Akash’s story, exclusively for Different Truths, follows a protagonist’s chilling unease as he faces disorientation, time warping, and reality blurring after a solitary study session.
The study session had ended on time today. However, what struck me as strange was that no one had attended except for me. Stepping out of the academy, I walked straight outside. My head was throbbing slightly. But suddenly, I noticed something unusual—this place didn’t resemble the surroundings of my academy.
Instead, I found myself standing on the main road in front of my father’s office. The golden hues of the setting sun cast an eerie glow, much like a winter breeze sending shivers down my spine. I stood there, puzzled, unable to decide what to do next.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. The time read 4:45 PM. Calling someone didn’t cross my mind. Instead, I opened the Where is My Train? App to check the train schedule. Since I commuted to Chandan Nagar for studies, my father’s office was in Adi Saptagram, and my home was in Magra, I searched for a train from Adi Saptagram instead of my usual route. The next train was scheduled for 6:48 PM—a long wait. What should I do until then?
As I stood there thinking, I noticed a familiar face in the distance—a junior from my school. He stood beside a woman, who seemed to be his mother. I walked up to them, but what I saw next sent a jolt through me. The boy—my junior—was smoking a cigarette. However, what truly shocked me was that he was no longer a “he.” The same face, but now with long hair and feminine mannerisms.
The woman beside him, presumably his mother, suddenly burst into eerie laughter. She sneered at me, saying, “What? Why are you staring like that? Did you think she was a boy?”
Startled, I turned to my junior, only to see him—or rather, her—exhaling a thick cloud of smoke directly at my face. Everything became hazy. Without thinking, I turned and ran. I stopped only when I reached my father’s office.
I was shaken. What was happening? I turned around to check, but they were gone, vanished into thin air.
Looking toward my father’s office, I suddenly saw someone who made my heart skip a beat—Kanaklata, my girlfriend. Overcome with relief, I wanted to run to her to embrace her. As I approached, I saw her engrossed in her phone. Then she looked up and said, “What are you thinking? That I’m Kanaklata? No! I’m not your Kanaklata, you idiot.”
I froze. What was she saying? Still, I asked, “Then who are you?”
She replied, “I’m Gauri. Don’t you recognise me?”
Gauri? Yes, I did have a friend named Gauri once. But she didn’t look like this. And yet, this girl was identical to Kanaklata.
We started talking—about so many things. But the more we talked, the more confused I became. Who was I speaking to? Kanaklata? Gauri?
Lost in conversation, we were interrupted by the ringing of a bicycle bell. Turning around, I saw someone I recognised; it was Gauri’s father. My mind spun. Had I been talking to Gauri all along?
Gauri’s father spoke, “Come, dear. I’ve come to take you home.” Then, looking at me, he said, “Thank you for looking after my daughter.”
There was something unsettling about his smile. A distorted expression of sorts. I took a step back and nodded my head unusually as a reply.
He nodded peculiarly, helped his daughter onto the bicycle, and pedaled away. I watched as the girl waved at me before fading into the distance.
I was alone now. Behind me was my father’s office; in front of me, the main road. Trying to make sense of the bizarre events, I instinctively checked my phone.
The time read 4:46 PM. Only a single minute had passed.
I felt a wave of unease crash over me. What is happening to me?
Trying to steady myself, I told myself not to panic. Standing here wouldn’t help. The best thing to do was to head toward the station and wait for my train. But then a question struck me—How do I get there? I had never travelled from this location before. The road was deserted. No vehicles, no people.
Just then, I saw my father’s car approaching. Relief flooded me. I waved. The car slowed to a stop, and my father said, “Get in, quickly! We don’t have much time.”
Without hesitation, I jumped in. My mother and brother were seated in the back. My father drove ahead, his face tense, as if he knew something was wrong.
As the car moved, the once unfamiliar roads now felt familiar. I sighed, almost relieved. But then, I noticed something disturbing—water levels were rising on the streets. The drains overflowed, flooding the roads. People appeared—many of them, as if they had emerged from nowhere. They seemed to drift with the water, their presence unnatural.
I gripped my seatbelt tightly.
Glancing at my father, I saw that he was unwavering, his grip firm on the wheel. The water kept rising. The people, if they could be called that, floated along with it.
Fishmongers’ baskets tumbled into the flooded streets, colliding with our car, creating a loud, unsettling noise.
I desperately tried to find a logical explanation.
The water had almost reached the car’s doors. Then, my father suddenly took a sharp turn.
We found ourselves on a different road, this one relatively dry. Moving forward, we reached a stretch where, in the distance, I saw something shimmering. It was approaching us rapidly. A blood-red glow illuminated it from above.
As it came closer, I realised—it was an enormous wave.
My father immediately tried to reverse the car. But before he could, the wave crashed over us.
I jolted awake, gasping for breath. My body was drenched in sweat, my heart pounding. It had been a dream. Just a dream.
The room was empty. The dim light from the window indicated that evening had set in. I grabbed a bottle of water and stepped outside for fresh air.
But what I saw next froze me to the core. The bottle slipped from my grasp.
I was standing in front of my father’s office instead of my home.
The time on my watch read 4:45 PM.
Jack’s afternoon nap usually doesn’t last long. But today, something must have happened, as he still hadn’t opened his door. Thinking this, Jack’s mother knocked and entered his room. Jack was lying on the bed. She walked up to him and was shocked.
Jack’s mother was a doctor, she knew the difference between a sleeping body and a dead one.
Picture design by Anumita Roy
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