CHAPTER 1: The Inheritance

I was sitting in my room when I came across the strange letter. It was a yellowed, old envelope with my name written on it-in neat handwriting, as if written by someone from the olden days. I was surprised. Where do you find such envelopes these days? Still, I opened the envelope and began to read the paper inside carefully.

"Dear Anya,"

I read aloud.

"I am sorry to inform you that your distant relative, Mrs. Radha Devi, is no more in this world. After her demise, you have inherited a part of her property-her old house in the village. Please come and accept it."

I froze. "Radha Devi?" I asked myself. "Who is she?"

I had never heard of such a name. Mother had never spoken of any distant relative. Then this sudden inheritance? And that too a house?

A little confused, I called my mother.

"Mom, do you know anything about Radha Devi?" I asked.

Mom was silent for a few moments, as if she was trying to remember the name. Then she said softly, "Yes, she was your grandmother's distant sister. We did not have much to do with her, but it was an old house in the village. Why? What happened?"

"I have received a letter from her. I have inherited that house."

Mom was silent for a while.

"Will you go there?" she asked, a little worry was clearly evident in her voice.

"I am thinking about it," I said. "Perhaps it is worth seeing it once. What kind of house is it, and why did you give it to me?"

Mom sighed slightly. "Okay, go and see it. But be careful. I have not heard anything good about that place."

Mom's words left a strange restlessness in my heart. What could possibly be going on in that house? But curiosity compelled me to go there. I wanted to know what it was all about.

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The next week, I made the trip. The village was far from the city-a long, lonely road, with nothing but rows of trees and a quiet atmosphere. As I got closer to the house, I felt a strange silence in the air. Finally, the house came into view.

The house was old-very old. Its walls were weathered by dust and the ravages of time. The window panes were made of wood, which were now almost rotten. There were thick vines growing around the house, as if no one had touched it in years.

I took a deep breath and said to myself, "This is a very strange place."

Putting my hand on the doorknob, I slowly opened it. The door creaked open, as if it too was buried under many layers of time.

As I stepped inside, a cool breeze hit me. The courtyard of the house was quite big, but it was dark inside. The furniture was old-wooden cupboards, broken sofas and dusty pictures hanging on the walls.

I whispered to myself, "Have I come to the right place?"

Then I saw a big, old mirror in a corner. It had a thick layer of dust on it, as if no one had touched it for many years.

"What is this?" I muttered.

My steps automatically started moving towards the mirror. When I came closer and looked at it, I realized that it was not an ordinary mirror. Its border had fine carvings-like old-time art, which is not seen now.

I gently cleaned the dust from it, and as soon as I saw my reflection in it, for a moment I felt that I was not alone.

Someone was standing behind.

I quickly turned around, but there was no one there.

"Maybe it's just my imagination," I consoled myself. But somewhere inside, a strange restlessness had taken over.

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