Desi Horror Stories

Ragpicker

Shrey's legs had turned to lead. He wanted to do something, run away maybe, but he felt his body getting weightier, like it would not respond to the instructions of his brain. All he knew was one thing—he did not want to see the face of this man.

The ragpicker did not turn all the way. He had seen something valuable on the ground, for he suddenly lunged at it, picked it, and tossed it in the sack he was carrying on his back. That deed done, he turned ahead again and carried on with his strange walk.

Shrey found his breath again. This was just a harmless ragpicker, foraging through rubbish for his survival. He was also physically disabled. Shrey had no business getting afraid of such a man. It was not right. Inhaling hard, he continued to walk.

Till he came up to the spot where the ragpicker had stopped and picked up the object...

There was no object there now, but there was something left behind that was red and shiny. Blood. Clearly shining in the moonlight. What in the blazes had the ragpicker picked? What was in his bag?

Shrey stood upright again and a wave of relief swept over him. The ragpicker was gone! The path ahead was clear. Only for a second did his sudden disappearance surprise him, but then he smiled. He walked briskly now, almost running.

And then he heard it again, this time behind him, so close that he could feel the warm exhaled air on his shoulder—"Shrey Shrey Shrey Shrey Shrey... Shrey Shrey Shrey Shrey Shrey..."

Petrified, Shrey turned to look. There he was, the ragpicker, just over his shoulder, his face ten inches above him, looking down at him now with differently colored eyes—one sparkling like an emerald and the other a furious ruby. And on his cheek was an open wound, a blood sore of some ancient injury.

And on his lips was his name.

The ragpicker stooped suddenly, this time right next to Shrey's leg and picked something else from the floor—another bloodied bit of something—and tossed it in his sack. Then he picked something that was on Shrey's foot. And then he touched his arm and pulled something out of it, another bloodied bit. All the time chanting his name, he filled his bag with the bloodied goodies.

Just when the ragpicker was about to grab his throat and pull a bit from there, Shrey found his energy again. Screaming at the top of his lungs, and despite his aching muscles, he turned and ran. Ran like he never had before. And as he ran, tears flowed out of his eyes thinking of the bits of flesh that had been removed from his body.

Who in the name of hell was that guy?

Shrey only relaxed when he was in front of his bathroom mirror. He got naked in a hurry and checked his body. He examined every bit of it and then broke into an odd giggle. He was still whole. Whatever that was, whoever that was, he had not plucked out his flesh. Nothing had happened. It was only his bizarre imagination.

He went to bed with that happy thought, trying not to think of that horrendous man, and not to think of the phantom pains of his missing body parts, for he was whole. He snuggled in his quilt and drifted away to sleep.

It was in the middle of that peaceful sleep that he sensed a pair of fingers moving towards his throat. The fingers were curved like the talons of a predatory bird. He knew whom they belonged to, but he was paralyzed. He wanted to at least scream in the extreme terrified anticipation of what was going to happen, but he could not. He could not do anything either when he saw his throat being ripped off his body and dangling between those two fingers to the accompaniment of the chant, "Shrey Shrey Shrey Shrey Shrey... Shrey Shrey Shrey Shrey Shrey..."

And he knew he would wake up and be fine again, but why did it have to be so real in this moment? So real that he no longer knew which his reality was—the one now sleeping whole under his quilt or the one who was being pecked at by a disgusting ragpicker like a dying victim of a bird of carrion.

[Thanks, folks, for the love you have showered on Desi Horror Stories. Do take a look at my book Haunted with paranormal investigator Jay Alani, which narrates his real-life horror experiences in the most haunted places of India.]