“Yo Shahmeer, you ready to go, yeah?”

Rubbing at his swollen pink nose furiously, Shahmeer let the familiar weight of the camera settle over his shoulder and forced himself to bite back a sigh.

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“Shahmeeeeeeeer.” A set of snapping fingers looming in his vision made him quickly let out a hum, letting out a quick relieved breath as the threat of a furious Parisa walked out of sight.

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Clutching his coat closer to himself, Shahmeer followed Parisa into the misty beyond of the night. Ever since their viewers had gotten tired of cheap jump scares and pranks, the bright idea of visiting actual on sight locations had popped into Parisa’s head and she had opted to drag him along as if he were merely her pack mule, overlooking his true worth as a cameraman.

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Glancing around, Shahmeer couldn’t help comparing the tendrils of mist to inky black tentacles wrapping around them like flies caught in a web. He had to suppress the shiver of disgust that ran up his spine. 

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Parisa’s snapping fingers made Shahmeer glance at her. Mist clouded her face and clung to her long coat and the night cast its shadow over her in such a way that she almost looked obscured. Surely, she did not think this was a good angle for the first shot. Admittedly, the village, their intended location, stretched out behind her like silent sentinels glaring their defiance at them but still-

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Another quick click of manicured nails made Shahmeer hoist his camera off his shoulders and signal Parisa to go.

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“Hello and Assalumoalaikum my wonderful screamers! Today, we are here to visit Sanjipur village, near the border of Kashmir. They say India bombed it about 20 years ago, and the spirits still linger. WoOoOoOooo-”

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CRACK

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Parisa whirled around and looked at…nothing. In the quiet of the night, everything remained unchanged except for the thunderous pounding of Shahmeer's heart, nearly overwhelming in its intensity. For her part, Parisa looked mildly annoyed at best and snapped at Shahmeer to do another take. He had to do so of course, but spent the rest of the time glancing around him uneasily. 

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They made their way into the village, with Shahmeer keeping his camera trained on Parisa as she continued talking to the camera without missing a single stride.

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“...So as you may know, during one of several attacks by our rival state this village was decimated by bombings…”

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The boarded-up windows, their weathered frames creaking faintly in the stillness, and the pervasive darkness that enveloped every building, was making him feel a palpable sense of foreboding.

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“...While there is no official documentation, it is estimated that about 200 people were killed…”

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Shahmeer grimaced and studiously decided to inspect the way his fingernails rested on the camera instead of listening. While Parisa had gone out to get manicures, Shahmeer had been stuck researching the village which Parisa had attained an “anonymous tip” about. The images he had found online post-bombing… 

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Perhaps it was Shahmeer figuring out that his nails were not interesting enough that allowed him to see it. He stopped, dead in his tracks, and Parisa trailed off raising an eyebrow at him. But Shahmeer didn’t care, he was angling his camera towards the gap in the streets. 

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“Shahmeer…our take? What are you looking at?” 

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A finger found its way to his lips almost absentmindedly. Thankfully, Parisa still respected him enough to quiet down and wiggle her way towards stepping in-front of the camera. 

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The viewfinder of the camera allowed him to zoom past the haze to see two men kneeling in-front of a circle. 

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“Do you hear what they’re saying?”

“Just whispers”

“Let’s get closer. Keep the camera on me.”

“What? Parisa, what are you doing? Parisa, no!”

Cursing under his breath, Shahmeer followed Parisa into the haze thinking about every horror movie where the characters obviously ignored the warning signs and died. Parisa strided infront of him with obvious purpose.

“Parisa, what if they are just two homeless guys? Would you just stop and listen-”

Just as suddenly, the oily blackness around him gave way to a clearing, almost like the calm in the eye of a storm. Parisa had frozen, rooted to the spot, as she stared at the two men infront of her. His eyes roamed on their own volition, etching the picture of what he was seeing into his brain permanently. 

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The men lay slumped forward, blood pooling into the space between them with it making almost a perfect circle. The cause of death (for they were surely dead) seemed unknown to his untrained eyes, yet that was the least of his worries. Etched all over the brick walls and the floor with white chalk were messages, scribbled furiously with long jagged lettering.

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WE SEE THEM

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THEY NEVER DIED

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THEY WALK AMONG US

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“Shahmeer…”

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Parisa’s voice snapped Shahmeer out of the almost trance-like state he had been floating in, and all of a sudden, nausea overtook his senses and  filled his throat until he felt like he was choking on it.

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“Shahmeer, if these people are dead, then who was the one whispering?”

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His head snapped up to look at Parisa, who for once, looked sickly pale. She had begun backing away slowly and as she stepped out of the unholy clearing and into the mist again, she disappeared. 

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“Parisa…?”

Fear clawed its way into his throat and grabbed him in its vice-like grip until all he could hear was the rushing of blood in his ears and all he could taste was the blood in his mouth. The mist seemed to close on around him, taking steps forward for every inch he stumbled backwards. Tendrils formed out of the shapeless abyss and seemed to shackle his wrists until he sat, kneeling on the ground. 

They say your life flashes before your eyes in your final moments. Yet, Shahmeer couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't accomplished enough. Here, in this forsaken village driven by someone blinded by ambitions of fame, oblivious to the lurking dangers, Shahmeer feared that his curiosity had been his undoing. He didn't want to face death like this. Not here. Not now.

Then, everything went black.