After a whirlwind of festivities at a recent wedding, my wife and I decided to take a much-needed break and booked a charming stone cottage for a night at a tranquil hill station.
When we arrived at the cottage in the early afternoon, we were greeted by the breathtaking sight of a cluster of cottages nestled along the hill slopes. The road to the resort wound its way up the hill, ending at our destination—a secluded haven at the hilltop, overlooking the city below. The cottages, each made of sturdy stone blocks, exuded a rustic charm and promised a cozy retreat.
We chose this place not only for its tranquility but also for my long-standing desire to try astrophotography, as the area promised clear skies with minimal light pollution.
Upon arrival, we unpacked our bags and settled into our cottage. The room was simple yet inviting. The exhaustion from the wedding festivities soon overcame us. The comfortable bed and the gentle rustling of leaves outside quickly lulled us into a peaceful sleep.
We woke up late in the evening, refreshed and hungry. We learned from the cottage staff about a popular eatery in the nearby town that served delicious local cuisine. Eager to explore the town and grab a meal, we decided to take a walk. Before leaving, as my wife got ready, I set up my camera on a tripod, configuring the settings for a night of stargazing.
We walked over two miles to the town, crossing an international residential school and following narrow pathways that wound past its high walls. Along the way, we stumbled upon a small chapel with a warm light emanating from within. We stepped inside for a quick prayer, the calm ambiance contrasting with the cold night air outside.
We finally reached the eatery and savored a hearty meal that warmed us from the inside out. By the time we finished our meal, a thick fog had descended upon the town, and the shops were closing. We managed to buy some ice cream just before the last shop shut its shutters. Enjoying our treat, we began the long walk back to the cottage. The temperature dropped further, and the fog grew denser, wrapping the town in an eerie shroud.
As we reached our cottage, the weather took a turn for the worse. It started raining, dashing my hopes of capturing the night sky. Disappointed, we sat on the front porch, watching the rain pour down in sheets and the wind howl through the trees. With my photography plans thwarted, we retreated inside and soon fell into a deep sleep, lulled by the sound of the rain and occasional rumbles of thunder outside.
I awoke suddenly in the early hours of the morning. The rain had stopped, and an uncanny silence filled the air. Curious, I glanced at my watch; it was half past four. I quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake my wife, and opened the door. The transformation outside was startling. The sky was clear, the stars shone brightly, and the city lights below reflected off the moist ground, creating a breathtaking mirror effect.
Excited by this unexpected opportunity, I grabbed my camera and tripod and quietly left the cottage. As I wandered through the resort’s grounds, I realized the ambient lights were too bright for the kind of photos I wanted. I spotted a narrow path winding up the hill, above the rooftops of the cottages. Using my phone’s flashlight, I followed the path, which led further up into the woods.
The air grew colder, and the cottages below disappeared from view, replaced by dense shrubs and trees. As I continued, a black bungalow emerged to my left. It stood in stark contrast to the surrounding greenery, an under-construction building abandoned during the pandemic. The concrete structure, with its unfinished woodwork and large, empty window spaces, gave it a haunting appearance. The overgrown bushes and encroaching trees further isolated it from view, making it seem as though the building had been forgotten by time.
Determined to find a suitable spot for photography, I decided to explore the bungalow, hoping to access the terrace for a better vantage point. I climbed a short flight of steps to the entrance and shone my weak flashlight inside. The hall was vast, with a tall ceiling and a spiral staircase along the far wall, resembling the interior of a lighthouse.
A chill ran down my spine as an image of a white figure descending the stairs was projected by the dark recesses of my mind. Shaking off the unsettling thought, I pushed forward, curiosity outweighing my growing unease. To my right, a doorway led to a front room with a large window overlooking the pathway and the city far below. As I approached the room, I suddenly heard shuffling noises, like someone scratching against the sandy floor. I froze, my heart pounding, as the sound grew louder and more frantic, as if something—or someone—was moving within the room. My breath hitched, and I tightened my grip on the flashlight, peering into the darkness to locate the source of the noise.
Just as I was about to step back, something shot out of the room between my legs, brushing past me with a swift, startling movement. I stumbled, almost losing my balance, as a cold shiver ran down my spine. The figure, whatever it was, vanished into the darkness beyond the doorway, leaving me in stunned silence.
My flashlight beam darted around the room, but there was nothing—no signs of life, no indication of what had just bolted past me. The only thing that remained was the eerie scratching sound, now fading into the distance. My mind raced with possibilities. Was it an animal? A person? My heart pounded in my chest as I backed away from the doorway, my eyes darting around the dimly lit space.
The unsettling silence enveloped me once again, broken only by the distant rustling of leaves outside. I knew I should leave, that whatever had just happened was a fore warning. But a stubborn part of me couldn’t let go of the mystery.
Steeling myself, I cautiously entered the room and approached the window. The city lights below flickered, casting a faint glow into the room. Determined not to let my efforts go to waste, I set up my camera at the window’s edge, keyed in the settings, and prepared for a long exposure shot. I turned off my flashlight, relying on the faint red blink of the camera’s timer. The high-pitched sound of the auto-timer filled the room as I stood in the darkness, waiting. My attention shifted to the doorway, half-expecting to see something—or someone—standing there. The atmosphere grew heavier, charged with an indescribable tension. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, and an uncanny stillness settled over the bungalow. It was as if the very walls were watching me, waiting for my next move.
The camera’s shutter clicked, breaking the silence. I eagerly checked the screen, only to see a white background. The shot was overexposed. Frustrated, I quickly switched to my phone’s night mode and took a quick photo, which yielded better results. The eerie atmosphere and the unsettling encounter had been more than enough for one night. My heart raced as I gathered my things and made my way toward the exit.
As I stepped outside, a cold gust of wind hit me, and I felt a lingering presence behind me. Without looking back, I hurried down the path, my footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist, following me as I made my way back to the safety of the cottage. The unsettling encounter left me shaken, but it also left me with an unshakable feeling that something—or someone—was still watching from the darkness of that abandoned bungalow.