꓄ꃅꍟ ꌗꀤ꒒ꍟꈤ꓄ ꅏꀤ꓄ꈤꍟꌗꌗꍟꌗ by 🍪🎀 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓾𝓷 🎀🍪 at Inkitt

Summary

After moving into a new house, a boy spends most nights alone while his father works late. One winter night, he wakes at 1:30 a.m. to the sound of someone crying on the rooftop. Grabbing his phone’s flashlight, he climbs the stairs, the sobs growing louder — until they suddenly stop. A heavy bang echoes from above… and then the crying begins again, this time right behind him, whispering words no human should speak.

🩸 THE CRY ON THE ROOFTOP 🩸

"GOD CREATED US BUT, ARE WE THE ONLY ONE'S"

They say that when a person is overwhelmed with anger or anxiety, all the positivity drains away, leaving nothing but darkness inside. This… is a true story.

It happened in my own family, when we moved into the house my father had bought eight years ago. Back then, we used to live in a rented place near my school. My mother’s work kept her away for weeks, sometimes only visiting once or twice a month. Most of the time, it was just me and my father.

After my school days ended, we finally shifted into our new house. Life felt… good. My father left for the office every morning and returned in the evening. We rarely cooked — dinner was usually outside, since my mother wasn’t around and my father came home too tired to cook.

A month later, it happened.

I had coaching every morning from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. and returned home long before my father, who came back around 8 p.m. But that day, he called to say:

Dad (over the phone): “I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait for me — just order something.”

I ordered food from Swiggy, ate, and went to bed around 9 p.m.

At 1:30 a.m., my eyes snapped open. Something… woke me. I glanced at the clock. My father still wasn’t home. I was about to go back to sleep when—

A sound.

A soft, muffled crying.

It was coming from… the rooftop.

I froze. My chest tightened. My hands went cold.

Me (whispering to myself): “Who… the hell is crying at this hour?”

I grabbed my phone, switched on the flashlight, and slowly pushed open my bedroom door. The dim corridor stretched out in front of me like a black tunnel. I crept toward the main gate, the sound of sobbing growing clearer.

The staircase to the roof stood in shadows.

One step… two steps…

The crying turned into a low wail, long and drawn-out, like someone’s pain was tearing the night apart.

A trembling voice from above: “Help… me…”

I stopped breathing. My heart slammed against my ribs.

The beam from my flashlight trembled as I aimed it toward the rooftop.

The sobbing… stopped.

Dead silence.

I took another step upward. My foot creaked against the old wood.

And then—

A sudden BANG! from above, as if something heavy had dropped right in front of the rooftop door.

I staggered back.