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An Asylum Of The Walking Dead


   I hail from Murshidabad in Bengal. My story begins during the wedding of my tutor, where I stayed for three days. A mental hospital stood ominously close to her house. She repeatedly warned me to disregard any unusual noises or occurrences, but one afternoon, I stepped out onto her balcony, shirtless.
Returning to the room, I fell asleep alone. Around 1 AM, a sound jolted me awake. In the dim moonlight, I saw a figure standing near my bed. The man's face was a grotesque mask of blood and scratches, and saliva dripped from his lips. I feigned sleep, terrified as he watched me with unsettling intensity.
Suddenly, he vanished. But a chilling sensation washed over me. I felt a presence behind me, breathing heavily and making guttural sounds. I was paralyzed with fear, unable to move. Desperate, I began chanting the Hanuman Chalisa, my voice trembling.
The morning call to prayer, the azan, finally broke the spell. The presence was gone. I immediately contacted my relatives and family, my blood running cold when they revealed the chilling history of the hospital: a place where thousands of tormented souls had met their demise.

*true story shared by a reader 

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