Agastya lay in bed, his small body resting beneath the thin cotton sheet, the fabric barely rising with his slow, measured breaths. The room was dim, bathed in a pale wash of moonlight that slipped through the half-drawn curtains and stretched across the walls in long, uneven shapes.
It should have felt calm.
Familiar.
Safe.
But tonight—
Something was off.
His mother sat beside him, her presence warm, steady, human in a way the rest of the room no longer felt. Her fingers moved gently through his hair, slow and repetitive, each stroke careful—almost deliberate—like she was trying to anchor him, to keep him tethered to something real.
"You're safe," she whispered softly. "I'm right here."
Her voice carried the softness of comfort, but beneath it, hidden in the spaces between her words, there was tension. A quiet strain she was trying hard to conceal.
Agastya heard her.
But not completely.
Her voice felt distant.
As if it had to travel through something thick, something unseen, before reaching him.
His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
On the shadows.
They stretched across the surface like dark veins, twisting gently with the slow rotation of the ceiling fan.
Whirr…
Whirr…
Whirr…
At first glance, they seemed normal.
But Agastya kept watching.
And the longer he looked—
The less normal they felt.
They didn't just follow the movement of light.
They hesitated.
They lingered.
One shadow stretched slightly further than it should have—just for a second—before pulling back, like something testing its reach.
Agastya's breathing remained steady.
Too steady.
"Maa…" he whispered.
His voice was soft, almost distant.
"Yes?" she replied instantly, her hand pausing for the briefest moment before continuing its gentle motion.
Agastya didn't look at her right away.
His eyes stayed on the ceiling.
"…why did the tiger stop?"
The question settled into the room.
Simple.
But heavy.
His mother's hand slowed.
Just slightly.
"It must have been scared," she said after a moment, forcing calm into her tone. "Animals get confused sometimes."
Agastya turned his head slowly toward her.
The movement was unhurried.
His eyes searched her face—not with fear, not with confusion—but with quiet attention.
"But it wasn't scared before," he said.
His voice was calm.
Flat.
"It was eating."
For a moment—
She had no answer.
The room seemed to tighten around them.
The fan continued its slow rotation, but the sound felt distant now, like it belonged to another place.
His mother forced a smile.
"You're overthinking, beta."
The words came gently.
But they didn't carry weight.
Agastya watched her for a second longer.
Then turned back to the ceiling.
Back to the shadows.
Because deep inside—
He knew he wasn't.
Time moved.
Slowly.
Stretching itself thin.
His mother leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead. Her lips lingered there just a moment longer than usual, as if she didn't want to pull away.
"Sleep," she whispered.
Agastya's eyes closed.
Or at least—
They appeared to.
She stayed there for a few seconds more, watching him, waiting for his breathing to settle.
Then, quietly, she stood.
Her footsteps were soft as she moved toward the door.
She paused before leaving.
Something about the room felt… wrong.
Not visibly.
Not clearly.
But undeniably.
She looked back one last time.
Agastya lay still.
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Her fingers tightened slightly at her side.
Then she stepped out.
The door closed with a soft click.
Silence.
Deep.
Heavy.
The kind that fills every corner until even the smallest sound feels intrusive.
Somewhere far away—
A clock ticked.
Tick…
Tick…
Tick…
Time passed.
Or perhaps—
It only pretended to.
Agastya's eyes opened.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The room had changed.
The moon had shifted, pulling its light away from the bed. The corners of the room had deepened into darkness, swallowing details, softening edges.
The shadows on the ceiling no longer stretched thin.
They gathered.
Thicker.
Denser.
Almost… watching.
Agastya pushed himself up slightly.
The bedsheet rustled beneath him.
The sound seemed louder than it should have been.
He sat there for a moment.
Still.
Listening.
Not for a sound.
But for something else.
Something beneath the silence.
The air felt different.
Heavy.
As if something unseen had settled into the room.
Not moving.
Not visible.
But present.
Agastya's gaze drifted toward the corner.
The darkest part of the room.
The shadows there didn't shift like the others.
They held.
Unmoving.
Like they were waiting.
"Maa…" he whispered again.
No answer.
The house remained silent.
Empty.
Or at least—
It felt that way.
Then—
A sudden, sharp pain struck.
"Ahh—!"
His body jerked forward instantly as his hands flew to his face, fingers pressing tightly against his temples.
The pain wasn't gradual.
It didn't build.
It arrived.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Burning.
His right eye—
The red one—
Felt like it was on fire.
Not surface heat.
Not something external.
Something deeper.
Something inside.
Something—
Waking.
Agastya's breathing became uneven.
His fingers tightened as if trying to hold the pain in place.
"Make it stop…" he whispered.
The words came out strained.
Fragile.
The pain surged.
Stronger.
Spreading from his eye through his head, down his neck, into his spine.
The room around him began to shift.
Subtly at first.
The edges of objects softened.
The walls seemed slightly further away.
The shadows stretched longer than they should.
The ceiling felt distant.
Unreachable.
Agastya squeezed his eyes shut.
But it didn't help.
The darkness behind his eyelids wasn't empty.
It moved.
Swirling.
Alive.
He gasped softly as the heat intensified, pulsing in rhythm with something he couldn't understand.
The air grew thicker.
Harder to breathe.
Each inhale felt heavy.
Weighted.
The silence changed.
It wasn't quiet anymore.
It hummed.
Low.
Constant.
Like something beneath everything.
Agastya's grip tightened.
"Please…" he whispered.
The pain reached its peak.
A sharp, blinding surge—
And then—
Everything shifted.
The room didn't fade.
It didn't disappear slowly.
It fractured.
Like glass breaking silently.
Edges bending.
Light twisting.
Shadows tearing apart.
Agastya's body stilled.
His breath caught.
And in that suspended moment—
Between pain and silence—
Between what was real and what was not—
He was no longer in his room.
But wherever he was—
Something is going to reveal.
Can it be dangerous??
TO BE CONTINUED....