I was relaxing with my friends after a late-night party. And the conversation veered to the supernatural. The unknown fascinates us.
Call my friends a weird bunch but all of us have experienced our share of the spooks, at some time or the other. The end of this month is Halloween, a celebration of everything spooky.
Each one of us was trying to outdo the other’s horror story. The stories somehow brought out the brave side in us. We seemed to possess a special inborn talent to narrate stories. My narration skills too seem to have improved.
Every time I narrate my favourite horror story, I add some more fictional details, adding to its overall impact. But these experiences leave me feeling petrified.. and even slightly silly, in the end.
Recently I had gone to Goa. I was living in a plush hotel. It had an old-world charm about it and was a collection of
villas, not very well lit, each one situated at a distance from the other.
They were surrounded by greenery. So it would get pitch dark after sunset. It had the makings of a romantic getaway but I was alone in the villa in the middle of nowhere.
Once I stepped into the hotel, it was difficult to get back to the buzzing part of Goa. With very little to do and tons of spare time in the evenings, all I could think of doing was watch TV.
I don’t know why, among the many DVDs that I usually carry with me, I’d also added a horror flick to my collection. Trust me, this is no exaggeration but sitting in the dimly lit hotel, The Blair Witch Project, a sort of documentary on the hunt for a witch, was probably the scariest movie I’d ever watched.
I could have stopped the film halfway but the sadist in me compelled me to continue. I behaved like a real sissy when the movie ended. I was so scared that it took me all the courage in the world to use the washroom.
Anyway to cut a long story short, it ended on a funny note. As I was taking a shower and trying hard not to let my imagination drive me to insanity, suddenly I saw the water drainage duct moving up and down.
I couldn’t figure out why but I imagined the worst. I felt as if the next moment, a hand would emerge and grab me. Suffice it to say that it was the quickest shower in my bathing history.
I ran out of the bathroom to the reception, wrapped only in my towel. I asked them to get the duct fixed. Then I called up my make-up man and requested him to sleep in my room. I was too scared to sleep alone. The imaginary ghosts and gremlins took over for a few days.
Every time I narrate this incident, I conveniently drop out the part about me dashing off to the reception draped in
In hindsight, it seems fun. Back then, it sent a chill up my spine. And yeah, no more horror flicks for me, when I’m alone in a deserted place.