In the dead of midnight, all I could hear was the hooting of a night owl. The dark clouds drifted rapidly across the sky. My feet felt jammed in the ice-cold winds, which pierced through my woolen overcoat. Suddenly, I saw a figure. Couldn’t make out what it was, as the dense fog barred clear vision. The figure was moving in my direction. My prescience told me to run but I couldn’t move.

Staggering, I somehow reached the large banyan tree and hid behind it.

Several minutes passed, I heard nothing, I peeped out and saw no one. I had just begun to heave a sigh of relief, when the blood-chilling, awful truth struck me.

There I sat under the tree, face to face with the figure.

It smiled and I fainted.