JustUtter 2Min Horror Stories: A Horror Book Series "Bhoota Gappa"

ମୁଁ ଟ୍ରେନ୍ ଷ୍ଟେସନକୁ ଦୌଡ଼ି ଯାଇ ଶେଷ ଲୋକାଲ୍ କୁ ମୋ ଘରକୁ ସକାଳ 2:00 ରେ ଫେରିଲି, ଗ୍ରାହକଙ୍କ ସହ ଏକ ବୈଠକ ବୃଦ୍ଧି ପାଇଥିଲା। ଏହା ପ୍ରାଯ଼ତଃ ଏକ ଖାଲି ଟ୍ରେନ୍ ଥିଲା, ମୋ ଭଳି କିଛି ଯାତ୍ରୀ ବିଳମ୍ବିତ ରାତି ସିଫ୍ଟରୁ ଫେରୁଛନ୍ତି। ମୁମ୍ବାଇର ସବୁଠାରୁ ଭଲ ଅଂଶ ହେଉଛି ଏହା ଅତ୍ଯ଼ନ୍ତ ବିରଳ ଯେ ଆପଣ ସମସ୍ତେ ଏକୁଟିଆ ରହିବେ | ମୁଁ ମୋ ଷ୍ଟେସନକୁ ବାହାରିଲି, ଏବଂ ମୋ ଆପାର୍ଟମେଣ୍ଟ 15-20 ମିନିଟର ପାଦରେ ଥିବାରୁ ଚାଲିବାକୁ ଯୋଜନା କରୁଥିଲି। ବର୍ତ୍ତମାନ ଏହି ସମଯ଼ରେ ଷ୍ଟେସନଟି ପ୍ରାଯ଼ତଃ ଖାଲି ଥିଲା, ମୁଁ ବାହାରକୁ ପାଦ ପକେଇବା ମାତ୍ରେ, ମୁଁ ଏକ ଦୂରର ଚିତ୍କାର ଶୁଣିଲି, ଯାହା ମୋତେ ଚକିତ କରିଦେଇଥିଲା, କାରଣ ଏହା ଏକାସାଙ୍ଗରେ ଏକାଧିକ ମହିଳା ଚିତ୍କାର କରୁଥିବା ପରି ଅନୁଭବ କଲା, ମୁଁ ମୋର ସାହସ ସଂଗ୍ରହ କଲି ଏବଂ ଧୀରେ ଧୀରେ ଚାଲିଗଲି | ପ୍ରତିଦିନ ଷ୍ଟେସନରେ ମୁଁ ରାଧା ନାମକ ମୋର ଟ୍ରାନ୍ସଜେଣ୍ଡର ବନ୍ଧୁଙ୍କୁ ଭେଟିଥିଲି, ସେ ମୁମ୍ବାଇରେ ବର୍ଷା ସମଯ଼ରେ ମୋତେ ସାହାଯ୍ଯ଼ କରିଛନ୍ତି, ବିଦ୍ଯ଼ୁତ୍ ବିଭ୍ରାଟ, ମୁଁ ଯେତେବେଳେ ନୂଆ ଥିଲି ସେତେବେଳେ ଟିକେଟ୍ କାଉଣ୍ଟରକୁ ମୋର ରାସ୍ତା ଖୋଜିବାକୁ ଚେଷ୍ଟା କରୁଥିଲି, ଏବଂ ଏହା ଆମ ମଧ୍ଯ଼ରେ ଏକ ସଂଲଗ୍ନତା ସୃଷ୍ଟି କରିଥିଲା, ସେ ଆସି ମୋତେ ଏକ ଉଷ୍ମ ହସ ସହିତ ସ୍ୱାଗତ କରୁଥିଲେ, ଏବଂ ମୁଁ କାମ କରିବାକୁ ଯେତେ ବିଳମ୍ବ ହେଉନା କାହିଁକି, ମୁଁ ତାଙ୍କୁ 10 ଟଙ୍କାର ନୋ...

A creeping dread clings to me, a shadow not my own, a phantom limb of a forgotten past. It’s not simply following; it’s burrowing into me. I feel its phantom nails raking across my skin, a constant, agonizing itch that no amount of scratching can relieve. It shoves, not with force, but with insidious pressure, a relentless push against my sanity. It’s as if it’s trying to bore through me, to create hollow spaces inside where only its presence can reside. The pain is a constant, gnawing companion. When I try to speak, to beg for understanding, a searing lance of agony pierces my eye, blinding me momentarily. Then comes the whispering campaign, the insidious lies it weaves about me, twisting my past into a monstrous caricature. It whispers that I once pushed someone, a single act twisted into a lifetime of malice. Now, this… thing has returned to repay the debt, to push back, to pinch and torment until I’m a broken husk. It doesn’t just follow; it invades. It drowns me in my ...

    Our adventure trip, a group of friends and I, began in a vehicle unlike any other – mine. This marvel of engineering could be both pulled and pushed, adapting to the demands of the terrain. It resembled a monstrous GMC Hummer EV Edition, boasting a staggering 1000 horsepower and a mind-boggling 11,500 lb-ft of torque. Our destination: a remote, ancient village nestled on the fringes of the Bengal border. The journey was a nightmare from the outset. The roads, mere tracks through shifting sand dunes, twisted and turned like a labyrinth as we penetrated the village. The inhabitants, diminutive and unsettling with their pointed teeth, watched our arrival with palpable hostility. Then, disaster struck. One of them, with a chilling ferocity, bit our beloved dog, Toby, inflicting a gruesome wound. Panic seized us. Dr. Dev Kumar, the village veterinarian, resided in a dilapidated cottage at the maze's end. We had to reach him. As we pressed on, the sky turned an omino...

 It was a summer night, and I was visiting my relative's place in Bargarh. I was sleeping outside on a wooden cot, near their farmland. At midnight, I heard something and got up to find smoke coming from the neighboring house. I ran and knocked on their door, thinking they might have left something burning. When they didn't respond, I called my cousin who was sleeping indoors and informed him that if the fire spread, it might also burn their place. He gave me an odd look and told me to go back to sleep, insisting that it wasn't possible. I persisted, however, and finally convinced him to accompany me to their neighbor's place. When we arrived, the smoke had cleared, and a sleepy lady answered the door. When she heard about the smoke, she explained that her husband had recently died in a fire accident. His ashes, still in the backyard, sometimes emitted smoke because he had died from smoke inhalation. After hearing her story, I couldn't help but admire her resilience...

ଜଷ୍ଟଉଟରର ସର୍ବପ୍ରଥମେ ମୁକ୍ତିଲାଭ କରିଥିବା ଭୟଙ୍କର ପୁସ୍ତକ "Bhoota Gappa" ର ଲେଖକଙ୍କ ସହ ଏକ ସାକ୍ଷାତକାର | ଏହି ସାକ୍ଷାତକାର କେବଳ ପାଠକମାନଙ୍କୁ ଏହି ଭୟାନକ କାହାଣୀର ଉତ୍ପତ୍ତି ଏବଂ ପ୍ରେରଣା ବିଷୟରେ ଅଧିକ ଜଣାଇବ ନାହିଁ ବରଂ ଭିତର ପ୍ରାଣର ଭୟ ଏବଂ ନିର୍ଦ୍ଦୟତାର ଚ୍ୟାଲେଞ୍ଜ ମଧ୍ୟ ମୁଖ୍ୟ ଚରିତ୍ର "Azagka" ର କାହାଣୀକୁ ଖୋଲିବ | Available Now in both paperback and hardcover ଆପଣ "2minhorrorstories" କାହିଁକି ଲେଖିଲେ?  ମୋର ପିଲାଦିନରେ ଏକ ଅପରାହ୍ନର ରୀତିନୀତି ଭାବରେ, ମୋ ଜେଜେମା ’ଆମକୁ ପିଲାଦିନରୁ, ଯ youth ବନରୁ, ମଧ୍ୟମ ବୟସ ପର୍ଯ୍ୟନ୍ତ ଭୂତ, ଯାଦୁଗର ଏବଂ ଅଜ୍ଞାତ ଘଟଣା ବିଷୟରେ କାହାଣୀ ବର୍ଣ୍ଣନା କରୁଥିଲେ |  ସେହି କାହାଣୀଗୁଡିକ, ମୋତେ ସମାନ୍ତରାଳ ଆକାରର ଏକ କ୍ଷେତ୍ରକୁ ପ୍ରବେଶ କରିବାକୁ ସକ୍ଷମ କଲା, ଯାହାର ବାସ୍ତବତା ବାହାରେ କିଛି ଶକ୍ତି ଥିଲା | ଏହା ଏକ ଭୟର ଭାବନା ସୃଷ୍ଟି କଲା, କିନ୍ତୁ ସେହି ସମୟରେ ରୋମାଞ୍ଚକ କିଛି ଦିନ ଧରି ରହିଲା, ମୋତେ ଏକ ଦୁ vent ସାହସିକ ପ୍ରାଣରେ ପରିଣତ କଲା ଯାହା ମୋର ଉଦ୍ଦେଶ୍ୟକୁ ଭୟଭୀତ ହେବାରୁ ଠେଲି ଦେଲା ଏବଂ ଏହିପରି ମୋର ଭିତର ଭୟକୁ ଅତିକ୍ରମ କଲା | "2 ମିନି ଭୟଙ୍କର କାହାଣୀ", ମୋର ଜନ୍ମ ରାଜ୍ୟ ଓଡ଼ିଶା ତଥା ଭାରତର ବିଭିନ୍ନ ସ୍ଥାନରେ ଘଟିଥିବା ସମାନ ...

I had lost my way while returning from my friend's place in Jatani, Odisha. I took a less-maintained, muddy road, riding my bicycle. I could see an old, tall banyan tree in the distance. As I approached, I noticed a rope hanging with an empty loop, swinging vigorously as if someone had recently been using it. The tree's branches were very thick and bushy. As it was nearly sunset, the darkness was playing tricks on my eyes. I occasionally thought I saw faces in the branches, but dismissed them as illusions created by the light. Suddenly, I felt as if someone was grabbing me from behind. I couldn't see anyone, but the sensation was real. I started chanting holy mantras and quickened my pace. When I looked back, I saw someone hanging from the rope, their hair longer than usual, staring directly at me. Horrified, I lost control and started running. I saw a man covered in a dark shawl, standing and waving at me to come closer. As I approached, I realized they were just crows per...

I was 4 years old, living in Chintamaniswar, Bhubaneswar. One fine evening, we all had a ritual at the construction site of our future home. All my cousins, uncles, and aunts had come to our place. We were all playing outside when I ran straight to the nearby yard, filled with lots of mango trees and wild bushes called "amba tota" (botanical garden in Odia). We kept playing until sunset. But slowly, every kid returned except me. I had wandered into a dense fog amidst the mango trees. I was eventually found hugging a tree tightly, my hair unusually straight and my eyes rolled back. I was running a high fever and speaking incoherently. I was immediately taken home, and my dad called someone who could help expel evil spirits. They made a holy pyre called "Jhuna," whose smoke filled the room. As they spoke to the spirit within me, I suddenly spoke in a different voice, claiming to be a newlywed bride who had been attacked and raped by thugs while going to a movie with h...