Nobody Looks at the Old Tree After Sunset — Final Part

The smile outside the window did not disappear.

It remained there.

Motionless.

Watching.

For a moment, Rafi forgot how to breathe.

Rain hammered against the roof while lightning flashed across Chandrapur. Every flash revealed the same horrifying face beyond the glass.

Its body looked impossibly thin.

Its arms hung far below its knees.

And its mouth...

Its mouth stretched wider every time lightning illuminated the road.

Then suddenly—

The tapping stopped.

The smile remained.

And the figure vanished.

Not slowly.

Not naturally.

One second it stood outside the window.

The next second, it was gone.

Rafi stumbled backward.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

Then came another sound.

THUMP.

Something landed on the roof.

THUMP.

THUMP.

Heavy footsteps moved slowly above his room.

The ceiling creaked beneath the weight.

Then came the scratching.

Long.

Slow.

Patient.

As though something was dragging its nails across the wood directly above his head.

Rafi grabbed a flashlight and rushed into his grandmother's room.

She was already awake.

Sitting upright.

Praying.

But when she saw his face, her expression changed immediately.

"You looked at it."

It was not a question.

Rafi nodded.

For several seconds, his grandmother said nothing.

Then she whispered:

"It knows who you are now."

A chill ran through Rafi's body.

"What is it?" he asked.

The old woman looked toward the darkness outside.

Then she told him a story no outsider had ever heard.

More than a hundred years ago, before Chandrapur existed, a traveler arrived in this area during a violent storm.

Nobody knew where he came from.

Nobody knew his name.

The villagers believed he practiced black magic.

People blamed him whenever cattle died.

Whenever crops failed.

Whenever children became sick.

Eventually fear turned into hatred.

One night, the villagers dragged the traveler to the old tree.

They beat him.

Tied him to the roots.

And buried him alive beneath the earth.

As the soil covered his face, the traveler spoke a curse.

"If I cannot leave this place... neither will any of you."

The next morning, everyone involved in the execution was found dead.

Their bodies surrounded the tree.

Their eyes completely black.

From that day onward, strange things began happening.

People disappeared.

Voices whispered outside windows.

Shadows watched houses at night.

And every victim had one thing in common.

They had looked at the tree after sunset.

The scratching above the roof suddenly stopped.

The silence felt even worse.

Then—

A scream echoed through the village.

A terrible scream.

Not far away.

The old road.

Rafi and his grandmother rushed outside.

Lanterns lit one by one across Chandrapur.

Villagers emerged from their homes carrying sticks, knives, and flashlights.

Everyone had heard the scream.

Nobody wanted to go near the tree.

But everyone knew they had to.

Together, nearly twenty villagers walked toward the old road.

The storm had almost stopped.

Only distant thunder remained.

As they approached the tree, a foul smell filled the air.

Rotting flesh.

Something much worse.

Then somebody raised a lantern.

And the crowd froze.

Bodies.

Dozens of them.

Hanging from the branches.

Swinging gently in the wind.

Some looked decades old.

Others looked recent.

Among them hung Jalil.

His dead eyes stared directly toward the village.

A woman screamed.

Several villagers began crying.

Then something moved.

The bodies started twisting.

Slowly.

As if invisible hands were turning their heads.

Every corpse looked down at the crowd.

At once.

Then all lanterns went out.

Darkness swallowed everything.

People panicked.

Someone started running.

Others followed.

Screams filled the road.

But Rafi remained frozen.

Because he heard breathing.

Very close.

Directly behind him.

Slowly, he turned around.

And saw it.

The thing beneath the tree.

It was taller than any human.

Its skin looked gray and stretched tight across unnatural bones.

Its arms nearly touched the ground.

And its face...

Its face constantly changed.

One moment it looked like Jalil.

The next moment it looked like a child.

Then an old woman.

Then someone else.

Hundreds of faces.

All trapped inside one creature.

All silently screaming.

The monster smiled.

Then began walking toward him.

One step.

Two steps.

Three.

The ground shook beneath each movement.

Rafi wanted to run.

But fear had locked his body in place.

Then he remembered something his grandmother once told him.

"Evil survives because people fear it."

The creature fed on fear.

Every story.

Every rumor.

Every terrified glance.

For generations, the villagers had strengthened it.

Rafi closed his eyes.

The monster stopped moving.

When he opened them again, it was closer.

But he forced himself not to look away.

Not to run.

Not to fear.

The creature's smile weakened.

Its body flickered.

Like smoke in strong wind.

For the first time, it seemed uncertain.

Then Rafi stepped forward.

The creature screamed.

A horrifying sound unlike anything human.

The earth beneath the tree began cracking.

Roots burst through the soil.

The trunk split apart.

And suddenly—

The monster was dragged backward.

Its long arms clawed desperately at the ground.

Its screaming echoed across Chandrapur.

One final scream.

Then the tree swallowed it whole.

Silence returned.

The storm ended.

The darkness lifted.

And before everyone's eyes, the ancient tree began collapsing.

Its branches cracked.

Its trunk split apart.

Its roots rotted away.

Within minutes, nothing remained except broken wood and black soil.

The curse was over.

For the first time in generations, villagers walked past that road without fear.

Children played nearby.

Birds returned.

And Chandrapur finally knew peace.

But even today, old villagers tell visitors the same warning.

Not because the curse remains.

But because some lessons should never be forgotten.

Never look too long into darkness.

Because sometimes...

darkness looks back.

The End