The rain had been falling since afternoon, soaking the streets of the small town. Thunder rolled in the distance, and the river Ashnara overflowed quietly beside the park. Inside a dimly lit café near Ashnara Park, four men sat at a corner table, enjoying hot pakoras and steaming cups of tea.
The café wasn’t fancy—just a roadside shack with tin sheets rattling in the rain—but it was the only lively place in the sleepy town.
The four friends had grown close in a short span of time. Two were police officers newly posted here, one was the postmaster, and the last was a local businessman named Mr. Dash. All of them shared the same spirit: daring, outspoken, and unwilling to be cowed by small-town fears. That was probably why they bonded so quickly, despite meeting only three weeks ago.
The town itself was far from developed. Most people worked as farmers, while a handful were wealthy landlords. Others ran small businesses or worked as government employees in the hospital, post office, or primary school. Life moved slowly, with nature always watching over them. Yet, the people of the town whispered about shadows, curses, and houses no one dared to enter.
It was 5:45 p.m. The rain showed no sign of stopping. The four men had just finished another round of snacks when Mr. Dash leaned in suddenly, lowering his voice.
“Friends,” he asked, “have you ever heard of the Second Queen’s House?”
The others looked at him blankly.
“The what?” one of the police officers asked.
“The Second Queen’s House,” Dash repeated. “It’s across the river, away from the king’s old palace. Haven’t you heard the story?”
All three shook their heads.
Dash’s eyes gleamed. “I guessed so,” he said. “No one dares to talk about it. But since the rain has trapped us here, maybe it’s time you know the truth.”
The others urged him to continue, their curiosity outweighing the unease in the air. Dash sipped his tea, leaned back, and began the story of second queen's house.
“About 150 years ago,” Dash started, “this town was ruled by King Jitverma. He was powerful and ambitious. To strengthen his rule, he married a girl from the nearby tribal society—his second wife.
“The king wasn’t blinded by love. He had a plan. The tribal people were strong, almost beast-like in power, but they were innocent and simple. By marrying into their bloodline, he thought he could bind them to his kingdom, making them loyal allies in future wars.
“Everything went well at first. The king already had a first wife, a noblewoman, and together they had a newborn baby girl. Life in the palace seemed harmonious. But after a few months, the king noticed something strange. The second queen’s behavior grew… different. Secretive. Restless.
“Then the truth emerged. She was having an affair—with her former lover, who happened to be the commander of the royal court. He was also from the same tribal society. The king had trusted him blindly, never thinking betrayal could come from his closest circle. But the queen and her lover had darker plans. They weren’t just meeting in secret; they were plotting to kill the king and seize the throne.”
The rain outside seemed to pause for a moment, as if the storm itself was listening.
“One night,” Dash continued, “the king caught them in the royal garden. Ironically, that very spot is where this café now stands. The commander and the queen were whispering about their plan to kill the king’s family. The guards seized them instantly.
“The king’s rage was merciless. He ordered the commander’s arms and legs cut off before hanging his mutilated body on the top of the Second Queen’s palace. The commander died the next morning, his screams haunting the palace walls till his final breath.
“And the queen?” Dash’s voice dropped lower. “The king ordered her imprisoned in the Second Queen’s House—alone, without food or water. The guards sealed the doors. She was left to die.”
One of the police officers shook his head slowly. “That’s brutal.”
“But not the end,” Dash replied. “For nearly a month, she clung to life. Guards swore they heard her crying day and night. Even after her death, the wails continued. The sound of a woman weeping… sometimes begging… sometimes laughing.
“Since then, people claim her spirit never left that house. Even after 150 years, locals say they can hear her crying on stormy nights like this one. The house has collapsed, the walls are cracked, but no one dares to go near it after evening. To this day, it’s known as the most haunted place in this region.”
The café fell silent. The friends stared at Dash, their half-eaten snacks forgotten.
Finally, the postmaster laughed uneasily. “Come on, you don’t expect us to believe that, do you?”
Dash didn’t answer. He only raised his eyebrows.
One of the officers smirked. “Well, I think we should check it out. Haunted house or not, I don’t believe in ghosts.”
The others hesitated. The rain hammered against the tin roof. The idea of walking into a cursed, abandoned mansion at night was insane—but it was also irresistible. They were all brave by nature, and the lure of proving the legend false was too strong.
“Alright then,” the businessman said finally. “Tonight, ten o’clock. We meet at the gate of the Second Queen’s House.”
The others nodded, some more reluctantly than others. The pact was made.
They left the café one by one, each man walking into the storm with his own private thoughts. Fear lurked in their hearts, but so did excitement. None of them admitted it, but each wondered: What if the legend is true?
The river roared in the darkness. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the faraway outline of a broken, decaying house.
