The Taxi Ride
and Other
Spooky Stories
Priyanka and Bhavini
The Taxi Ride and Other Spooky Stories
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical—without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Compiled by Priyanka Sivaramakrishnan and Bhavini Pant
Cover Picture by Aanand Lakshmi Ratan
Cover by Amrutash Misra
Layout by Amrutash Misra
Editing and Proofing by Karthika Gopalakrishnan
Published by MultiStory Learning Pvt Ltd, New No. 9, 2nd Floor, 4th Street, Venkateshwara Nagar, Adyar, Chennai - 600020
PRINT EDITION ISBN – 978-81-928067-1-6
© MultiStory Learning Pvt Ltd
First Published in 2014
TO ORDER
Email: [email protected]; [email protected]; Call: +91-8122074404
About the Authors
Priyanka Sivaramakrishnan and Bhavini Pant are storytellers with the Book Lovers’ Program for Schools. In 20013-14 alone, they have told stories for more than 1000 hours. They are based out of Chennai. They love to read and write. This is their first book.
We tell scary stories to our children to make them brave and fearless adults.
This book is dedicated to
Aanand and Sharan
Contents
Nani’s Secret
You’ve Got Mail
The Wall
The Mist
The Dark Sorcerer
Silence Please
A Dangerous Sport
The Taxi Ride
The Bleeding Finger
The Ouija Board
The Last Dream
The Lucky Finger
Nani’s Secret
- Bhavini
Zainab had never met his grandmother. Nani had passed away three years before he was born. He knew her face from the pictures in his parents’ wedding album. He liked how her eyes twinkled mischievously, as if she were hiding a secret.
Zainab had spent the day flipping through old photo albums for a homework assignment. He had to describe the people in a family photograph to his class. He was going through the last album when a small black and white photograph slipped out. It was a picture of Nani. She was seated on a sofa by the window. The rain cast soft, wavy shadows on her face as it fell on the window outside. The photograph was old and a little blurred. However, the expression in her eyes was hard to miss. The twinkle was gone. She looked pale and lifeless.
A row of tiny numbers was inscribed in shaky writing on the reverse of the photograph. Zainab took a sharp breath--the date was exactly three years before he was born. This was a picture of Nani on the day that she had passed away. He was unable to find the right words to describe his grandmother. He had never seen her look so sad.
Zainab fared poorly at his assignment the next day. After he came home from school, he took the photo and sat next to his mother. She was reading the newspaper. Zainab realised with a start that she was sitting on the same sofa as Nani in the photo.
“Ma, did Nani die unhappy?”
His mother looked up from her newspaper, startled.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Zainab said slowly, “Was she very unhappy when she died?”
“Nobody likes dying, Zain, and neither did she,” answered Ma. “Why do you ask?”
He handed her the photo. She looked at it for a long time without saying anything.
“Did you find this in one of the old albums?”
Zainab nodded.
Ma folded her newspaper and put it aside. She pulled Zainab close to her, like she used to when she was about to tell him a story.
“I don’t know how to say this to you. I had might as well tell you the truth,” Ma said. “Nani passed away in 1998. A few months before her death, your grandfather confessed that he had another wife. He had married her a few months after he wedded Nani and kept it a secret for decades. After confessing, he left Nani to be with his second wife. Nani couldn’t bear the betrayal and died soon after.”
Zainab was quiet for a few minutes, absorbing the information.
“No matter what happens, Zain, remember that your Nani lived a wonderful life,” said Ma. “Did you know that you’re more like her than I am?”
Zainab turned around to face his mother. “Really? How’s that possible?”
Ma laughed. “Genes skip a generation sometimes. You have her playful nature. You like reading and telling long, imaginary tales.”
Zainab giggled. He was quite good at that.
“You have her eyes, right down to that mischievous twinkle.”
Zainab smiled, delighted.
When he went to bed that night, he switched on his bedside lamp and looked at Nani’s picture.
“I feel like I know you, Nani,” he whispered to the photograph. “I feel like I’ve met you somewhere.”
He propped the photograph with a book and pulled the blanket around him. “If you ever want to talk about granddad,” he mumbled, “don’t hesitate to. . .“ He fell asleep mid-sentence.
When Zainab woke up the next morning, he turned to look at the photograph. It was missing. He dashed out of bed and spent the morning searching for it. He turned all the drawers in his room upside down. His room was a site of chaos. After a few hours, he was exhausted. He lay down on his bed, annoyed and frustrated.
“It’s not that hard to find me,” said a soft voice behind him.
Zainab couldn’t believe his ears. He turned around slowly.
His grandmother was sitting on a chair next to the window.
“Hello, Zainu.”
Zainab stared.
“You were talking to me last night and I felt I had to meet you,” his grandmother said. “It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to anyone. I may be slightly boring. Do give me some time. I think we’ll get along nicely.”
His grandmother chatted like it was just another day. Zainab was scared. I must be asleep. This has to be a dream, he thought. He needed to wake up otherwise he would get lost inside his head. He reached for a pen and dug the nib into his palm.
“Aaaaah!” Zainab yelled in pain.
“Well, what did you expect?” asked his grandmother.
Zainab looked at her. She had a small smile on her face. With a shock, he realised how similar they looked.
“Yes, I know,” she said, nodding her head. “We do look pretty similar, don’t we? I’ve heard that the similarities don’t stop there.”
Zainab sat up. “Are you a ghost?”
“I think so,” his grandmother replied. “I don’t feel very much like a ghost, though.”
Zainab thought that she looked normal, unlike the ghosts he’d seen in films or read about in books. She looked as if she had come to life in a black and white photograph that stood out against the noisy, colourful, three-dimensional world.
Up close, Zainab could see her eyes. So this is what my eyes look like, he thought.
“What did you mean when you said that the similarities didn’t stop there?” he asked her.
Nani looked at Zainab’s face as if she was reading a map. She smiled. “I meant that we’re not just similar in the way we look. From what your mother says, it sounds like we have the same personality too,” she said.
“Yes, Ma was telli—-wait, you heard that? So you’ve been here before. . . before today?” he asked.
Nani stretched out her hand to touch his face. Zainab froze. Her touch felt like a drop of cold water. She ran her fingers lightly acro
ss his cheeks and sighed softly. Then she pulled his cheeks.
“Ow!” cried Zainab. “You’re just like all the other old people.”
She laughed loudly. It was a fearless, crackling laugh. “Come on then,” she said. “Sit next to me. There’s so much I have to tell you.”
Hours flew as Zainab listened to his grandmother. Their only interruptions were her bad jokes and his laughter.
Nani was telling him stories about his mother’s childhood. “Whenever she was in a bad mood, I drew funny faces on pieces of paper and tucked them inside her notebooks, under her pillow, or into the toothbrush holder. Sometimes I would write short, silly poems to make her laugh.”
“What poems? Tell me Nani!” Zainab asked, impatiently.
“All right, here’s one. Only your mother and I know about this.
A dog called Could met a dog called Can,
And round and round their tails they ran!”
They burst out laughing. Zainab got up from near his grandmother’s feet. He chanted the poem and did a silly tribal dance.
“A dog called Could met a dog called Can,
And round and round their tails they ran!
A dog called Could met a dog called Can,
And round and round their tails they ran!
A dog called Cou—”
Zainab stopped. His mother was standing at the door, her face white. She stared at him.
“What did you just say?” she whispered.
Zainab didn’t reply.
Ma walked in the room. Zainab realised that she couldn’t see Nani.
“Tell me what you were saying just now.”
Zainab swallowed. “Ma,” he said, carefully. “I don’t think Nani is dead.”
Ma’s face turned red. “She is dead, okay? She has been dead for the past 12 years! Nothing can bring her back. Stop singing that silly tune right this minute.”
“Okay, Ma,” Zainab answered quietly.
There were some things that adults were too old to understand. This was one of them, thought Zainab. He couldn’t tell Ma about Nani. She must have been deeply hurt when Nani passed away. If she saw her again. . .
Perhaps it was best to keep their secret.
He continued listening to Nani’s stories until his eyes grew heavy. “Nani,” he asked sleepily, “why did you come back now? Why not earlier?”
“I have some unfinished business that you reminded me of, Zainu. Once it’s over, I’ll go back to where I belong. I will be happier than before.”
He was too sleepy to ask any more questions.
The next morning, Zainab woke up alone. He got out of bed and walked around the house looking for Nani. He saw his mother at the balcony. From the way she stood, Zainab could tell that she had received bad news.
“What’s wrong, Ma?”
His mother turned around. “Zainab! You scared me out of my wits. I didn’t know you were standing there.”
Zainab hugged her. “What happened, Ma? Why are you so scared?”
“I’m not scared, Zain. I’m just a little sad. . . and shocked.”
His mother held his hand and took him inside the drawing room. She sank into her favourite sofa.
“Your grandfather, my father, passed away this morning. He died along with his second wife and their children. It was a terrible accident. Their car fell off a cliff. They died instantly.”
She stared at the floor. “It seems there was something wrong with the brakes.”
Zainab’s heart beat faster. He went back to his room and called out.
“Nani, are you here? You know we should discuss this. Nani?”
Silence.
Zainab lay down on his bed. A soft breeze wafted through the window. He felt something brush against his hand. He sat up.
It was the black and white photograph. Nani was seated on the sofa, with the rain falling on the window outside.
Zainab took a close look at her face. The photograph was old and a little blurred but it was impossible not to notice the slight smile on Nani’s face. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, as if she were hiding a secret.
You’ve Got Mail
- Priyanka
“I was sorting through my email today and found a message which said that I am now a part of a chain email,” said Robb. “If I don’t forward it to 30 other people within three days, I will be haunted by a ghost. It’s been two days since I received it,” he finished anxiously.
“Ha ha. Please don’t tell me that you believed it and forwarded the mail to your friends,” I said.
I found the notion silly. Even though The Ring was made nearly 10 years ago, ideas like this persisted. There was always someone silly enough to believe them, like Robb.
“I don’t know, da. My mother once told me this story about a particular chain letter that did the rounds. This was before the internet. No one knew who started it or how. It was very similar to this email. The letter threatened that bad things would happen if you did not send it to someone. A boy at her school received the letter. He joked about it and did nothing. Three days later, he disappeared! No explanations, no letter, nothing! He vanished!” he finished breathlessly.
Robb’s face was scrunched up. His eyebrows met in a line, as they always did when he was nervous.
“Robb, come on. Don’t tell me that you believe this. It was a coincidence. The letter was obviously hyped to sound scary. Ghosts don’t exist. Trust me.” It took a while to calm Robb down. However, he didn’t seem entirely convinced even when he was about to leave my house.
“So you’re telling me that I shouldn’t forward the email to anyone?” he asked, still unsure.
“Yes! Face your fears. There are no ghosts. Don’t let a silly email scare you,” I said, thumping my fist for dramatic effect.
“Okay. . .” he said. “I have to get going before my mother calls me again. She thinks we are doing Maths homework together.” He gave me a lopsided grin and left.
As I stood by the door watching him walk away, I got the feeling that something was amiss. I tried to shake it off but it didn’t go away. I walked into the kitchen trying to put a finger on what was bothering me, when my mother interrupted.
“You know, I’ve heard that story too,” she said.
“Which story?” I asked.
“I’ve heard the story that Robb’s mother told him. I didn’t mean to listen to your conversation but both of you were right here. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea asking him to ignore the email.”
“Ma! It’s just a silly email that was probably started by somebody who was very bored. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
I went to my room. My bed was a mess. I was not keen to clean it. I dumped the clothes from the bed on to a chair close by, fished out my book from under the bed, and got comfortable. I fell asleep midway through the book.
Tuuut! Tuut! Tuuut! My brain registered a sound. It seemed to be coming from the window. I ignored it.
Tuuuuut! Tuuuuuuuut! It was more insistent this time. I opened my eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness. Tuuuuuuuuuut! I walked to the window and looked down to find Robb standing there, looking up at me.
What is he doing here at this time of night? I lifted my forefinger to signal, “I’ll be there in a minute.” I noticed that the time was 11.50 pm. I grabbed a t-shirt and crept out the main door.
When I reached the ground floor, I found Robb pacing. He was panicky and restless. “Robb! What’s going on, da? It’s almost midnight!” I said as I approached him.
“Shhhhhh... Not here. Come with me,” he said, as he dragged me away from the security guard.
“Hey, calm down. Tell me what happened.”
“I... I don’t know. I feel like I’m being followed but when I turn back, there’s no one. I feel like something mist-like is always walking beside me. I hear words as if they’re being whispered in the wind. I think it is related to the chain email, da. I think something bad is going to happen to me. I’m scared! Tell me what to do. I’m. . . I’m too s
cared to stay alone in my room,” he said, clearly disturbed.
The chain mail again? Really? I thought. I held him by his shoulders and shook him hard. “Breathe!” I said. “We’ll forward the email if that’ll make you feel better.”
We walked up the stairs to my house, trying our best not to wake anyone up. Robb kept looking over his shoulder, convinced that there was something walking behind him. I switched on the computer in my room and waited for the router to come on. As I tapped my foot, Robb twitched nervously. His eyes were fixed on the clock. The time was 11.56 pm.
Once connected to the internet, he logged into his email account, opened the chain mail, and typed in 30 email addresses. The time was 11.57 pm. In his hurry to type out all the addresses, he fumbled and pressed the wrong keys. I could see his hands shaking like those of an old woman.
“Here, let me do it,” I said, pulling him out of the seat. As I pressed the ‘Send’ button, I noticed the small clock at the bottom of my screen. 11.58 pm.
“See! It’s done. Calm down, man,” I assured him as I logged in to check my own email. I could see Robb taking deep breaths, looking relieved.
“Phew. . . I’m so glad that it’s over,” he said as I continued to scroll down. I stopped when a message caught my eye. I clicked it open. I had received it three days ago. “Congrats! You are part of the chain email now. Copy this email and send it to 30 of your friends in three days or something bad. . .”
“Oh no, no, no!” cried Robb. He read the email on my screen. “You have to forward it! Now! Please, please just forward it! It’s already 11.59 pm. Just forward it for my sake!” he screamed hysterically. I turned to assure him that it was silly to believe the email but the words were stuck in my throat.
A misty figure stood near the open window behind Robb. It held out its hand and whispered, “Come. . . walk with me.”
The Wall
- Karthika
“Stop it! Just stay here!” Arjun shouted, as he banged the door shut. He was angry with his little sister Sneha for wanting to tag along.
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