Whispers Beneath the Backwaters - Footsteps Upstairs - Part 2

 The blood vanished.

One blink.

That was all it took.

Arjun stared at his fingers under the oil lamp. Nothing. No stain. No smell.

Only rainwater.

Devika grabbed Meenu tightly.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” she whispered.

Before Arjun could answer, another sound echoed from upstairs.

THUD.

Like something heavy dragging across the wooden floor.

Kuttappan rushed into the room holding a lantern. His hands trembled violently.

“You heard it too?” Arjun asked.

The old servant avoided looking upstairs.

“Nobody should go there at night.”

Another THUD.

This time followed by faint humming.

A lullaby.

Soft.

A woman singing to a child.

Meenu slowly smiled.

“That song… white aunty sings it.”

Devika’s face tightened immediately.

“What aunty? Meenu, stop saying that.”

But the little girl began humming the exact same tune.

Kuttappan dropped the lantern.

The flame almost died.

“Where did she learn that?” he whispered.

Arjun felt coldness crawl up his spine.

His mother used to sing that lullaby.

Nobody else knew it.

Nobody.

Suddenly the upstairs corridor exploded with running footsteps.

Fast.

Bare feet slamming across wood.

Arjun grabbed the lantern and rushed out despite Kuttappan shouting behind him.

“Moné! Don’t go!”

The upper corridor was darker than the rest of the house. Rainwater dripped from the ceiling beams. Old framed photographs leaned crookedly against the walls.

And at the far end…

The locked room stood open.

Just slightly.

A narrow black gap.

Arjun’s breathing slowed.

The lullaby continued from inside.

He walked closer.

Each step made the floor creak louder than the storm itself.

Then—

A small shadow rushed past him.

Tiny feet.

A child.

Arjun spun around.

Nobody there.

But he heard giggling.

Right beside his ear.

“Catch me…”

He froze.

The voice sounded exactly like Meenu.

Inside the room, something moved.

Arjun pushed the door slowly.

The smell hit first.

Rot.

Wet cloth.

Old medicine.

The room was covered in white sheets. Furniture stood untouched beneath thick dust. Water stains spread across the walls like dark veins.

And in the center…

A wooden cradle moved gently on its own.

Creeeak.

Creeeak.

Creeeak.

Arjun stepped backward.

The lullaby stopped instantly.

Silence.

Then the cradle moved harder.

Violently.

As if someone inside was struggling.

Arjun gathered courage and pulled away the hanging cloth over it.

Empty.

But beneath the cradle…

Fresh muddy footprints.

Tiny child footprints.

Leading toward the wall.

And stopping there.

As though the child had walked into it.

A whisper suddenly emerged from behind him.

“Why did you come back, Arjun?”

He turned so fast the lantern almost fell.

An old woman stood near the doorway.

Thin.

Grey-haired.

Eyes cloudy white.

Lakshmi Amma.

His father’s elder sister.

Everyone in the village believed she had lost her mind years ago.

But now she stared at him with terrifying calm.

“She waited for you,” Lakshmi Amma whispered.

“For twenty years… she waited.”

“Who?” Arjun demanded.

The old woman smiled slowly.

“The mother beneath the water.”

Suddenly every bulb in the corridor lit up together.

For one second Arjun saw it clearly behind Lakshmi Amma—

A tall woman in white standing upside down on the ceiling.

Wet hair hanging downward.

Smiling.

Then darkness returned.

Arjun stumbled backward in horror.

When the lantern steadied again…

Lakshmi Amma was gone.

Only wet footprints remained.

Leading deeper into the corridor.

And somewhere below the house…

A woman began crying.