**The Ghost of Holika**
In the kingdom of King Hiranyakashipu, the festival of Holi had arrived once again. People were joyfully drenching each other in colors, but in a corner of the village, an eerie silence enveloped the old forest. This was the same forest where, centuries ago, Holika had tried to burn Prahlad.
The villagers avoided this forest, believing that Holika's spirit still roamed there. But a group of young friends decided to ignore the warnings. On the night of Holi, they ventured into the forest, seeking adventure.
There were five of them—Rahul, Priya, Ankit, Sonali, and Vijay. They laid out a large mat in the middle of the forest and gathered wood for the Holika bonfire. As the fire blazed, they began singing and dancing. But suddenly, a cold gust of wind extinguished the flames.
"What happened?" Priya asked, her voice trembling.
"Must be the wind," Rahul said, though his voice shook.
Just then, they heard a faint laughter behind them. They turned around, but no one was there.
"Let's get out of here," Sonali said, her heart pounding.
But as they prepared to leave, they heard another sound. It was a woman's voice, softly humming—
"Prahlad... Prahlad... where are you?"
They froze. Ankit turned on his flashlight and saw the shadow of a woman peeking from behind a tree. The shadow slowly began moving toward them.
"Run!" Vijay shouted.
They sprinted toward the edge of the forest, but when they reached it, they realized they were back where they started. The forest had shifted, and they were running in circles.
Then, they saw her—the spirit of Holika, standing before them. Her face was burning, and flames shot out from her eyes.
"You have disturbed my peace," Holika's voice echoed. "Now, you will stay with me."
Rahul and his friends screamed, but no one heard them. Holika's spirit surrounded them, and one by one, they began to disappear.
The next morning, the villagers entered the forest and found only an empty mat and the remnants of a extinguished fire. Rahul and his friends were nowhere to be found.
It is said that Holika's spirit still wanders in that forest, and whoever disturbs her peace becomes her prey.
So, the next time Holi comes around, remember—some stories are more than just tales.
💀 I don’t write stories… I shape fear into words.
Whoever reads my stories will inevitably face fear at some point.
Think about it, the next story could be about you
**The End**
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