When Night At 3:35 Am. Horror Story

it merely a trick of the human mind? If nothing paranormal truly exists, then why are we so afraid of it? Fear usually has a basis, doesn’t it? Does the human mind simply create its own fears through imagination, or is there some unknown truth hidden behind it? Do we even have an answer to these questions? Or is this fear confined only to ancient beliefs and stories? As much as people are fascinated by the paranormal, perhaps they are even more captivated by the mystery and fear surrounding the unknown. Tahmid was a renowned journalist. A man who relied heavily on logic and reason, he hosted a television program called "The Paranormal and the Unexplained." Broadcast every night at midnight, the show's primary goal was to uncover the truth behind alleged supernatural events. Ironically, Tahmid himself never believed in ghosts or any kind of spirit. One day, he got into an argument with his colleague, Russell. Russell said, “Brother Tahmid, these supernatural things are real. I’ve seen them with my own eyes.” Tahmid laughed mockingly and replied, “What are you trying to say? That ghosts actually exist in this world?” “I can’t say whether they’re ghosts or not, but they are incorporeal.” Tahmid looked confused. “What kind of statement is that? Not ghosts, but incorporeal? What kind of logic is that?” Russell replied, “No, that’s not exactly what I meant.” “Then could you please stop buzzing in my ear for no reason?” Anger became visible on Russell’s face. “You may choose not to believe, but these things are real. I’ve witnessed them myself.” Tahmid responded with sarcasm, “Whatever it is you think you saw, only God knows.” Russell spoke in a frustrated tone, “But if these things were fake, my best friend wouldn’t have had to leave this world.” Tahmid interrupted him. “That friend of yours? The one who jumped off a rooftop?” “No, he didn’t jump. He was deliberately—” Tahmid cut him off before he could finish. “A ghost pushed him, right?” Russell raised his voice. “Yes, something like that.” Tahmid smiled faintly. “Your friend lost his job and jumped because of depression. People simply blamed it on a ghost.” Now Russell was genuinely angry. “The day something happens right in front of you, you’ll realize these aren’t just stories.” Even after Russell left, his words kept echoing in Tahmid’s mind. “I’m tired of dealing with such foolish people,” he thought. “I’m Tahmid. I’ll prove that ghosts do not exist. It’s all nothing more than a creation of the human mind.” The idea excited him. Then suddenly, he had an inspiration. “How can I prove it? Ah, I’ve got it. If I spend a night in a haunted house and record everything on camera, I can show people the truth.” He called several acquaintances and made some inquiries. He learned about an old house in a remote village, a place surrounded by countless rumors. According to the villagers, anyone who entered the house at night never returned. The house was said to be cursed. Hearing this only fueled Tahmid’s curiosity. He decided to spend a night there and record everything that happened. By the time Tahmid arrived at the village, the sun was setting. Fear was evident in the villagers’ eyes. They repeatedly begged him, “Son, don’t go into that house. You won’t come back.” Ignoring their warnings, Tahmid simply smiled and said, “We’ll find out tomorrow morning.” With that, he headed toward his destination. Standing in front of the house, Tahmid took a moment to observe it. Night had already fallen. Under the pale moonlight, the house looked even more mysterious. Old wooden doors, shattered windows, and spider webs covered every corner. The place felt utterly abandoned. Tahmid took out his camera and began recording. “This house is supposedly haunted. According to local rumors, strange things happen here at exactly 3:35 AM. Tonight, I’m going to find out whether those rumors are true.”

Tahmid pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was pitch dark, with only the beam of his flashlight illuminating the objects ahead. Dust covered the floor as if no one had set foot there for years. On the walls were insect-eaten wooden shelves, a broken chair, and a dusty mirror standing in one corner. Tahmid stopped in front of the mirror. He smiled at his reflection in the flashlight's glow. But in the next moment, his smile vanished. Beside his reflection, he saw another pair of eyes. Someone was standing behind him. He spun around instantly. No one was there. A chill ran through his chest. He tried to calm himself. "It's just my imagination," he told himself. It was 2:00 AM. Tahmid was writing in his diary when a cold breeze suddenly entered the room. Strangely, the window was closed. Then he heard footsteps coming from the corridor, as if someone was slowly approaching. Grabbing his flashlight, he stepped into the hallway. It was empty. Only the scent of dry leaves lingered in the air. Again, footsteps. This time, right behind him. As he turned around, his heart nearly stopped. At the far end of the corridor stood a woman. She wore a long white sari, and her hair hung in tangled strands. But her face was hidden, swallowed by an unnatural darkness. "Who are you?" Tahmid asked. The woman didn't answer. Instead, she raised her hand and pointed at something. Dried blood stained her fingers. Then, slowly, she vanished. Tahmid rushed back into the room. His breathing had become rapid and uneven. He immediately checked the camera footage. The woman was clearly visible on the recording. But in the video, blood was streaming from her eyes. Fear gripped him so intensely that his hands began to shake. Suddenly, his eyes fell on the clock. 3:35 AM. The room's light went out. Darkness swallowed everything except the faint glow of his flashlight. Then a voice echoed from behind him. "Why have you come here?" Tahmid turned around. The woman was standing directly in front of him. Her hair was wet, and deep cuts scarred her face. "Why have you come here?" she repeated. Tahmid tried to run. Panicked, he rushed toward the door. But when he tried to open it, he realized it was locked. As if someone had sealed it from the outside. He looked back. The woman was slowly walking toward him. "What is this? She's coming straight toward me. What do I do now?" he thought desperately. Perhaps incorporeal beings truly possessed the ability to read minds. Tahmid found proof of that when the woman suddenly stopped and said, "There is no way out anymore. Every path has been closed to you." Her cold voice sent shivers through the entire room. As she moved closer, she seemed to grow even more terrifying. Terrified, Tahmid shut his eyes. Time itself seemed to freeze. A few moments later, he gathered enough courage to open them again. But... There was nothing there. The apparition had disappeared. Yet Tahmid could feel that his body had become unnaturally cold, as though every ounce of strength had been drained from him. One by one, his senses began to fail. It felt as if an invisible force had taken complete control over him. And then... He remembered nothing. --- Tahmid awoke on a white hospital bed. His entire body felt exhausted, and an unsettling emptiness lingered inside his mind. The silence around him only added to his discomfort. Every time he opened his eyes, memories of that horrifying night returned. His diary lay beside him, still stained with blood. Those stains seemed to awaken the darkest corners of his thoughts. Standing beside him was the village caretaker. Deep concern filled the man's eyes, and his heavy sigh seemed to make the room even quieter. "I warned you before," the caretaker said in a grave voice. "But you didn't listen. That house isn't haunted by ghosts or jinn. It's cursed by Rupa." Tahmid closed his eyes for a moment. Then he asked, "Who is Rupa? What connection does she have to that house?" The caretaker hesitated. A look of uncertainty crossed his face before he finally spoke. "Rupa was the daughter of the house's owner. About twenty years ago, she was murdered on the night of her wedding." Tahmid shuddered. "But why? I saw her. She spoke to me. Is she...?" The caretaker fixed him with a sharp stare. "She's dead, but she never found peace. Since the night she was killed, her spirit has wandered through that house. Every night at exactly 3:35, her voice can be heard. Those who disturb her spirit never survive." Tahmid's throat went dry. "But I didn't do anything. I was only searching for the truth." The caretaker replied, "If you want the truth, you must also understand Rupa's suffering. Do you know her story?" Tahmid remained silent for a while. Countless questions swirled through his mind. Finally, he said, "Maybe I'll understand if you tell me her story." The caretaker pulled up a chair and sat down. His voice grew heavy, as though he were about to recount a tragic chapter of history. "Rupa was a sweet girl. Everyone in the village loved her. Her father was a wealthy landlord. On her wedding day, she was very happy. But that happiness didn't last. Her husband and his family murdered her because they wanted her father's property." A chill ran through Tahmid's body. "What happened after that?" The caretaker lowered his eyes. "They threw her body into the well behind the house. From that night onward, the house became cursed. Rupa's spirit has been waiting for justice ever since." Tahmid felt there was more to the story. Something deeper still remained hidden. --- 3:30 AM. Tahmid and the caretaker sat together in the main hall of the house. The caretaker handed him an amulet. "Keep this. It may help if danger comes." The air in the room suddenly grew heavy. The curtains began fluttering violently, despite there being no wind. Then a woman's voice echoed through the darkness. "Why are you in my room?" Tahmid turned around. Rupa stood before him. This time, her appearance was clear. Tears filled her eyes, and traces of blood stained her lips. Her presence seemed to chill the entire room. Gathering his courage, Tahmid asked, "What do you want? Why can't your spirit find peace?" Rupa whispered, "I want justice for my murder. My father... my mother... they never received justice." The caretaker suddenly shouted, "Tahmid, run! She'll take your life!" Rupa's eyes suddenly blazed like fire. The caretaker collapsed to the floor unconscious. Trembling, Tahmid said, "I'll tell everyone your story. You will get justice." A faint smile appeared on Rupa's lips. "Do you mean that?" Tahmid nodded. "Yes. I promise." Slowly, Rupa faded away and disappeared. After hearing her story, Tahmid made a solemn vow to ensure she received justice. Yet deep inside, a sense of unease remained. Rupa's curse was not merely waiting for the truth to be revealed—it was tied to a horrific past and the beliefs of an entire village.

The next morning, Tahmid stood before the villagers and told them everything that had happened. After hearing his story, everyone was left shocked and terrified. Yet, remembering the caretaker's warnings, they hesitated to unite and take action. An elderly villager stepped forward and said, "Son, you are truly brave. But be careful. Rupa's spirit is extremely powerful. If you fail to keep your promise to her, your life will be in danger as well." Tahmid replied firmly, "I promise that I will bring justice for Rupa's death. But I need your help. I can't do it alone." A few young villagers stepped forward to support him. One of them said, "We're with you. But how are we supposed to do this?" Tahmid remained silent for a moment, deep in thought. Then he said, "First, we need to inform the police. But the police alone won't be enough. Rupa's spirit still hasn't found peace. We must uncover the truth behind the events of the past." Together, Tahmid, the caretaker, and several villagers set out to search Rupa's father's old mansion and estate. There, they discovered a number of old documents. Among them was the final letter written by Rupa's father, in which he blamed Rupa's in-laws for her murder. The letter read: "I could not save my daughter, Rupa. They destroyed everything I had for the sake of property. My daughter's spirit will never find peace until justice is served." Taking the letter with them, they went to the police station. The police immediately reopened the investigation. During the investigation, an elderly member of Rupa's in-laws confessed that they had murdered Rupa and thrown her body into the well on the night of her wedding. However, property was not the only motive behind the crime. There were darker secrets hidden beneath the surface. That night, Tahmid returned to the house once again. This time, he was accompanied by police officers and several brave villagers. As the clock struck exactly 3:35 AM, a freezing wind swept through the house. Suddenly, the windowpanes began to rattle violently. Then a woman's voice echoed through the darkness. "Why have you come back?" Tahmid stepped forward and replied, "I've come to keep my promise, Rupa. The truth about your murder has been uncovered. Those responsible will be punished." Slowly, Rupa's spirit appeared before them. This time, her eyes held peace rather than anger. "Is it true?" she asked softly. "Will my parents finally receive justice?" Tahmid lowered his head respectfully. "Yes. I gave you my word. Your spirit can finally rest in peace." A gentle smile appeared on Rupa's face. "You kept your promise. I can finally find peace now. But remember one thing..." She paused. "The truth can never remain hidden forever." With those final words, Rupa's spirit slowly faded away. The room immediately felt normal again. Several months later, Rupa's murderers were convicted and punished by the court. The curse that had haunted the house for decades finally disappeared. The villagers began using the house once again, no longer afraid of it. On the final page of his diary, Tahmid wrote: "Rupa's spirit has finally found peace. I was able to uncover the truth. But this experience taught me that courage and patience are the most important qualities in the pursuit of justice." At last, Tahmid understood what his colleague had meant all along: "Not ghosts... but incorporeal beings."