PRABINFO

She bid me farewell and waved. She did not say me a word, but it was what I realized her inner heart wanted to utter. She just kept smiling, standing at the edge of her front yard. I waved back, but said nothing, just as she did. Kanchi, as they called her, was a pretty little girl of 9. I met her in Bhumidada, a village situated in Karnali district. I was there, along with three other friends to collect different data of students from the village schools. All of us loved social works. With the motto of serving people, especially from remote villages, we had assembled together, back in 2005, to establish a social service organization. On my journey to Bhumidada, I was fed up with the hassles that had come into my way. But, as soon as I got there, I found it to be a picturesque place, so I helped myself take its photo saving it into my heart. The scenes had made an impression on me. Something more impressive was unnoticed in the villagers by me. Their hospitability was compelli...

The woods are even darker by night than they are by day. Shadows lurk among the trees, waiting for a foolish prey. No light, no peace can be found here, only fear and pain and everlasting darkness. Hellish screams fill the night, and the worst thing is, you are alone. In these woods there is a house. The house is old, built in the time of the now dead, and left by men to be haunted by the harsh wind, the shadows from the world beyond, and the cold breaths of times long past. You find yourself in front of this house, and the worst thing is, you are alone. As you enter the building, built of rotting wood and crumbling stone, the chill you feel is not from the cold. The once heavy curtains are now shreds of cloth, the glass windows no longer provide you with glimpses of the outside world, as dust and dirt have spoiled the view. What furniture there is left looks ready to fall apart, and you don’t dare touch it, afraid of what evil it will awaken. And the worst thing is, you are alone...