The Haunted bridge: A Terrifying Encounter in Shivpur Village

Haunted bridge

Haunted bridge encounter

The first time I experienced something truly terrifying happened just a month ago on a haunted bridge. Our village, Shivpur, nestled on the banks of the Bhima River, flourishes in its way. The villagers believe in the existence of ghosts, and it is rare for anyone to venture out of their houses at night. However, being from educated households, my four friends – Raj, Arjun, Karan, and Rahul – and I were exceptions. We didn’t believe in ghosts. We found the subject fascinating. Little did we know that our faith was about to be challenged.

One evening, our friend Nikhil invited us to his house for a chaotic event called Jagran. We eagerly accepted the invitation and set off towards Nikhil’s house, which was about 5 kilometres away from our colony. As we made our way, chatting and listening to music, the fear of ghosts didn’t even cross our minds. We sang a song called “Mai Zindagi ka Saat Nibhata Gaya” with gusto, passing through places that were rumoured to be haunted. We laughed, recalling the stories and experiences shared by others.

Finally, we arrived at a bridge. Arjun decided to smoke and chose a stone nearby as his spot. We playfully teased him about the eerie reputation of that place. The stone had a story associated with it – villagers claimed to have seen a ghost there. As we chuckled, Arjun suddenly let out a scream. We rushed towards him, only to find him standing there trembling, his eyes fixed on something. He tried to point and show us, but to our surprise, we saw nothing.

“Oh, he’s just pulling our leg,” Karan said, trying to ease the tension. We shrugged it off and continued walking. But as we moved forward, something felt amiss. The bridge we had just crossed was now in front of us again. We returned to the same spot. It sent a shiver down our spines, and we became serious. Confusion filled the air as we wondered whether to move forward, go back, or stay put. With an underlying fear, we crossed the bridge again and continued our journey.

As we crossed the bridge, the road ahead seemed clear. We took a few steps forward, our bodies trembling with unease. Suddenly, we found ourselves facing the same bridge once more. The stories we had heard from the villagers about this place echoed in our minds. We exchanged fearful glances, perspiration dripping down our faces. An overwhelming sense of dread consumed us. However, a peacock’s piercing scream broke the silence, drawing our attention. We ran towards the sound and found the injured peacock lying on the ground. We gently picked it up and tried to help.

While attending to the peacock, Karan accidentally stepped on a cat’s tail, startling it. The cat scratched Karan’s leg, leaving a bleeding wound. My inner turmoil intensified, and I desperately started chanting Lord Ganesha’s Aarti, hoping that divine intervention would spare us from any harm. As I looked ahead again, I was astonished to see that the bridge had transformed into a normal road. We wasted no time and ran down that road, our feet carrying us as fast as they could. The fear within us remained unabated, and our only desire was to reach the safety of the village as quickly as possible. The distance still seemed great, and uncertainty loomed over us.

Thankfully, we spotted a Ganpati temple along the way. Seeking solace, we hurried inside and sat down, gazing at each other with a mix of relief and apprehension. However, one face was missing – Karan. I inquired about his whereabouts, but no one knew. Despite being in the temple of Lord Ganesha, fear continued to grip our hearts. We scanned the surroundings in search of Karan, and Suraj peeked out of the temple. Karan was not there, but he spotted his father’s tractor approaching. Suraj called out to his dad, and the tractor came to a halt. We rushed towards it, sharing our harrowing experience with Suraj’s father. Seeking the blessings of Lord Ganesha, we embarked on a search for Karan with his father’s help.

Eventually, we found Karan unconscious near the bridge. We quickly carried him to the tractor, and together we made our way back home. Although Karan regained consciousness the next day, he had no recollection of what had transpired. All he remembered was falling and sustaining a head injury. The rest of us were left pondering the mysterious events that had unfolded on that bridge, as the villagers had warned us about. Even today, we don’t dare to venture there alone during the day.

The horror experience we encountered that night was a stark reminder that sometimes, reality can be stranger and more terrifying than any ghost story. It shook our beliefs and taught us to respect the unknown. The bridge remains a haunting memory, a constant reminder that forces beyond our comprehension lurk in the shadows, waiting to challenge our courage and question our understanding of the world.

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