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It is windy outside tonight. The leaves are rustling noisily in the dark. The wind seems to have pitted itself against the tin roofing of the outhouse next-door, trying to dislodge it with little success. The metallic noises disturb the dog. Alert, she raises her head to look in the general direction, but flops back and goes back to sleep.

As I walk upstairs the wind can be heard rattling the window of my room. It almost sounds as if someone outside is knocking urgently, wanting to be let in. The curtains billow. As if on cue, the lights dim, and flicker. I hold my breath hoping they won’t go off altogether. All it takes is a branch to break off a tree and fall for the inevitable to happen.

The ambience is perfect for a scary story. And what’s more, I do have one hatching since quite some days now. But I am loathe to write it today of all days, precisely because the setting is right. Everyone knows what happened the last time I tried to write a scary story in an ordinary setting. I ended up getting scared myself. True story. Don’t laugh. It could happen to anyone. Oh who am I kidding. These things happen to me.

Anyway, right now I am all alone upstairs, the dog having chosen to sleep in the hall on the ground floor. There’s the noisy wind, rattling window, billowing curtains and the flickering lights to contend with. Too much, if you ask me. Not to mention the croaking frogs who have joined the audio cum visual show.

Do croaking frogs figure in scary stories? I am not so sure. But who cares! I am going to fit them in mine, that is, when I get down to writing it. I am not making the same mistake twice though. This time, the story shall be written only when the daylight is streaming through the window reassuringly, and the L&M and Luci are in hearing distance. 😉

© Shail Mohan 2020