The Last Page
Written by Midnight Aura ✨.
Anjali was a quiet soul with a mind full of stories and a heart that belonged to the pages of books. Every time she found a free moment, she would wander into any nearby library—her escape from the noise of the world. The scent of old pages, the hushed whispers between shelves, and the soft rustle of turning paper gave her a comfort no place else could offer.
Little did she know, one day, she would pick up a book that never existed on any record.
A book with no title on the cover.
A book that had only one rule—never read the
Last page.
She furrowed her brows, puzzled by the strange rule scrawled across the inside cover:
"Never read the last page."
Why would someone write that? Anjali thought, glancing around the oddly dim corner of the library. Something about this place felt... off. The silence was too heavy, the air too still. But curiosity tugged at her stronger than fear. Maybe it’s an adventurous book, she convinced herself, and carefully opened the first page.
It began with the story of a girl named Aditi—a quiet, curious soul who shared Anjali’s deep love for reading. Aditi had a peculiar habit: she only read books that had no reviews, no ratings, no buzz. Forgotten books. Mysterious books.
Anjali’s eyes widened. She sounds just like me. The connection was instant. Drawn in by the uncanny similarities, she continued reading—unaware that with every word, the line between reader and story was beginning to blur.
As Anjali flipped to the next page, the words pulled at her heart.
> “I am a lonely person. My mother died in a car accident when I was just ten. My father buried himself in work to forget the pain… and forgot me along the way. I don’t have anyone. That’s why I love books. They don’t leave. They don’t forget. They become your only friends when the world turns its back.”
Anjali felt a lump in her throat. She ran her fingers softly over the page, feeling as if the sorrow in Aditi’s words had reached out and touched her. She could almost hear the pain behind those sentences—as if Aditi had whispered them aloud.
But then she noticed something odd.
There was no author name. No publication date. And now that she looked closer… the handwriting on the page wasn’t printed at all.
It was written by hand.
In ink that looked… fresh.
Anjali blinked in disbelief. She reread the lines, heart pounding.
> "My mother died in a car accident. My father is always busy. I don’t have anyone. That’s why I love books."
Her breath caught.
That wasn’t just Aditi’s story—it was hers.
Exactly hers.
Same loss. Same loneliness. Same escape into pages and paper.
“How is this possible?” she whispered, eyes wide with fear and confusion.
She flipped back to the first page.
No author. No title. No publication details. It was as if the book had just… appeared.
Suddenly, the ink on the next page shimmered faintly, like it had just been written. Her eyes darted to the fresh words forming right before her.
> "She’s reading now. She finally found me."
Anjali’s blood ran cold.
Her fingers trembled, but she couldn’t stop turning the page.
I don’t know why I’m writing this, but maybe it’ll help someone.
Take care of your friends.
I once got a call from my friend Preksha. She said, “Are you free today? Let’s meet.”
I said no.
I took her for granted.
She was coming to meet me… but got into an accident.
That day still haunts me. I regret it with every breath.
Suddenly, from nowhere, Aditi’s phone buzzed.
It was her friend—Preksha.
“Let’s meet.”
Aditi was about to say no.
But something stopped her.
The book.
She remembered what she had just read, how it matched her life so closely.
So instead, she said yes.
“I’m coming to your house,” Aditi said.
Preksha smiled through the phone. “Okay, see you soon.”
But just a few minutes later, Aditi saw the news—an accident had occurred near her house.
Her heart dropped.
But Preksha was safe.
And that’s when Aditi realized the truth.
Whatever is written in the book… happens in real life.
Aditi looked down at the book in her hands, her fingers trembling slightly. She noticed something she hadn’t before — there were five chapters.
She had just read Chapter One.
That meant... four more chapters were yet to happen.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Was her life already written out in this book?
Without wasting another second, she slipped the strange book into her bag and left the library. But instead of heading home, she turned toward Preksha’s house. After what had almost happened, she couldn’t bear to leave her friend alone.
She needed to be with her. To protect her.
To stop whatever the next tragic things to happend.
Aditi knew this was no ordinary book—this was something far more powerful, something beyond understanding. As she turned the page with trembling fingers, her eyes froze on the next line.
It read:
“This book will change your life... by taking the ones you love.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
Was it a warning? A curse? A prophecy?
She clutched the book tightly to her chest, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. If the first chapter came true, then this... this could mean losing everything.
But she couldn’t stop reading now.
She had to know what was coming—maybe, just maybe, she could change the ending.
The next line shook her to the core.
CHAPTER 2 : THE WARNING WITHIN
“Your best friend Pragati… she will die in an accident, while on a call with you.”
Aditi’s hands trembled. Her heart dropped.
Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes.
“No... No this can’t be real,” she whispered.
Her throat tightened, her breath caught.
She remembered the last time they talked—Pragati had called while driving, and Aditi, lost in her own thoughts, didn’t even think to warn her.
“Why didn’t I tell her to focus on the road?”
“Why did I let her talk to me then?”
The guilt came crashing down like waves.
“I’m a dumb girl who couldn’t even say one simple thing to keep her safe.”
She clutched the book tighter.
Was it too late? Or was there still time to change this page?
Aditi’s fingers trembled as she quickly dialed Pragati’s number. Her heart raced faster than ever before.
“Pick up… please pick up…” she whispered, almost begging.
The call connected.
“Hello?” Pragati answered, her voice cheerful. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Pragati! Where are you? Please… just go home right now. Don’t stop. Don’t talk. Just—please, go home,” Aditi said, her voice panicked.
“Okay, okay, calm down,” Pragati replied, confused. “I’m on my way. Just crossing the road near the signal. You tell me what happened—”
Suddenly, Aditi heard a deafening crash through the phone.
A loud screech of tires.
A scream.
Then… silence.
“Pragati?” Aditi gasped.
“Pragati, answer me!”
But there was nothing.
Just the empty hum of a disconnected call and Aditi’s sobs echoing in the quiet room.
Aditi sat frozen, her phone still pressed to her ear, even though the call had long gone silent.
Suddenly, a cold breeze swept through the room, though no window was open.
The book in her lap rustled.
Flip.
The page turned on its own.
Her eyes widened as she saw the words written in bold, red ink:
"You couldn't save her."
A chill ran down her spine.
“No… no…” she whispered, her hands shaking as she gripped the book. “I tried… I warned her…”
But the book didn’t care.
The words stared back at her, merciless and final.
And below it, another sentence slowly appeared as if being written right in front of her:
“Turn to the next page—someone else is waiting.”
CHAPTER 3
Aditi's breath caught in her throat as the next page turned.
“She raised you like her own. She gave you the warmth your mother left behind. And now…”
Her eyes trembled as she read the name written in delicate, cursive handwriting—almost lovingly.
“Jiya.”
“No, no… please,” Aditi whispered, tears already forming. “Not her. Anyone but her…”
Her heartbeat pounded like thunder in her chest. Memories of Jiya flooded her mind—feeding her when she forgot to eat, comforting her during storms, reading bedtime stories long after Aditi was too old for them.
The book continued:
“You have one hour. Save her… if you can.”
Suddenly, her phone lit up. Aunt Jiya calling.
Her hands trembled. She answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi Aditi, I’m just heading to the old bookstore near the highway—you know, the one your mom loved. I thought I’d surprise you with something.”
Aditi’s heart dropped.
That place was known for heavy traffic and blind turns.
She screamed into the phone, “Don’t go! Please, stop right now! Listen to me—go back home, please!”
“Aditi, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“No time—just trust me! Don’t go that way. Please, take another road, or just stay where you are. I’m coming to get you!”
Aditi didn’t even stop to think. She tossed the book on her bed and sprinted out of the house barefoot. The streets were rough and scattered with sharp stones, but she didn’t care. Pain seared through her feet with every step, but her heart screamed louder than her body.
Tears blurred her vision as she raced through the lanes, her only thought: "Save her. Save Jiya."
Every stone that tore into her skin was a whisper of her love. Every drop of blood was a promise that she wouldn’t let another loved one be taken away. Not like this. Not again.
She ran as if her life depended on it—because it did. Jiya was her life.
As she neared the old bookstore road, she could hear the blaring horns, the heavy rush of vehicles—and her aunt’s voice on the phone.
“I don’t know why you’re so panicked, sweetheart. I’m just at the turn now—"
Aditi screamed, "STOP! Don’t move another step! I'm here, I can see you!"
Jiya turned—just in time to see Aditi come running toward her, limping, bleeding… but alive and fighting.
When Aditi finally reached the place, breathless and barefoot, her feet bruised from the stones on the road, she saw her Aunt Jiya standing safely at the edge of the street. Relief washed over her like a wave.
"Aunty! Are you okay?" she asked, voice trembling.
Jiya smiled gently. "Yes, dear. I’m fine. But what’s wrong? You look panicked."
“I’ll tell you everything once we get home,” Aditi replied quickly, still catching her breath.
Just then, she heard someone calling her name.
She turned—and froze.
It was her friend Preaksha. But what was she doing here?
Preaksha smiled, walking toward her, stepping onto the road. Aditi’s eyes widened in horror—a truck was speeding right toward her.
“Preaksha! Don’t cross! Stop!” Aditi screamed.
But Preaksha didn’t hear her.
In the blink of an eye, the truck hit her.
Everything went still—except for Aditi’s screams.
Later, at home, tears streamed down her face as she stared at the cursed book. “You liar,” she whispered. “You said it would be my school friend Preaksha... not her!”
But as she looked closer, the pages had changed. The book now clearly stated: “Her school friend, Preaksha, died in an accident while Aditi was trying to save someone else.”
The guilt crushed her. She had misread the warning. And she had lost someone again.
When Aditi finally reached the place, breathless and barefoot, her feet bruised from the stones on the road, she saw her Aunt Jiya standing safely at the edge of the street. Relief washed over her like a wave.
"Aunty! Are you okay?" she asked, voice trembling.
Jiya smiled gently. "Yes, dear. I’m fine. But what’s wrong? You look panicked."
“I’ll tell you everything once we get home,” Aditi replied quickly, still catching her breath.
Just then, she heard someone calling her name.
She turned—and froze.
It was her friend Preaksha. But what was she doing here?
Preaksha smiled, walking toward her, stepping onto the road. Aditi’s eyes widened in horror—a truck was speeding right toward her.
“Preaksha! Don’t cross! Stop!” Aditi screamed.
But Preaksha didn’t hear her.
In the blink of an eye, the truck hit her.
Everything went still—except for Aditi’s screams.
Later, at home, tears streamed down her face as she stared at the cursed book. “You liar,” she whispered. “You said it would be my school friend Preaksha... not her!”
But as she looked closer, the pages had changed. The book now clearly stated: “Her school friend, Preaksha, died in an accident while Aditi was trying to save someone else.”
The guilt crushed her. She had misread the warning. And she had lost someone again.
Chapter 4 – The Blue Car
Aditi stood frozen, staring at the cursed book lying open on her bed. The words on the page blurred as tears welled up in her eyes.
“He will not reach home. A blue car. A sharp turn. A screech. Silence.”
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She looked at the time — her father was supposed to leave the office ten minutes ago. She had very little time.
“No,” she whispered, grabbing her phone and calling him. No answer.
She didn’t even wear shoes. She rushed out of the house, sprinting down the lane, her breath shallow and frantic.
Where does the accident happen? Where does the book mean?
She took a wild guess — a shortcut road her father always took, one that had a sharp turn near an abandoned building.
She ran through crowded streets, almost getting hit herself. Her legs were screaming, but her mind was louder.
“Just save him, just this once, please…”
As she reached the turn, her heart dropped.
She saw a blue car speeding down the road—fast, too fast.
And then… her father walking, just a few steps away from the corner.
“Papa!!” she screamed.
He turned, startled.
The blue car came around the bend.
Aditi didn’t think. She pushed him—hard—right out of the way.
And in that same second—
CRASH.
The car swerved, hitting the wall. Smoke. Screams.
She opened her eyes slowly, feeling blood on her lips. Her father lay beside her, conscious but hurt. Not badly. Alive.
She saved him.
But as people rushed over and pulled them both up, something caught her eye.
The book. Somehow, it lay open on the pavement near her.
The words had changed.
“Sometimes fate bends… but only once.”
Chapter 5: The Last Page
Aditi sat frozen, her fingers trembling as her eyes scanned the haunting words:
“Do not read the final chapter. It is the story of your death.”
Her heart thundered in her chest. A cold sweat formed on her brow. Her name—her death—written inside this cursed book? She couldn’t believe it. But after everything she had seen, she had to believe it.
Beneath the warning, another line emerged, inked in bold as if carved into the page:
“Those who break the rules of fate will suffer. One must never know the time or manner of their own death. Destiny punishes curiosity.”
Her instincts screamed to destroy the book—to burn it, to bury it, to forget it ever existed. But something stronger held her in place: fear... and the relentless pull of curiosity.
Was this the cost of trying to save the ones she loved?
Her thoughts tangled. She felt like a puppet in a game she never agreed to play.
“No,” she whispered, clenching her jaw. “I won’t read it. I don’t want to know. I want to live... even if I never know how long.”
With a deep breath, she forced the book shut.
But just as she turned away, a gust of wind swept through the room—though the windows were closed. The book flipped open again on its own.
And this time, the last page wasn’t blank.
Fresh ink began to write itself.
Letter by letter. Word by word.
---
This chapter you should not read.
These words were written in bold, blood-red ink at the top of the page. Aditi’s hands trembled as she turned to it, her heart pounding in her chest. But curiosity, fear, and the hunger for answers overpowered her. She kept reading.
“This time, no one can save you. You’re going to die—by hook or by crook. A car will hit you. I won’t tell you the color. I won’t tell you when. But it will happen.”
The words seemed to bleed into her mind, echoing louder than her own thoughts. She clutched the book tightly, realizing that she was no longer just a reader… she was the final character.
Her name was on the last page.
And this time, it wasn't a warning.
It was a promise.
---
After reading the last page, Aditi becomes paranoid. She avoids roads, cars, and even refuses to leave her home. But fate has its own way…
One day, while staying inside, she hears someone crying outside—a child. She peeks out and sees a little girl stuck in the middle of the road. A car is coming. Without thinking, Aditi rushes out and pushes the girl to safety.
The car speeds past, missing her.
She survived.
But when she returns home, the book is gone. Instead, a small note is on her bed:
> "Because you saved a life, destiny has spared yours. For now. But remember, the last page always turns."
---
Aditi thought it was over.
The book had vanished. The deaths had stopped. She had survived.
She tried to live a normal life — visited the places she used to go with her father, smiled at old photos of Aunt Jiya, and cried silently remembering Pragati. Her heart ached, but she told herself: "At least I survived."
But peace never stayed.
One by one… the others who had been close to her, who knew the story — began dying.
First, her classmate who once saw the book in her bag.
Then, her cousin who had touched it for a moment.
Even her therapist, who had listened to her story — found dead in a car crash.
It was as if the curse was not lifted — only delayed.
The book didn’t take just the reader — it hunted the survivors too. Those who escaped its pages became part of its next one.
One night, Aditi found herself staring at her reflection again. Pale, shaking. The wind whispered through her window. She turned around—
There it was.
The book.
Back on her table.
Its cover darker. Its pages heavier.
One final message:
> “You survived your chapter. But you forgot — every book needs a final sentence.”
As she reached to close it, the pages turned on their own — stopping at the last line:
> “She died thinking she was the end… but she was just the preface.”
A month later, in a quiet city library, a curious boy wandered into the deepest corner, where the dust was thick and time felt slower. He spotted an old book with no title, its cover cracked and worn.
Drawn by an invisible pull, he opened it.
The first line read:
> “Aditi was a girl who loved books. But the book she found… didn’t love her back.”
He chuckled, unaware of the cold breeze that whispered through the room.
He didn’t notice the lights flicker.
He didn’t see the librarian watching from the shadows.
He didn’t hear the page whisper his name.
But you do, don’t you?
Because now, you’re reading it too.
And just like Aditi, just like her.....
You shouldn’t have turned the last page.
THE END
