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

Hungry - The Horror Story By  Raghavendra Paramesh (JustUtter Reader) *  An imagination never unfolded, no resemblance with any true relevance. This story is purely fictional .  It was late, and I was exhausted from a grueling day of back-to-back meetings, endless discussions that led nowhere, and the usual blame games. When I entered the house, something felt off. The place was a mess—sweaty, dirty clothes were strewn everywhere. I didn’t care much about it, then I suddenly realized I hadn’t locked my car, so I peered through the window, hearing the faint "tink tink" of the remote as I locked it in the rain. I tossed my bag into the corner and let my body collapse onto the bed. After downing a glass of water, I grabbed my phone to check for messages. There was a missed call from my flatmate, Vijay. He’d gone to his hometown today, probably enjoying his parents’ care and home food. My eyes were heavy, and once I set my phone on the table, I fell into a deep, much-needed s...

It was a week after my father in law had passed away. I was sitting and prepping for lunch, while my son who was 4 years old, was playing right outside the kitchen, in the dining hall. My father in law's favorite and last grand kid was my son, and since he was born, he was always close to him. He used to sleep with him, play with him, go to market with him, was all the time on his bed, and even when he was unwell, he always wanted to see him sitting next to him watching him play from sunrise to sunset. Soon, I could hear my son talking to someone, and I rushed outside as there was no one home and my mother in law was off to a wedding ceremony in a close by village. He skipped and came closer and told me that "Jejebaapa, was playing with me and wanted to take me to the market", hearing which I was surprised as I saw no one. At first I thought he was bluffing, but then the next day, as I was coming out from the kitchen, I saw a hand touching my son's back from the dinin...

    It was a quiet evening, and the highway leading home was cloaked in an unsettling stillness. The road, lined with dense shadows from overhanging trees, stretched endlessly into the gloom of Bhubaneswar’s outskirts. Riding my bicycle with a bunch of bananas securely tied to the back seat, I couldn't shake the sensation that the silence wasn’t natural—it pressed down on me like a heavy blanket. I pedaled faster, eager to leave the oppressive quiet behind. But without warning, the banana bunch tumbled onto the street with a dull, fleshy thud. Annoyed, I stopped to secure it again. The knot was tight; there was no reason for it to have fallen. I chalked it up to chance and resumed my ride, though a faint prickle of unease crept up my spine. Not long after, the bananas fell again. This time, I felt a chill ripple through me, sharper than the evening breeze. It wasn’t the bananas that unsettled me, but the sensation that something unseen was tugging at them—a deliberate, malevol...

When my wife and I first moved into the apartment block in Singapore, we were drawn to its peculiar charm. It was a 17-story building, once owned by an affluent Malay family. But stepping into our new home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the charm came at a cost. The apartment was suffused with an old, oppressive aura, as though the past lingered in every corner. The antique furniture, beautifully crafted yet ominously weathered, seemed to hold secrets in its intricate carvings. The walls were painted in an unsettling combination of red and green floral patterns, their vibrant colors somehow discordant with the apartment's dim, heavy atmosphere. One room in particular stood out—the locked room. Our landlord was adamant that we not touch it or use anything from within. His vague warnings sent a chill through us, but we complied, leaving it undisturbed. Still, its presence loomed large, an unspoken specter that weighed on the entire apartment. As the days turned to nig...

The chilling wind howled outside, mirroring the storm raging within her. A few years ago, she had lost her father, a devastating blow that had left an irreparable void in her life. As the eldest child, the weight of tradition had fallen upon her young shoulders. Despite the daunting task, she had dutifully performed the somber rituals, her heart heavy with grief. The initial days had been a blur of activity, a desperate attempt to distract herself from the pain. But as the initial shock subsided, the reality of her loss settled in. She found herself consumed by an overwhelming sense of sorrow, tears streaming down her face as she yearned for her father's comforting presence. One night, as she lay awake, a strange sensation washed over her. A gentle touch, a familiar warmth, and then a soft, reassuring voice. "You can manage things," it whispered, "You are my strong child. You must look after everything carefully and make the right decisions." At firs...

 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...

I don't know how many of you still visit libraries, but I do it a lot. One such library was my grandfather's library in Buxibazar. It was a large office library filled with books from all over the world. This is a story of a little girl who lived inside a book and longed to escape. As I was browsing through the books, I heard a faint cry. I thought it was coming from outside. Then I saw a little girl in a floral frock standing near the door. I approached her, but she ran outside. I tried to call out to her, but she ran down the stairs and out the backyard. I returned to the library and saw the same girl peering out from behind a shelf. Startled, I tried to get closer to her, but she seemed reluctant and kept backing away. Slowly, she disappeared into a door leading to a dark storeroom. Hesitant to follow her further, I picked up a book and heard a loud cry. It felt as if someone small was standing right behind me. I tried to turn around, but couldn't. Eventually...