Jyoti had been desperate ever since her husband Jatin died six months ago. The property papers for their shared home were missing, locked away somewhere none knew, or so she believed. She shared her problem with her friend Megha who had mentioned about bald exorcist named Victor who could commune with the dead and help her.
With her curves straining against a tight black dress that hugged her full saggy breasts and wide hips, Jyoti knocked on his dimly lit office door one rainy afternoon.
Victor, a squat man with a shiny bald head and piercing eyes opened the door.
"Come in, my dear. I sense unrest in your soul. What worries you, my dear", He led her to a cluttered room filled with candles and fake cult books.
"Can you connect with my husband Jatins soul, Victor? He died six months ago. The property papers are missing and only he knows where they are. I really need your help", Jyoti explained her plight as her voice started trembling with each sentence.
I have started something I am not even sure anyone would read. Now here we are. Me—still writing. You—still here. I’m not backed by fame or algorithms, just pure passion… and you. So if you’re reading this, thank you. Your support doesn’t just help—it builds this journey. And every share, every comment, every cheer? It’s another “Keep going.” And I will. For you to read. Comment your darkest desires to read in the story.
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