“Woof, woof, Harry! Better hurry up; it’ll be time for lunch soon!” Sarim called out at his playful dog. The neighbourhood buzzed with the sounds of cars and children playing, just like any another busy day.

But something unusual caught Sarim’s attention. A ball rolled toward him, leading him to a block he hadn’t noticed before. It came to a stop at the foot of a large, brown wooden door, which appeared charred, as if it had been scorched by fire. Sarim felt a chill as he tightened his grip on Harry’s leash.

“Aaaaaa!” Sarim gasped, his eyes widening in fright. Not a single soul was in sight, except for him and Harry. The world around them seemed to freeze in an eerie silence. Suddenly, Harry began barking furiously, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. A shiver ran down Sarim’s spine.

“Quiet, Harry! Let’s go!” Sarim shouted, yanking the leash as they sprinted back toward the parking lot, their hearts pounding. Once home, Sarim rushed upstairs, drank some water and collapsed on the bed. Sarim couldn’t shake what he had seen. Was it real, or just a figment of his imagination? The thought haunted him.

Knock, knock…

“Come in,” Sarim murmured, still lost in his thoughts. His sister Amara entered, concern written on her face.

“Is everything okay, Sarim? You look terrified,” she said.

“Nothing is okay, Amara. I’m just … confused. Something strange happened,” Sarim replied, his voice shaking.

A moment of tense silence hung between them as Sarim gathered the courage to explain. He described the old, abandoned house and the way it was been burnt. It wasn’t something he could easily dismiss.

“Ah, I see, Sarim. Let’s both check out the place tomorrow!” Amara said, trying to lighten the mood.

That night, Sarim was restless in his sleep. The image of the strange house invaded his dreams. The next morning, despite his fears, Sarim and Amara decided to visit the house together. They had their breakfast in tense silence, preparing for whatever lay ahead.

Returning to the house was more daunting than Sarim had imagined. Yet, as they approached, they were met with an astonishing sight, the once charred and destroyed house now stood as if untouched by fire. Sarim’s heart raced. Could this really be happening?

As they entered, Sarim’s breath caught in his throat. Everything was normal. The furniture, the walls, none of it bore the marks of the horror he had seen. His fear deepened as he noticed something moving. A black shadow came across the room, heading straight for him. Sarim froze in terror.

“Run, Amara!” he yelled, but she stood there, confused, her eyes following the direction of his gaze. Before he could react, a sharp pain shot through Sarim, and everything went dark.

“Owww!” Sarim cried out. Everything suddenly brightened as he opened his eyes. His mother, father and sister were waking him up.

“Time to get up, Sarim! You’re going to be late for school!” his mother said with a gentle smile.

In the end, all Sarim had experienced was nothing more than a vivid, frightening dream, a terrifying one, fuelled by the horror movie he had watched against his better judgment.

The eerie scenes from the film had crept into his subconscious, weaving themselves into his restless sleep and transforming his night into a nightmare.

Waking up with a racing heart and a lingering sense of fear, Sarim realised he’d learned his lesson: horror movies were not meant to be watched by kids, especially at night. What had started as thrilling entertainment had turned into a sleepless ordeal, one he wouldn’t dare repeat.

Published in Dawn, Young World, October 19th, 2024