Trapped With the Spirits at Midnight / Chapter 1: The Beggar’s Warning
Trapped With the Spirits at Midnight

Trapped With the Spirits at Midnight

Author: Diya Khan

Chapter 1: The Beggar’s Warning

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When I was a child, an old beggar came to our shop, his voice thick with warning. He croaked, "At midnight, a vengeful spirit who died a terrible death will come to claim a life. Close up early, beta."

His hands quivered as he gripped the counter, his eyes sunken deep in his skull. The bell on our shop door jingled with a warm evening breeze, mixing the smell of frying pakoras from the street with a sudden, heavy feeling that settled over everything. Even though the sun was still up, it felt as if a curtain of darkness had fallen inside. I remember the way he looked at me—like he’d seen too many things in this world and the next.

After giving his warning, the beggar shuffled away, his battered slippers dragging through the dust. He melted into the orange glow of the streetlights, cycle bells and the chaiwallah’s laughter fading behind him. The sense of unease he left behind wrapped around us, heavy as an old woollen shawl on a humid night.

Dadi wrinkled her brow, asking, "Kya pata, beta? Beggars say anything these days. Should we take it seriously?"

She tucked her saree’s pallu into her waist, adjusting her spectacles and giving the empty space a suspicious glare. Her voice carried the wisdom of someone who’d survived everything from Partition to power cuts, but I caught a flicker of worry in her eyes.

Dada stroked his silvery moustache. "Arrey, humne toh itna punya kamaya hai, na? Maybe there’s some truth in what that buddha said. He came all this way just to warn us. Better to be careful, hai na?"

His gaze landed on the wall calendar, Lord Hanuman’s image seeming to keep silent watch over us. Dada always believed in omens—especially when they came from unexpected mouths.

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