The Bridge of No Return

Maya arrived at Viran Gaon as dusk settled over the land. The village was a shadow of what it might have been years ago. The houses, worn and crooked, seemed like they were holding themselves up by sheer will. The air was thick with silence. Even the birds stayed away.

She stood at the edge of the village, staring at the path leading to Kaala Pul. A dense fog was beginning to roll in, the temperature dropping with each step she took. The bridge loomed in the distance, black and twisted against the dimming sky, like a scar on the earth itself.

The villagers had warned her, but they didn't speak in full sentences. They murmured in broken phrases, their voices trailing off when she got too close.

"No one ever comes back from that place..." an old woman had whispered, clutching a rosary around her neck.

Maya didn't care. She had to see it. She had to know what happened to her father.

The path was narrow, bordered by rotting trees whose branches clawed at the air. The fog thickened as she approached the bridge, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the damp earth. And then she saw it.

Kaala Pul.

It was more imposing in person than any photo could convey. The bridge was twisted, half-broken, the beams creaking with the weight of age. The wooden planks were cracked and blackened, as if the very wood had been scorched by fire. The railings were twisted, their shapes unnatural, as though they had been bent by unseen hands.

A low hum filled the air, coming from beneath the bridge. It sounded like something… breathing.

Maya took a step closer, the hum growing louder, vibrating in her chest. Her heart hammered as she approached the first of the broken planks. Her fingers brushed against the splintered wood, and a sharp coldness seeped into her skin.

Suddenly, a voice broke the silence. A low, guttural whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

> "Maya… why did you come?"

Her breath caught in her throat. The voice was her father's. But it wasn't. It was darker. Distorted.

She turned around, heart racing, but saw no one. The village was far behind, the fog swallowing it whole.

"Dad?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

The hum from the bridge intensified, now sounding like a chorus of whispers—more voices, overlapping, indistinguishable. But they all had one thing in common: they were calling her name.

> "Maya… come closer… the bridge wants you…"

Against her better judgment, Maya stepped onto the bridge.

As soon as her foot touched the first plank, a cold gust of wind blew through the beams, followed by the sound of something scraping across the wood—something alive. Her blood turned to ice as she slowly moved forward.

Each step felt heavier, like the bridge was pulling her in. The planks underfoot groaned with age, but Maya felt something else beneath the creaking—something darker. A deep, echoing hunger that seemed to grow stronger with each step.

Then, something moved in the fog ahead of her. A figure—a shadow—was standing in the middle of the bridge. Tall, thin, its face obscured by a hood. The figure didn't move. Didn't speak.

Maya froze, her heart pounding in her chest.

The figure stepped forward, slow and deliberate, its feet making no sound. It was closing the distance between them, its movements smooth, unnatural.

"W-who are you?" Maya managed to whisper, her voice barely audible.

The figure didn't answer. It just kept coming, its presence growing more oppressive. The air seemed to tighten around her, making it hard to breathe. The whispers swirled louder, merging into one sound—a scream that shook her bones.

Maya turned to run, but the bridge seemed endless now. The planks stretched on, twisting into shadows that closed around her. The figure was gone, but she could feel its presence, watching, waiting.

And then, out of the fog, something appeared on the bridge—a child.

A little girl, no older than eight, dressed in torn rags. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow, like two dark holes staring straight through Maya.

The girl held out a hand, and as she did, a low, rasping voice came from the depths of the bridge.

> "Help us. We never left."

The child's voice was the same as the whispers. Same as the figure. It was all one.

Maya stepped back, her breath quickening. The girl's hollow eyes stared at her with an intensity that made her blood run cold. Her legs shook, but she forced herself to move, to run.

But the bridge didn't let her.

It twisted, the wooden beams shifting beneath her feet, dragging her forward. The whispers were louder now—screaming, screeching, demanding. Maya stumbled, her foot catching on something—a body—a body that wasn't there moments before.

She looked down.

A skeletal hand reached up from the planks, grabbing her ankle. Its fingers were long and sharp, like the claws of some dark creature.

Maya screamed, kicking it off, but as she did, the planks around her began to shift, opening like a mouth, ready to swallow her whole.

And then, she saw it. A shadow—her father's face, twisted and pale, emerging from the darkness beneath the bridge.

> "Maya… you should have stayed away."

Before she could react, the world faded. The darkness consumed her, pulling her into the very bridge that had been waiting for her all along.