Chapter 1: The Move
Only a year ago, he’d set foot in Greater Noida, ready to begin his journey at Galgotias University. Sarcastic by nature, drawn to fun and adventure, Anay had quickly carved a space for himself amidst bustling corridors and sunlit quads. He joined clubs, made friends he could trust, and tackled both classes and co-curriculars with energy to spare.
But beneath the laughter and late-night study sessions, another story threaded through his days: Priya. The gentle buzz of his phone, the distant city lights of Lucknow glowing in her messages. Their long-distance relationship added an undercurrent of longing, a sweet ache that colored even the brightest afternoons.
As Anay’s first year got completed, He pleaded with his parents, hoping to trade the monotony of hostel life for the independence of a rented flat with friends. But tradition prevailed; his parents insisted on a PG near campus, a compromise between freedom and their peace of mind.
Not willing to surrender his dreams of camaraderie, Anay set out to convince his closest friends to join him in this new chapter. His enthusiasm was contagious, and after a few rounds of chai and earnest persuasion, they agreed. Together, they would embark on the next phase of their college journey—not in the solitude of hostel rooms, but side by side, under the roof of a new PG, where new stories were waiting to be written.
Anay’s search for new accommodation led him through the winding lanes of Greater Noida, his heart set on something more than just a roof above his head. It was on a sticky afternoon that he stumbled upon Gulmohar Riveria, a gated society framed by neatly trimmed hedges and the gentle chime of bells from a small temple beside the entrance. Beyond the gates, a sprawling park stretched out—a patchwork of green at the heart of the community, where children’s laughter mingled with the distant bark of strays.
Society was a curious blend of the old and the new. Rows of elegant bungalows lined the streets, interspersed among these were empty plots, wild and untamed, their grasses standing tall like silent sentinels guarding forgotten corners. It was in one such bungalow, unassuming yet full of promise, that Anay and his friends would find their home—a place soon to be filled with stories, laughter, and, perhaps, a few secrets better left undisturbed
The bungalow was a single-storied sprawl of simple comforts and unspoken secrets. It offered four modest rooms, a sunlit hallway where laughter often echoed, a compact kitchen forever tinged with the aroma of instant noodles, and two bathrooms whose taps sang at odd hours. The house also boasted a broad, flat rooftop—a sanctuary beneath the vast, starlit sky—and a generous parking lot large enough for two cars and the occasional huddle of friends sharing midnight stories. Every corner was furnished, every space ready: soft beds and sturdy study tables in each room, utensils stacked neatly in the kitchen, and shelves lined with odds and ends that bore testament to countless former tenants. This was not just a place to stay; it was, for Anay and his friends, a launching pad into independence, camaraderie, and all the adventures that awaited beyond its familiar doors.
Anay claimed the first room as his own, sharing it with Shivam. Their space, though compact, offered a curious advantage: two doors—one opening into the echoing hall, the other spilling out onto the car parking, which doubled as their breezy verandah. It suited Anay’s preference for both privacy and easy escapes.
In the next door, Saurav and Nitin made their den. This room, with its connecting bathroom and sprawling window ledge, became the scene of countless midnight conversations and impromptu plans.
In the third room resided Rahul and Ishaan—both fourth-year students. Next door, Harshit and Niranjan, also senior students, had staked their claim over the fourth room. The bungalow’s hallways echoed with the mingled voices and stories of fresh beginnings and seasoned tales, as the younger boys found themselves living alongside these veterans from another college, unsure what adventures—or misadventures—might unfold.
Shivam, a classmate from Anay’s own batch, was the first to move in with him. Saurav, familiar from their first-year hostel days, soon joined as well, bringing a sense of old camaraderie into the new house. Nitin, who had initially been just an acquaintance through a mutual friend, found his place among them, the threads of friendship quickly weaving tighter with each passing day.
The four friends crossed the threshold of their new PG with a sense of shared exhilaration. This wasn’t the regimented life of the hostel from their first year—here, freedom unfolded in unexpected ways. The presence of the fourth-year seniors lent a different flavor to their days: studies began to take a back seat as parties and late-night drinking sessions became the new norm. What had once been occasional indulgences now turned into regular rituals, as liberty and camaraderie mingled under the same roof.
The PG owner, a man of few words and fewer rules, rarely intruded on their lives. His only request was simple: keep the peace with the neighbors in the other bungalows. Within these broad boundaries, the friends discovered a world with minimal restrictions
The four months that followed unfolded in a blur of laughter and late nights, a whirlwind that seemed to sweep Anay and his friends further from the rigid boundaries of their first-year hostel lives. Parties erupted in the bungalow with easy regularity, the presence of their seniors—Rahul and his crew—adding a touch of unpredictability to every gathering. Rahul, ever the host, often invited more friends over for spontaneous sleepovers, the house echoing with shouts and laughter as they battled through endless rounds of dumb charades or risky games of truth or dare.
Some nights, a bonfire crackled in the parking lot, flickering shadows dancing across half-empty beer bottles as the group huddled close, voices low and conspiratorial. They shared stories that twisted and turned through the realms of the unnatural—ghosts, alien visitations, whispered legends, and the timeless mysteries of gods and monsters. The air would grow heavy with excitement and a hint of unease, the darkness outside pressing in on their circle of light. Horror fascinated Anay. He was the first to suggest a scary movie, often insisting on watching even when his friends declined, sometimes sitting alone in the blue glow of the screen, eyes wide and heart racing. Secretly, he nursed a wild wish: to one day cross paths with something beyond the ordinary, to have a real encounter with the supernatural.
Ink of Dread 
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