Believe

“Betty Thompson was a normal lady, probably in her mid-forties. She lived a usual life naturally boring. She was a friendly creature, and her life showed no signs of change, until she was run over by a drunken truck driver while she was walking down the lane to her home. She did not die immediately, she was veiling for help, badly injured. She cried out loud until the air in her lungs went out and her heart stopped. No one responded to her voice because they thought it to be their false imagination. She drew her last breath and cursed aloud,’ whoever may walk a road at night alone, shall suffer the rain.’
Later in the day when she was found out, people reported about over hearing her faint voice. According to the stories, she did not take any revenge by killing the truck driver or haunting the people due to their ignorant behavior.
She was only remembered a few years later when a boy was found hanging from a tree, his bones were crushed like he had been hit but the absence of a single mark on his body confirmed that he did not have any such accident or encounter with a vehicle.
Couple of years ago, a girl was found dead on the streets, the doctors confirmed a heart attack, but the fright on her face and the white color of her body triggered the gossips. People said that she must have seen a strange animal, but believers say that she could have seen a ghost. And the most important or rather I must say the interesting thing about these myths is that they both happened on a day when it was raining.”
As I finished speaking I could see the astonishment in the eyes of my companion. If only it had not been raining tonight he would have been more comfortable. The sound of the raindrops falling on our umbrella was sounding like a thousand drums going off. The opera of nature was only fluctuated as my companion tilted his head and asked with fearful eyes, eyes which told me that he had already guessed my probable answer but was still hoping me to confirm it. “Is it true? All of this story which you have been babbling aloud.” Now the fear of the possible negative unacceptable answer was all over his face. Perhaps, he was regretting why he had asked me anyway about this. He could have just suppressed his unnecessary evil fantasies by just crushing them with the “SUCH THINGS DON’T EXIST!!” stone. But now it all depended upon me. And to his surprise I laughed out loud. He seemed so relieved thinking that I had been joking. “It actually depends...” I answered still smiling. “Depends? What are the preconceptions for the truth to be called true?” He asked now more eagerly like a boy goes in a shadowy place knowing danger could be lurking there, but the hunger of knowing out keeps the boy driving him towards his hopeful end…
“Well it depends upon whether you believe it or not. I mean you have to believe in truth if you hope to feel good after telling it or else you just lie in the face of a person.” I explained him in the most inexplicable way. “Well you know about death even if you try not believing in it”, he opposed. “Well everyone believes in death but you don’t recall many people agreeing in supernatural events”, I simply stated. “Well I don’t believe”, he said aloud just to comfort himself or to tell any soul wandering near him. “It’s not what you say, it’s all mugged up in here, it depends what’s inside”, I said tapping my head. “But what if we just for a bit believe in it?” he asked, finally showing signs of mental nervousness. After a long silence I answered, “Even if you come to know that you have started believing just don’t fear.” He sensed reassurance and smiled happily for the first time.
“I want to scare someone right now, it will be such great fun at this time of night”, he said mockingly. “Well you can’t think of tricking me”, I said confidently. “Not you! Someone else”, he said lowly.
Sometime later, we nearly ran into a man, he had hideous eyes. I never saw him while we were coming. Perhaps that was because of his black raincoat, he had curly hair and his face looked ancient. “Aha! You know what?” my less intelligent friend sprang up. “What?” the man said questioningly. “I don’t believe neither should you, or else you’ll suffer the rain”, he said in a mocking way. “Huh!?” the man said confused to what he just heard. “Never mind, you are just a lonely soul about to die in this rain of the forgotten myths” my acquaintance quavered. I looked down ashamed, staring at the flickering images of both of us in the rain water. “Sorry but I think you should go now…” the man said abhorrently.
“See it was so much fun!” he spoke after some steps. “No, it was not”, I said flatly. “But we nearly scared that man like hell, I liked it so much”, he said playfully. “Some great person said that ‘These violent fantasies have violent ends’ you know”, I said sternly. “Oh! Never heard any such thing. Anyways, who said it?” he asked in a delusional way. “William Shakespeare”, I barked back. “Anyways here is my home. Goodbye”, I said and started walking away. “Tada, I hope you don’t believe”, he shouted back.
He lived just two blocks away, as he was walking he saw a woman. He walked up to her and said, “Have you heard the story of Betty Thompson?” “Well, have you heard it?” the woman fired back at him. “Yup I have, but haven’t you?” he asked again to come back at her. “If you have, then you must suffer”, she said. “But I don’t believe in all this”, he said nearly shouting. After a brief pause, a whisper flowed through the trees, “It’s not whether you believe it or not, it’s just that you know the fear to know that it could happen to you.”
Later in the morning, I was awakened by the sound of people in a rush. I also started walking with them. On reaching a place, I overheard that someone was killed here last night and then cut into pieces. I was moved with fear when the possibility of my friend being killed shadowed over me. I moved a step forward, but to my utter confusion, the body over there was not of a man but of a woman. I was dumbstruck for a moment wondering, ‘How close I could have been to death, just escaped my fate from another nightmare of the memories that could have been formed last night. Just an inch away from becoming another confused legend. Thanks to my friend…’ The word ‘friend’ hit me like a brick, my eyes widened with horror and fear of possibility. What if that friend of mine was the ghost! Why didn’t he kill me?
I was interrupted in my thoughts by the sound of people screaming. I saw another body was being lifted down from the ambulance, this time it was a male, face badly crushed. I quickly looked down at the ground with disgust and awe, thinking how wrong I was, that poor fellow was killed himself, how could he be the murderer. I felt sorry for him; I was the cause for his death. If only I wouldn’t have told him all that ‘Betty stuff’. I was no less than a murderer than myself. Poor man, what was to happen of his family? And it slowly dawned over me that my shadow was not there beneath my feet. I grew cold with fear only to realize that the body lying in front of me was my own…
The world appeared to be revolving all around me. Everything appeared to be fuzzy. I wanted to howl at the top of my voice but it would be of no use to me. The only comforting thing was that my friend was not hurt or was he lying somewhere just like my body.
Two legs appeared before my eyes and a manly voice said, “Another one of those stupid stories people will connect these two. Another pair of chapters to that myth…””Do you believe in this officer?” a man asked from behind. I turned back to smile at my friend from last night. His eyes were staring at me, not through me unlike those of the policeman, but still I was comforted that he couldn’t see me. I lowered my head with ease. “No, I don’t believe in all this shit”, the officer answered. My friend fired back in his usual sense, “Actually it’s not that if you believe it or not, nor it’s your fearlessness that could save you.” I looked up, now we were staring into each other’s eyes, he continued, “You know the thing which kills you and haunts you, it’s just that you know the fear to know it could happen to you…”

Do you believe or fear?

Written By: Atul Shrotriya
Edited and ideologies offered by: Jugal Shrivastava
Pre-comprehended By: Rishabh Soni & Vinayak Tiwari