Tag Archives: horror

Devil’s Caper

The devil lurking in the gray nights,
shadows of fear creeping in with disguise,
drooling vicious lips,
popping crimson eyes,
hollow sphere,
silence is eerie,

And in the mind caught in such demonism,
the soul holding on
to a hope of survival with meek eyes,
Will he survive?
Depends,
whether his heart can withstand
the wind longer than his frail trust

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah, ckonfab.com, and afflatuz.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

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Lost in the ​Atlantic Ocean

We all at some point in our life must have experienced the term “being lost”. Some on roads, few in life and others may be in their beloved eyes. But how many of you can claim to have lost in the ocean. If that sounds interesting let me borrow your undivided attention for the next 5 minutes.

I am always fascinated by yachts. The monohull, the deep single fin cutting like a keel, the shiny wood, the speed motor, the sail, everything about a yacht excites me. I always wanted to get a boat license. I actually passed the RTLM(Radio telephony inland maritime) exam, but couldn’t renew it. My next target is to buy a small boat. Let me save my fascination with the boat for a different post.

Coming back to my story, not too long ago one of my friends bought a boat. He was super excited about his boat and never missed any occasion not to talk about his boat experiences. Through him, I learned a lot about boats. Like how to dock a boat, the special boat fuel, the ropes, the beautiful stern, and the cozy cabin. He was ecstatic and proud of his possession and displayed his boat learnings in abundance.

One summer weekend he invited me to join him. The plan was to drive the boat in the bay, go to a waterside restaurant, enjoy good food and music, and sleep in the boat for the night. I was skeptical about his boat driving capabilities and he rested my anxiety when he mentioned his friend was joining us, who owned a boat for the over 20 years.

After hearing so much about his boat I was now looking forward to a great fun weekend. The day arrived. At first, we were three of us. My friend(the boat owner), his girlfriend (claimed to be riding boat since her childhood) and the least experience Me. 😊

Our veteran boat driver house was on the waters, close by from where the boat was docked. My friend has taken his boat enough to his house. The plan was for my friend to take the boat to our designated boat driver house and from there he would take control.

Everything happened as per the plan. We were soon joined by my friend’s boat driver friend and his wife. Crisscrossing the 2-5 mile wide bay we reached the restaurant within 30 minutes. The food was amazing and the music🎼 was awesome.  We had a really good time. At around 1:00 AM we decided to head back.

As we were walking to our boat, our designated driver phone📲 rang. Apparently, his 18-year-old son met with an episode and he left along with his wife in a whiff. We were stranded in the middle of nowhere with the boat and a few questions. I played safe and decided to rest in the boat cabin until the morning. My point was simple, let the morning arrive before we decide what to do with the boat. My friend’s girlfriend had a different plan. She claimed her entire life was spent on waters💦 and she knew enough about the place to navigate us safely back.  I was doubtful but my midnight thrill coupled with the renewed assurance given by the lady cultivated enough courage allowing me to take the plunge.

So around 1:30 AM in the night, the four of us,  my friend, the lady, me and the boat🚣‍♀️ started the adventure. It didn’t take us long to understand we were lost. It was pitch dark, not even a soul was visible. The lone boat light💡 was fighting hard to show us the way but was failing miserably. The confident lady looked lost the most. I learned two things that day

  • The boat GPS is not like the one we see on our smartphones. It is like a radar. No one amongst us knew how to read
  • The boat does not have breaks😱. We drove slowly to ensure we don’t hit anyone in the dark.

I wasn’t tensed but was sure worried😧, however, that thought diminished abruptly. For I saw a long strip of light, and when we looked with squinted eyes, we realized it was a ship!! Yes, you guessed it right, we had somehow left the bay and were approaching the ocean. For sometime none of us spoke and when reality hit us hard we panicked. I declared we were cast away. Then a thought came to my mind, what if I use my phone GPS. I opened the phone in haste. Fortunately, it was still catching signals. Sure, GPS didn’t show water paths but then we noticed about several miles away there were roads that the GPS could recognize. The lady finally was jubilant. Being a local she recognized the roads. Taking the phone GPS as a guiding light we reached our docking area by morning 5 AM.

Whenever we meet we laugh about this experience, scary for sure but we will treasure this for a lifetime.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah and ckonfab.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Muriel and Ghost

When the history dates back few hundred years, ghost stories were bound to happen. My day two in New Orleans was spent mostly working out of a conference room. The day was long but interesting and we ended the conference on time at 6:00 PM. We were all reconvening at the Muriel’s Restaurant for a team dinner. The place was few blocks down the street near Jackson square.

The restaurant was rumored for citing ghost. I was intrigued and ask one of the servers to provide his version of the truth. He was an eloquent speaker. We were a team of 40 spread across few tables. He drew the attention of the audience by clinking the fork to an empty wine glass and told us the tale(maybe tall tale😜)

The Dining Hall

The restaurant had an interesting history. The foundation of the restaurant was built 300 years back as a small cottage, which was sadly used to house transient slaves brought from Africa through the Mississippi River route before sending them to the Sugarcane fields. 27 years later the modest cottage was acquired by a man of great wealth and Power, Jean Baptiste. He tore it down and built a royal place for his family. The house was later purchased by a Frenchman, Pierre Phillips in the year 1776. He used it as a city home ( compare this to vacation houses we are used to now, away from the city 🏡🏖😀) for recreational activities when returning from the plantations located on the outskirts of the city.

In 1788, New Orleans burnt down on a Good Friday. 856 houses burned, including the house owned by Pierre. The place was this time was acquired by Pierre Antoine. Pierre rebuilt the house to original grandeur. He used the place for himself and for his family recreation. He was known for hosting lavish extravagant parties. Everything was going well except for one thing, Pierre was addicted to gambling. In 1814 he wagered his home to a game of poker and lost his most precious possession. Tragically, that evening he took his life, unable to reckon with the loss.

Many things had changed since then, expect the fact that Pierre Antoine never left. He stayed in the form of a spirit. He was known to trouble people who visited the restaurant by doing supernatural things like throwing off glasses, overturning table and blowing uncalled breeze. A seance was called to accost the spirit of Pierre. An agreement was eventually made with Pierre. He was given the room, where he took his life and in return, he was asked not to bother any occupants. Although at times he was seen breaching the decree.

After the second course of our meal, we took turns to visit the room where he took his life. The room was a small ten feet by ten feet closed room. The dark red dip shadows of light were giving a very different aura to the room. We took some pictures. One of my friends asked me to wait for the crowd to go so that we can take some pictures without anyone in the room. I sat royally on one of the sofas and took some smiling captures. We also took a couple of pictures of the empty room. Right after the photo session, we checked the pictures to see how they appeared. And then we noticed something starkly bizarre. Few captures were dark and black. The first visible picture of the empty room came out fine, but the immediate next one had the curtain rising. It was a closed room with no gust of air. It didn’t make any sense why the curtain raised. Scared? Sure we were and we left the room as swiftly as any human could do, treasuring the memories for a lifetime.

Me on Pierre Sofa😊

The entrance of the seance room

This is the second picture look at the raised curtain on the left

Click below if you have not read the first part

Adventure in New Orleans

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah and ckonfab.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Her Grit

The clouds were darker than usual,
Looming over like a lurking beast,
The winds howling loud,
As if ghosts were gathering for a festive feast.

The evening was quieter than before,
The birds chirping with unrest,
The animals looking for shelter,
Every being’s patience was on test.

And in the midst of such cacophony,
Where unrest souls were scurrying for life,
There existed one girl,
Who stood tall to fight and survive.

She braved the gale,
Faced the storm,
Her eyes staring trouble,
Refusing to fail.

The squall dwarfed,
The fear tarnished,
The wind blew gently,
The cloud gave path to the sun.

From that moment,
Everything else became minuscule,
The world witnessed the truth,
That grit could defy any trivial beliefs.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

The Dilapidated House

The dilapidated house,
Was never visited,
And the ruins screamed,
With a distinctive eerie,
Keeping all souls,
At a distance,
From any anticipated mishap,
That might crawl again,
From the inglorious past.

There were rumors,
Of a beautiful lass,
Who strolled the village,
With absolute class,
Though unseen,
Yet she was labeled,
The epitome of grace.

There remained a tall tale,
That one fine spring day,
About a gorgeous girl,
Walking into that famous cottage,
Ever since that time,
No one saw her signs again.

I gathered some courage,
And entered the neglected bungalow,
The pale moonlight,
came through the cracked windows,
And it glittered the balustrade,
Still hanging from the stair rails,
I looked around,
But all I could find,
Was the trace of her beautiful signs,
Looming on every corner,
Making her alive,
Like some time immemorial divine.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Hope Against Hope

The stern of the ship,
was at a 15 degrees tilt,
almost at a point to capsize.

Scare ridden passengers,
were in chaos and despair,
Everyone running for life,
everyone entwined,
In some torrid affair.

And in that hullabaloo,
And in the midst of the commotion,
few panic soul,
caught the captain’s sight.

They ran for help,
With hope-laden eyes,
To seek their survival chance,
And any scope of respite.

The captain knew,
The fate of the ship,
Yet he smiled,
And affirmatively said,
That everything will be alright.

The panic receded,
The anxiety waned,
And people bonded,
It was such a pleasing sight.

The riders joined the seamen,
The davits were lowered,
People worked with candor and displayed pride.

And as luck would have it,
The storm abated,
The ship stabilized,
The frail hope of the captain,
Brought the miraculous surprise.

When everything is lost,
Hope triumphs,
So believe in yourself,
It seldom fails and never let you deprive.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Climatic Blithe

The gladiator’s play was reaching its climatic blithe for the entrenched spectators. Such was the dreary sight where ruthlessness was more intense in the eyes of the watchers than in the fighters’ grit. There was blood, spread of gore and sheer carnage. While the fear was tamed but humanity died several deaths. Apocalypse was trailing the decimation of solicitude.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

The Haunted House

The dilapidated cottage was seldom visited,
So was the path that led to the house,
The odd sound kept jingling from the anklet,
And people fear constantly roused.

From immemorial times people narrated the tale,
about voices howling with a prolonged wail,
And they said the house had some dreadful history,
But no one knew for sure about its mystery.

Locals didn’t dare to wander the path,
For the house was burdened with the ghost’s wrath,
They claimed apparitions resided the place,
And it was scary enough for anyone to face.

So they kept away from the house,
The ruins of the place were only talked about,
The unruly bushes crowded the space,
despite all odds, the ghosts were nowhere to be traced.

Wish you all a happy spooky Halloween 😀 

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah