind answered, a low moan that shook the leaves above him. He was completely, terribly alone.
Panic a cold feeling shot through his body. He started to run, not knowing where to go, just wanting to find a road, a person, anything.
Twigs snapped like little bones under his shoes. Thorny branches reached out and scratched his arms, drawing tiny dots of blood.
The forest was no longer his playground. It was a maze of darkness, and he was lost inside it. That’s when he heard it. A soft sound.
A shuffling footstep that was not his own. He stopped dead, his blood turning to ice in his veins. He was not alone.
The headless boy
Between the thick trunks of two old trees, a pale shape moved. It was small, like a child. A wild hope exploded in Arun’s chest. It was another boy! They had come back for him! The figure stepped out from the shadows.
The hope died, replaced by a terror so complete he couldn’t even breathe. The boy was wearing a school uniform, just like his. But above the collar, there was nothing. No head. Just a smooth, horrible emptiness.
The headless boy lifted a pale hand and pointed straight at Arun. A sound filled the air — a wet, gurgling whisper that seemed to come from inside Arun’s own head.
“Don’t go. Stay and play with me.” It floated forward, its feet not touching the muddy ground. A coldness came from it, a deep chill that made Arun’s teeth chatter.
A cold finger, soft yet hard as stone, reached out and touched Arun’s cheek. A vision exploded behind his eyes: a feeling of being lost, a sharp, final pain, and then a black, empty silence forever. Arun’s scream was trapped in his throat. The world spun and went black.
The thing in the woods
He didn’t know how long he was unconscious. He woke up on the cold, damp ground. The headless boy was gone. For one second, he thought it was a nightmare.
Then, a new sound began. THUD. CRUNCH. THUD. It was much louder. Much heavier. The ground shook with each step. This was not a sad ghost. This was a hunter. And it was coming for him.
Pure fear took over. He jumped up and ran, his lungs burning. He could feel it behind him, a hot, stinking breath on his neck that smelled of rotten meat and old blood.
The forest itself was helping it. Branches slapped his face. Roots seemed to rise up to trip him.
He burst into a small clearing and fell, scraping his knees. He was trapped. The trees had woven into a tight circle around him. THUD. CRUNCH. THUD. It entered the clearing. Arun turned slowly, his whole body shaking.
It was a giant monster of shadows and nightmares. It was a shifting, moving mountain of darkness, with pieces of broken branches and bone stuck in it. It had too many arms, all ending in sharp, white hooks.
It had no face, only a deep, black hole that seemed to suck all the light and sound from the world. It leaned over him. This seemed to be the end.
A flicker of hope
Just then, a miracle. “ARUN! ARUN, WHERE ARE YOU? ” Voices! Lights! Flashlight beams cut through the darkness like swords. His parents! A search party! The giant monster hated the light. It let out a silent snarl of rage and melted back into the shadows of the trees.
His mother sprinted forward, falling to her knees and grabbing him, squeezing him tighter than ever before. “My baby! We found you!
“We were so worried!” He clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder. They had found him. He was safe. They turned to walk him out of that terrible place.
They are still watching
As they reached the very edge of the forest, Arun, without knowing why, glanced back over his shoulder one last time. They were there. Both of them.
The headless boy stood perfectly still. And next to him, the giant shadow-beast loomed. Their glowing eyes were fixed on him. It was not a goodbye. It was a promise.
A silent message was sent directly into his heart: This is not over. We are not done. We will wait for you. The horror of Mangpoo was forever a part of him now.
NOTE: Mangpoo is a beautiful region known for its natural beauty. This horror story is a work of fiction. We encourage everyone to explore the wonders of nature, but always with caution and never alone.
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