I remember the village which lay hidden deep within the valley, surrounded by massive mountains blocking it from the outside world. Now, when I close my eyes, I can still visualize those narrow winding paths, stone-built houses with wooden roofs, and endless clouds floating freely above the hills as if being spirits.
It had been about three years since I traveled around the northern mountains, looking for the village which could provide me with tranquility and inspiration for my writing. Local people in the neighboring town had tried to discourage me from traveling there. Some of them chuckled nervously when I asked about the village, whereas others simply avoided any related questions.
“This village is very isolated, and its inhabitants follow peculiar traditions,” an old shopkeeper confided in me.
Of course, that kind of information made my interest grow exponentially.
This journey took an unbelievable amount of effort from me. After some point, it became impossible to travel on roads since they were simply absent there – only rugged tracks remained. When I finally entered the valley, it was already darkening.
It was a young boy who saw me first, and he went to inform the village elders about my arrival. Very quickly, some people from the village gathered around me. They seemed to be courteous to me, but still a bit wary, looking curiously into my face because I seemed to be an outsider.
One elder greeted me and introduced himself by name – Dev Singh. He suggested that I could spend the night in the village as it would have been dangerous for me to return through the mountains at nightfall.
I expressed my gratitude.
However, before leaving, the elder stopped by the entrance and told me something I found rather disconcerting.
“In our village,” he began slowly, “there is just one rule that everybody obeys unconditionally.”
I smiled, thinking that the rule must be some light and innocent.
“Which one?”
“Nobody says anything after sunset.”
For a moment, I considered him to joke.
But his expression remained unchanged.
“Not even a whisper,” he continued. “Whatever happens, don’t say anything until sunrise.”
No one did.
And that bizarre warning remained in my mind even after he left. In the darkening twilight hours, I could see the whole village transform before me. Every door and window was sealed. Conversations ended. Even kids ceased their playful activities and went back home.
Then there was silence.
Ordinary silence?
No, it wasn’t.
That eerie silence.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
Almost alive.
I sat close to my room’s little window and watched the last sunlight slip behind the hills. And soon, everything was plunged into total darkness. Not even a dog barked, not even a bug chirped, nor did the wind whisper through the trees.
As if the entire universe took a deep breath.
Initially, I attempted adhering to their tradition. I switched on the little oil lamp kept beside my bed and started writing in my journal. But the silent environment began echoing louder in my head.
Why would a whole village be afraid to talk after sundown?
What could happen then?
My natural curiosity finally won over my restraint.
Around midnight, I couldn’t help myself and crept silently towards the window. The moon-lit streets of the village were totally vacant.
Everything appeared normal.
And I laughed softly at myself.
All seemed fine and normal.
At least that’s what I recall thinking about myself.
But then again, I stupidly murmured just one word.
“Hello.”
That word was almost too quiet to hear out loud.
Nevertheless, as soon as it did leave my mouth, everything started shifting.
The fire flickering in the lamp started shaking fiercely.
A chilling breeze blew into the room even though all the windows were shut tightly. In an instant, my heart rate went up.
And then the word came.
“Helloooo…”
This time, I heard it echoing in from outside.
Only that it didn’t seem to be coming from any person.
It was distorted and elongated in such an unnatural way that whoever was trying to speak must’ve been doing it wrong, having no idea how language worked. The voice seemed both distant and nearby.
My blood froze instantly.
I couldn’t move, standing there in shock.
Another time I heard it.
“Helloooo…”
And after that, I heard steps.
Scratching ones.
Dragging across the stones of the floor.
All I could do was freeze on the spot.
Because those steps stopped right at my doorway.
I remember having smiled at my own nervousness.
Then, for no reason other than foolishness on my part, I had said one word.
“Hello?”
The words didn’t even leave my lips before everything changed.
The flame in the oil lamp trembled violently.
A sudden cold breeze blew through my room, although the windows were tightly shut. The heart started beating fast and furious.
And then I heard it.
“Hellooo…”
The answer was heard somewhere from outside.
However, the voice that I heard was not human.
It was a distorted voice of some sort; it seemed to be struggling to make words but unable to do so.
My heart stopped.
I was frozen in place.
Once more, the voice answered me, this time a bit softer.
“Helloo…”
In that instant, I heard movement outside the room.
Scraping sounds.
Whatever was outside had moved across stones.
All I wanted to do was get away as far as possible.
The movements were just outside my door now.
Nothing was heard except for the movement of something walking just outside the door.
The movement stopped.
There were no sounds afterward.
No breathing.
No sound of movement.
Nothing but silence.
The wooden handle of my door had moved.
Once again.
My legs felt numb with fear.
Keep quiet till sunrise.
I placed my shaking hands over my mouth and froze like a statue. Minutes felt like an eternity. But somehow, I knew there was someone out there, listening… waiting.
Then gradually, the sound of scratching began to recede.
I spent the rest of the night wide-awake, too scared to even take a deep breath.
The following morning, sunlight streamed down from above the valley like nothing was amiss. The birds started chirping again. The villagers came out without fear and went about their daily routines.
However, there was one thing that caught my attention.
Some villagers seemed to know what I did.
More specifically, Dev Singh.
He came up behind me while I stood by the village well, tired and pale.
“You talked last night,” he whispered.
It wasn’t a question.
I nodded faintly.
After a few moments, he added, “Now you know why we don’t.”
I needed to know more than anything else, but somewhere within me, I did not want to know anymore.
As I left the village that day, I glanced back once at the valley. Under the sun, everything seemed normal and unremarkable.
But there was more than beauty underneath.
There was one basic rule that the villagers needed to follow if they wanted to survive.
Don’t talk after dusk.
Even now, years later, when there is an unusually quiet night, I always think of that little village tucked away in the valley and the reply I received.
@Sujata Maggoo
