That Terrifying Night

I was in a hurry to reach my village on time, so I left home in the afternoon. I assumed I would reach before evening, but fate had other plans. In a deserted area, the bus broke down. At first, the driver and his assistant tried to fix the fault themselves. When they failed, the assistant was sent to a nearby town to call a mechanic.

By the time the bus was repaired, evening had turned into night. When I got off at my stop, darkness had fully settled. To reach my village, I had to walk about three kilometers along a dirt path branching off from the main road.

There was no moon in the sky, no moonlight—only the faint twinkling of stars, which made the surroundings eerie and mysterious. This was my first time traveling alone at night. My heart was pounding so loudly that, in the deep silence, I could hear every beat clearly.

I had only walked a short distance when suddenly an owl flapped loudly right above my head, flying from one tree to another. Its terrifying cry startled me badly. I looked around in panic. At that moment, I heard rustling in the bushes. Startled, I glanced toward the tall shrubs and felt as if someone was standing behind them.

As I stepped back in fear, I collided with something. A scream escaped my mouth. Turning around, I realized it was just a tree—I had crashed into it in panic. But then I sensed a shadow behind the tree. When I stepped back, it seemed to move toward me.

Terrified, I started running blindly. Suddenly, I stopped short—right in front of me stood a tall, ghost-like figure blocking my way. As I tried to retreat, someone grabbed at me from the bushes. Screaming, I ran again, with strange rustling sounds chasing me.

While running, I caught sight of a witch hanging upside down from a tree, her hair loose. In the darkness, her eyes glowed like burning embers. When she lunged toward me, I screamed and fled off the road into the fields. Jumping over crops and bushes, I ran until the ground vanished beneath my feet and I fell face-first into a muddy pond.

With great difficulty, I crawled out. Covered in mud and dirt, I myself looked like a ghost. Shivering with cold and fear, I ran again, terrified that those creatures would catch me.

After a long, frantic detour, I reached near the village—only to face another disaster. The village dogs mistook me for a ghost and chased me furiously. In panic, I ran and lost my way home. Somehow, I finally found the house, the dogs still on my heels.

I banged on the door with both hands.

“Who is it?” a voice called from inside.

“Open the door quickly!” I shouted.

My cousin opened the door but recoiled in fear at the sight of me. I rushed inside as the dogs barked wildly outside.

“Who are you?” my cousin asked, trembling.

Other family members gathered, equally frightened. When I told them my name, they recognized me with difficulty. My uncle asked what had happened.

“Some evil spirits were chasing me,” I said.

Everyone stared in shock. After hearing the whole story, my uncle laughed and said, “There were no spirits. You were frightened by your own imagination. In the darkness, trees and bushes looked like ghosts and witches. Only the owl was real.”

As my senses returned, I realized he was right. My fear was born of imagination. I often read ghost and witch stories, and those fantasies had taken shape in the darkness, frightening me for real.

“Oh God,” I said, holding my head, “it was all the trick of my own imagination.”