In South Extension, Delhi, a psychiatrist, an author, and a lawyer unravel a sinister curse lurking within an abandoned mansion, blurring reality and horror.
The monsoon clouds gathered ominously over South Extension, New Delhi, casting eerie shadows on the deserted mansion. Dr. Ananya Malhotra, a well-respected psychiatrist, parked her car hesitantly. She had been summoned by Aisha Kapoor, an acclaimed author suffering relentless nightmares about a house she’d never visited—until now.
Inside, the air was suffocating, heavy with a metallic tang. Aisha was already waiting, her eyes bloodshot, clutching a leather journal. “It’s the house,” she murmured. “The dreams led me here.”
Before Ananya could respond, the creak of the main door interrupted them. Raghav Sethi, a tenacious lawyer and an old acquaintance of Ananya’s, stepped in. “I didn’t expect company,” he said. “I’ve been investigating the mansion’s ownership. It’s entangled in unsolved deaths spanning decades.”
The three exchanged uneasy glances, their shared skepticism outweighing their fear. Together, they explored the mansion’s labyrinthine corridors. The walls were smeared with cryptic symbols, some resembling Sanskrit, others defying any known script. Aisha traced a trembling finger over one. “These are in my dreams,” she whispered.
In the basement, a rusted trunk beckoned ominously. Inside lay faded photographs, fragments of old contracts, and a charred diary. The entries spoke of a man driven to madness by whispers that emanated from the walls.
Suddenly, a guttural laugh echoed through the room. The door slammed shut, plunging them into darkness. Ananya’s phone flickered to life, its screen glowing with an unfamiliar text: Leave now, or lose your sanity.
Panic set in, but Raghav’s logical mind fought to remain calm. “It’s a setup,” he declared, though his voice wavered. Aisha, however, began to scream. “The whispers—they’re here!”
Ananya tried to steady her, but the oppressive atmosphere was suffocating. Faint murmurs filled the air, growing louder with every heartbeat. The walls seemed to close in, pulsing like a living entity.
Desperation took over. Ananya kicked the door repeatedly until it burst open. The trio stumbled into the rain-soaked garden, gasping for air. Behind them, the mansion groaned, as though alive.
In the following days, Aisha disappeared, leaving only her journal. Raghav abandoned the case, his hair inexplicably streaked with grey. Ananya, plagued by hallucinations, quit her practice.
The mansion still looms in South Extension, its windows dark, its secrets waiting. Those who pass claim to hear faint whispers, laced with warnings. Yet no one dares to enter.