Horror fiction: A locked room beckons Shalini, something haunts the mansion corridors at night

As the car wound its way up, one hairpin bend after another, my childhood carsickness resurfaced. Jai Singh was speeding in a way I was sure he would not have if Akshar was in the car. Better to be late, Mr Motorist, than the late Mr Motorist read a corny cautionary hoarding at one nasty bend, which I wished Jai Singh would heed.

My stomach and mind were both churning, somewhat harmoniously – anxieties, memories, hopes and the tea I drank at the railway station all jostling against each other till I felt so squeamish that I asked Jai Singh to stop. He braked so hard that I had to rush out of the car as the bile rose in my throat. After vomiting my guts out, I felt better.

There was a burnt, leafless pine tree right next to me – spindly, slimy and reptilian in appearance, which sent a chill down my spine. Had there been a fire here? But Jai Singh said the fire had happened near the station; he hadn’t mentioned one on the hills. Were there fires going unrecorded?

I picked up a pinecone that lay on the side of the road before returning to the car. There…

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