The First Blossom

A deathly silence hung over the narrow lane like a lingering shadow. Kusum clung tightly to her father’s little finger, as though it were the last thread of safety left in the world. They were returning from the village fair, the very fair she had relentlessly insisted on visiting. Now, however, she was beginning to regret it. Sometimes, she could be terribly stubborn, she thought.

Her little feet quickened to match her father’s long strides before she risked another glance behind her. Darkness spilled endlessly along the empty road, draped like a warning whispered by the night itself. And suddenly, the stories her great-grandmother used to tell came rushing back to her – stories of ghosts that ate the children who troubled their parents too much.

Kusum tightened her grip around her father’s finger.

“Are you scared, my little princess?”

Her father stopped beneath the dim wash of moonlight and crouched to her height. With quiet tenderness, he tucked away the loose strand of hair clinging to her cheek and searched her frightened eyes with a softness only a father could carry. A faint smile curved at his lips before he gathered her effortlessly into his arms, holding her close against his shoulder as though nothing in the world could ever reach her there.

Relief melted through Kusum all at once. Her tiny fists loosened against the fabric of his shirt, her eyes growing heavy with sleep. Wrapped safely in the warmth of her father’s embrace, she drifted off to the gentle rhythm of his footsteps beneath the silent night.

For the rest of the journey home, Kusum drifted in and out of sleep against the warmth of her father’s shoulder. The night around her blurred into soft, distant, dreamlike fragments. Through her half-closed eyes, she caught glimpses of familiar places slipping quietly past them.

First came the old village club, standing deserted beneath the sleepy night. Then appeared the ancient pond – still, black, and unsettling beneath the moonlight. No one bathed there anymore. In fact, no one even dared set foot upon the crumbling stone steps leading down to it. The elders often whispered stories about it in lowered voices, and even in her drowsy state, the sight of it sent a faint shiver through her.

And at last came the temple of Kali Maa.

The soft flicker of oil lamps glowed against the darkness like little stars trembling in devotion. Half-asleep against her father’s shoulder, Kusum offered a silent prayer in her heart, asking the goddess to keep her father safe until they reached home.

The last thing Kusum remembered was the familiar softness of her bed, the comforting scent of home wrapped around her like a blanket. And within moments, she slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep untouched by shadows or stories of the night.

Kusum jolted awake to the sound of her mother’s scream tearing through the darkness.

Disoriented and breathless, she pushed herself upright on the bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. For a moment, everything felt unreal. The room was still swallowed in darkness. When she turned toward the window, the night outside remained untouched, heavy and endless.

“Leave MEEEEE!”

Her mother’s voice cracked again, raw with terror and pain, and the sound sent an icy shiver racing through Kusum’s tiny body. Instinctively, she tried to leap out of bed, but something held her frozen in place. Fear, perhaps.

Then came other voices.

Rough. Angry. Unfamiliar.

Their words blurred together, but the violence in them was unmistakable.

“NOOOOOO!”

This time it was her father.

The agony in his scream shattered whatever had been holding her still. Kusum stumbled from the bed and rushed toward the door.

And then she saw it.

The world outside the door no longer looked like the place she had been knowing since childhood.

There’s blood everywhere.

Her mother’s body lay motionless in the yard beneath the dying moonlight. Most of her clothes had been torn away, leaving behind only bruises blooming dark across her skin. Her eyes, bloodshot and lifeless, stared into nothingness, carrying neither life nor recognition anymore, only the final shadow of pain and terror.

Kusum’s trembling fingers clutched the wooden doorframe so tightly they hurt. Her breathing grew uneven as her desperate eyes searched for her father.

THERE.

He stood a few feet away, one hand pressed desperately against his stomach where thick crimson blood spilled endlessly through his fingers, soaking the striped shirt Kusum had insisted he wear to the fair that evening. His face was battered beyond recognition, yet the grief in his eyes was far more unbearable than the blood. Tears slid silently down his bruised cheeks as he looked toward her mother with a helplessness that shattered something inside Kusum’s little heart.

Her legs gave way beneath her.

She collapsed at the doorstep.

Only then did she notice them.

Five men stood scattered across the yard, their faces hidden beneath black cloths, their silhouettes blending with the darkness like creatures born from it. Slowly, all of them turned toward her at once.

“Oh… isn’t that the daughter?”

Their laughter slithered through the night, cruel and inhuman, freezing the blood in her veins.

Then they began walking toward her.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Kusum wanted to run. She wanted to disappear into the night and never look back. But her body refused to obey her. Her feet felt impossibly heavy, as though fear itself had chained her to the ground.

The men were only steps away when suddenly her father lurched forward and placed himself between them and his daughter.

In his trembling hand gleamed a bloodstained cleaver Kusum had never seen before.

For one fleeting moment, he looked back at her.

His face was swollen, broken, almost unrecognizable beneath the blood and bruises. But his eyes… his eyes still held the same warmth, the same gentleness that had carried her home in his arms only hours ago.

HER FATHER.

And before he turned back to face the darkness, he gave her one final command.

“RUN.”

And run she did.

Kusum tore through the darkness with her tiny feet, stumbling through the backyard and into the sleeping night beyond. She ran without direction, without thought, driven only by terror. Branches clawed at her skin, stones cut into her bare feet, and her breath burned painfully in her chest, yet she did not stop. Somewhere behind her, she could still hear them.

They were following her.

The sound of their footsteps seemed to chase her through the night like hungry shadows.

By the time the temple of Kali Maa appeared before her, Kusum’s body was nearly collapsing from exhaustion. Her lungs ached, her legs trembled violently beneath her, and every breath felt like glass inside her chest. But the distant sound of approaching voices forced her forward.

Without wasting another second, she rushed inside the temple.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

The faint glow of dying oil lamps flickered against the towering face of Goddess Kali, making the shadows dance wildly across the stone walls. Kusum hurried behind the idol and curled herself into the smallest shape she could manage. Her body shook uncontrollably.

The silence inside the temple was terrifying.

So terrifying that even her trembling breaths sounded unbearably loud to her own ears.

“Where’s that little bitch?”

“Find her.”

Kusum pressed both palms tightly over her mouth, terrified that even the sound of her breathing would betray her.

“Maa…”

Her silent prayer broke apart inside her chest.

“Please help me…”

She had never prayed so desperately before.

Time lost all meaning after that. Minutes, perhaps hours – she could no longer tell. The voices outside slowly faded until nothing remained except the hollow silence of the temple.

For one fragile moment, Kusum thought she had survived.

Then suddenly……

Two rough hands seized her from behind the idol and dragged her out into the open.

A scream ripped through her throat.

Her terrified eyes flew toward the face of Goddess Kali towering above her, and she prayed harder than she ever had in her life, as though faith alone could save her now.

By then, her frock had already been torn apart.

Those filthy hands crawled across her bruised skin while she struggled helplessly beneath them.

“Did you find that bitch?” a voice shouted from outside the temple.

The man gripping her loosened his hold for a split second as he turned toward the entrance to answer.

And that moment was enough.

Summoning every last fragment of strength left inside her small body, Kusum sank her teeth into his hand as hard as she could.

The man’s agonized scream echoed violently through the temple.

For the first time that night, a tiny spark of satisfaction flickered through Kusum’s terror-stricken heart.

Before he could recover, she twisted free from his grip and bolted.

The men outside barely had time to react before Kusum darted past them like a frightened animal fleeing death itself. She did not know where she was running anymore. She only knew she had to escape.

The night blurred around her.

The pounding footsteps behind her grew louder.

And then, before fear could let her think twice, Kusum threw herself forward.

“Sploosh!”

The freezing waters of the ancient pond swallowed her whole.

The men stopped at the stone steps leading down toward the black water. None of them dared to move any closer. Fear flickered visibly across their faces as they stared into the unnaturally still pond beneath the sky.

“That bitch will die anyway,” one of them muttered uneasily.

“Let’s leave before the villagers come back.”

And one by one, the shadows disappeared into the night, leaving the ancient pond silent once more.

_