At the edge of the city lay an old cremation ground that no one visited after sunset. The air there was always cold, carrying the smell of ash and burnt wood. Locals believed the spirits of the uncremated dead wandered between the pyres, waiting for peace that never came.
One night, Karan, a journalist chasing a big story, entered the cremation ground with a camera and a torch. The flames of half-burnt pyres flickered without wind. As he walked deeper, he heard chanting mixed with distant cries. His torchlight revealed shadows moving where no bodies lay.
Suddenly, a figure rose from the ashes—a man with a charred face and hollow eyes. “Why did you come?” it whispered. Karan tried to run, but the ground felt soft, as if hands were pulling him down. Bells rang from nowhere, and the fire burned blue.
Dozens of spirits appeared, circling him, their bodies covered in ash. They spoke in one voice, “This is where souls are trapped.”
At dawn, villagers found Karan’s camera near the pyres. The last footage showed him screaming as ash covered the lens. Since then, the cremation ground burns even when no fire is lit—and someone is always watching.
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