Shahid Ansari Tech

The Forgotten Echoes In a secluded village nestled deep within an ancient forest, there was an old house that everyone whispered about but never dared approach. Known as Blackthorn Manor, it stood in eerie isolation, its windows darkened by grime, its doors hanging slightly ajar as if inviting the curious to step into its ominous shadows. Over the years, locals had shared chilling tales of those who entered and never returned. The story began with Elise, a 24-year-old journalist eager to break into the big leagues. She wasn’t afraid of ghost stories or superstitions, dismissing them as exaggerated folklore. When Elise stumbled upon rumors of Blackthorn Manor while researching urban legends, her curiosity was piqued. Determined to prove herself, she packed her camera, flashlight, and a notebook, ready to unravel the truth behind the village’s mysterious landmark. Arriving at the edge of the village as the sun dipped below the horizon, Elise was greeted with silence that felt almost aliv...

 The Man in the Basement Amira never felt at ease in the old Victorian house her family had moved into. It was charming, with its high ceilings, intricate moldings, and tall, stained-glass windows. But there was something about it that made her skin crawl. Perhaps it was the way the wooden floors groaned under the lightest footsteps or the way shadows stretched too far in the evenings. But nothing unsettled her more than the basement. The basement wasn’t just dark and musty like most basements—it felt alive. Every time she passed by the door at the end of the hallway, she felt the air grow colder. The hair on her arms would stand on end, and a heavy, unexplainable dread would settle in her chest. Something about the basement whispered of danger, as though it held secrets too dark to uncover. Amira had never gone down there. She didn’t need to. Just standing at the top of the stairs was enough to send chills racing down her spine. Her parents dismissed her fears, laughing them off a...

 The Light That Never Went Out Maya had a soft spot for old things. There was something magical about objects with history—the way they seemed to carry the weight of their past lives. Her apartment was filled with vintage finds: second-hand books, antique vases, and faded postcards from places she’d never been. So, when she spotted the brass lamp at the back of a dusty second-hand store, it felt like fate. Its tarnished surface gleamed faintly in the dim light, and its delicate, yellowed fabric shade hinted at better days. It was perfect. Without hesitation, she bought it, feeling like she had stumbled upon a treasure. When she brought it home, she placed it carefully on her bedside table and plugged it in. The lamp sputtered to life, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. Maya smiled. The light was soothing, soft, and comforting, making her small apartment feel like a sanctuary. It was exactly what she needed after a long day. But that night, something strange happened. As she...

 The Room That Shouldn’t Exist Karan had always believed he was practical. No superstition, no overthinking—just straightforward logic. That’s why when he found an old flat in a slightly rundown building at a price that seemed too good to be true, he didn’t think twice. A good deal was a good deal, after all. The landlord was eager to rent it out, and while the building had its creaks and groans, the flat itself seemed fine. Two bedrooms, a decent kitchen, and enough space for one person. Karan figured he’d struck gold. The first couple of weeks were uneventful. Karan had one room as his bedroom and used the second for storage. It wasn’t a luxurious flat, but it served his needs. The days were peaceful, and the nights, while eerily quiet, didn’t bother him much. However, as the third week began, something changed. One night, as Karan was heading to bed, something caught his eye at the end of the hallway. It stopped him in his tracks. Where he had always seen a blank wall, there was...

 The Shadow in the Mirror Nisha had never liked the mirror in her grandmother's old house. It wasn’t just any mirror—it was tall, heavy, and framed in dark wood, intricately carved into swirling patterns. If you stared at it long enough, the designs began to look like faces, watching you. The glass was old, tarnished, and dotted with small black spots that distorted reflections, making them look… wrong. Every time Nisha visited, she made a point to avoid the hallway where the mirror stood. She always told herself it was childish—just an old house with an old mirror—but something about it made her feel uneasy. The mirror had always been there, at the end of the second-floor hallway, in the deepest part of the house's shadows. Her grandmother had lived in that house for as long as Nisha could remember, and as a child, she had been warned never to look into the mirror at night. It was just a superstition, of course, but Nisha never quite got over the feeling that there was somethi...

 The Whispering Well Deep in the heart of a forgotten village stood an ancient well, weathered by time and surrounded by twisted trees that seemed to reach out like gnarled hands. The well had a dark reputation among the villagers. They called it the “Whispering Well,” and everyone avoided it. For years, rumors had circulated—stories of people who ventured too close, who listened to its whispers, and never returned. Aryan had heard these stories all his life. He grew up with the tales of the cursed well, how it called to those brave enough to approach, and how some who heard its voice were never seen again. But Aryan wasn’t one to believe in superstitions. Ghost stories and old legends didn’t scare him. To him, they were just that—stories. One moonless night, while hanging out with his friends, Aryan found himself standing near the well. They were in the village for the weekend, catching up and joking around, when one of his friends, Raghav, dared him to go to the Whispering Well. ...

 The House That Breathed It all began with a dare. Meera and her friends, Rahul and Sana, were walking home late one night after a party when they passed the old Vishram mansion. Everyone in town had heard the rumors—people said the house was cursed, alive, and no one who went inside ever came out the same. Rahul laughed as they approached the mansion's broken gate. "Come on, Meera. You’re always saying ghosts aren’t real. Prove it." Sana shivered. "This place gives me the creeps. I don’t like it." But Meera wasn’t scared. "Fine," she said, brushing past them and walking toward the gate. "I’ll go in. Are you coming?" Rahul hesitated, his bravado slipping. "Uh, maybe just you. We’ll wait here." "Figures," Meera muttered, rolling her eyes. She pushed open the gate, which creaked loudly, as if the house itself didn’t want her to enter. The mansion stood before her, its windows broken, and its roof sagging. But there was somet...

 The Hollow Man It was a rainy night when Vikram’s car broke down on a quiet, empty street. The rain poured heavily, making the world feel small and distant. Thick fog wrapped around the streetlights, hiding the road and making everything feel cold and silent except for the steady sound of raindrops hitting the ground. Vikram had walked down this road many times before, but tonight felt different. There was a strange chill in the air that he couldn’t shake. He thought it was just because he was tired from work. All he wanted was to get home and rest. But then, he heard something. Footsteps. At first, Vikram wasn’t sure if he was imagining it. He stopped and listened carefully, his heart suddenly racing. The footsteps stopped as well. He turned around but saw nothing. The street was empty, just the rain and the fog. “Just your imagination,” Vikram muttered to himself. But his steps became quicker, and his breath grew shallow as he hurried down the street. Then, he heard the footstep...

 The Stranger in the Fog It was well past midnight when Aarav’s car suddenly broke down. He was on an empty stretch of road, with nothing but thick fog around him. The fog was so dense that it swallowed the light from his car’s headlights, leaving him unable to see more than a few feet ahead. Aarav checked his phone for help, but there was no signal, and the nearest town was miles away. He knew he had no choice but to start walking. The fog was cold and damp, wrapping itself around him like a blanket. Every step he took echoed strangely, as if the road beneath him stretched on forever. He kept glancing over his shoulder, feeling an odd pressure on his chest as if someone or something was watching him. But there was nothing—just the thick, gray fog. Then, he heard it. A faint shuffle, like someone dragging their feet through the fog. Aarav stopped dead in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat. He held his breath and listened, but the sound didn’t stop. It was coming closer. “Hello?”...

 The Forgotten Room Ravi had always been drawn to the peculiar. Ever since he was a child, he had been fascinated by things that most people found strange or unsettling—forgotten buildings, abandoned streets, and the mysteries that lay hidden in corners of the world. So, when he first heard whispers about an old mansion on the outskirts of his village, he knew he had to see it for himself. The villagers warned him, their faces pale with fear, urging him not to venture near the mansion. It was cursed, they said. It had stood empty for decades, its walls crumbling and its grounds overrun by weeds and ivy. But Ravi, ever the skeptic, dismissed their superstitions as nothing more than the idle gossip of frightened villagers. To him, the mansion was merely a decaying relic of the past—a place waiting to be explored. On a cloudy afternoon, when the sky was thick with clouds and the air had a chill that hinted at the coming rain, Ravi finally decided to go. The mansion, though imposing, w...

 The Whispers in the Walls The house was ordinary—white walls, a creaky wooden floor, and windows that rattled in the wind. It wasn’t particularly old, and the neighborhood was as unremarkable as the house itself. When Priya moved in, she was confident this quiet home in a sleepy town would help her focus. She was a writer, after all. Cities had been too noisy, too fast. Here, she hoped to find peace. But from the moment Priya stepped inside, she felt something strange. It wasn’t obvious—no sudden chills or shadows, just a weight in the air. A heavy stillness that seemed to press down on her shoulders. She brushed it off as exhaustion from the move and her ever-turbulent imagination. Yet, as the days turned into nights, the whispers began. The first time it happened, Priya was drifting off to sleep. A faint sound crept into her half-conscious mind, like someone murmuring on the other side of the wall. She sat up sharply, her heart pounding. She held her breath, listening, but the s...