A Shortcut Turned Nightmare

Richie responded dramatically, in a frustrated voice. "Oh, so first it was 'Finish 10 standard, then it'll be all fun,' then 'Finish 12 standard, then it'll be all fun,' and now 'Finish college, then it'll be fun.' When am I ever going to have fun, father?"

"Wheen father? Wheeeen?" Richie said dramatically while smacking the wall in fake frustration.

Richie's father was a short man with a clean-shaven round face and a slightly defined jawline, and he had short salt-and-pepper hair and a dark brown skin tone. He was dressed in dark grey pants and a white shirt, ready for work.

Richie's father responded with a playful smirk, "Alright, drama queen, enough with the theatrics. Come on, let's have some breakfast."

With a playful eye roll, Richie followed his father into the kitchen. The enticing aroma of freshly cooked parathas filled the air, accompanied by a bowl of creamy curd on the side. Richie devoured the hot parathas with sweet curd.

"take care of the house while I'm away and wash the dishes after you are done eating. I've left some money on your bed for lunch." Richie's father said before he left for work.

"Sure, father. I'll make sure to wreck the house and leave the dishes for you to wash, just as you instructed," Richie replied with a sweet smile.

Sound of the engine faded away, signalling his father's departure. Richie finished his breakfast and washed the dishes before taking a shower. Richie resembled his father, with a round face and defined jawline, but he was taller than his father, with skinny stature, light brown skin, and brown eyes framed by double eyelids, sporting a head of black hair.

Lost in his thoughts, Richie's eyes locked onto his reflection, only to be greeted by a chilling sight. Sinister strings from his dream emerged from the mirror, resembling grotesque tendrils of meat writhing and slithering towards him, their grotesque form causing his blood to run cold. As they made contact with his body, an icy tremor travelled down his spine, suffocating him in a suffocating grip of fear.

Fear gripped Richie's entire being, causing his legs to give out and sending him tumbling to the floor. The terrifying scene vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him shaken.

"Fuck shit, was I so terrified by that dream that I'm now hallucinating, or is there something seriously messed up with that goddamn haunted factory?" Richie muttered to himself, his mind filled with unease.

Shim, with his head of black hair, light grey eyes, and a handsome angular face, was sitting on a cot outside, just starting to have breakfast.

"Oh, look who's graced us with their presence after a night out, King, the mighty ruler who thinks we're all here to serve him and feed him for free," a man standing in worn out blue kurta pajama at the entrance of the room muttered under his breath, dripping with passive-aggression.

He paused mid-bite upon hearing his father's remark and quietly said to his mother, "I'm done, mom," he breathed, his voice laced with frustration. He then got up from the cot and made his way to the adjacent room, where his father stood. Their cramped living conditions had forced them to reside in a two-bedroom house with a shared kitchen, amplifying the tension that hung in the air.

"Oh, now he's upset," Shim's father remarked, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. He was a short man with a round, plump red face and a protruding belly. His thinning hair was white, and he had light brown eyes.

"Can't you let the poor boy eat something before you start bashing him with your words?" Shim's mother retorted, her voice laced with frustration. She glanced at her husband with a stern expression, silently challenging his harsh attitude. She was sitting in front of the mud stove cooking.

Shim's mother shared similar features with Shim, including a slightly wrinkled face that showed the passage of time. Her slender stature spoke of a body worn by years of experience. Looking at her, one could easily imagine the remarkable beauty she possessed during her younger days.

Sitting beside her mother, Shim's younger sister bore a striking resemblance. Her fair complexion, pretty face, and beautiful light brown eyes mirrored those of their mother. Her brown hair was neatly braided, cascading down her back. She wore a simple top adorned with delicate flower patterns, paired with plain white pajamas.

"His school is finished; he should stop playing around and start working, making things easier for us," he replied dismissively.

While most of his friends, including the trio, were eagerly preparing to start college in four months, come August, Shim found himself unable to join them. His family simply couldn't afford it, leaving him feeling left behind.

Shim's phone rang, and he saw Taran's name flashing on the screen. "What's up, Taran?" he answered.

Taran's voice came through excitedly. "Hey, Shim! We're playing cricket this afternoon on the big ground. Richie and Ravin are joining us, too."

Big ground was the name of the playground, having a cricket pitch where everyone from Dalwal goes to play cricket. It was called big ground because it was big.

"Count me in!" shim replied.

"You fuckers just ditched me?" Richie exclaimed angrily into his phone as he walked.

Ravin fired back defensively, "You weren't coming out, so we had no choice but to leave without you."

"I was taking a shit! Couldn't you assholes have fucking waited?" Richie snapped, his irritation escalating.

Taran impatiently interjected from the sidelines, "Quit bitching and fucking hurry up before we start playing without your sorry ass."

To reach there swiftly, Richie made up his mind to take a shortcut through the fields.

Walking through fields, he saw the haunted factory in the distance.

'What the fuck? How did I end up here? I was heading towards the big ground. This doesn't make any sense.' Richie's mind raced with fear and confusion. He looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The air grew heavy with an eerie stillness, and a sense of foreboding crept over him. As he stood near the haunted factory, he couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that something was terribly wrong. His heart pounded in his chest.

Fear gripped Richie's heart as he made a desperate attempt to escape the eerie vicinity. He sprinted with all his might in the opposite direction, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and the haunted factory. But, in the blink of an eye, his surroundings transformed, and he found himself involuntarily running towards the corroded and rusted gate of the desolate site.

"What the fuck is this Inception shit?" Richie blurted out, his mind reeling from the mind-boggling situation. Everything seemed to be playing out like some twisted movie plot, leaving him completely dumbfounded and questioning his sanity.

Barely stopping himself from colliding with the rusted gate, Richie abruptly changed direction, making a sharp turn in a desperate attempt to flee from the unsettling scene. His heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sprinted away.

"What... how...? Fuck?" Richie exclaimed, bewildered and unable to comprehend the inexplicable events unfolding before him. He found himself standing inside the factory once again, despite the fact that the gate had been locked. In his hand, he held the broken, rusted lock, the remnants of his own actions. Realisation struck him like a thunderbolt. "I... I pulled the lock," he muttered, his voice barely audible as he stared at the broken pieces in his trembling hand.

As Richie's gaze swept across the interior of the factory, he took in the sight of dusty machines and large rolls of wires, evidence of its abandoned state. However, his attention was drawn to a specific area in the far corner, where a room resembling the foreman's office stood. To his astonishment, he noticed a subtle movement within that room, something stirring in the darkness.

As panic surged through his mind, Richie's instincts screamed at him to flee, to run as fast as he could from the supervisor's office. But to his horror, his body betrayed him, moving against his will, drawing him closer to the mysterious room. "What's happening? Shit, let me go! Please, let me go! Help! Help!" he pleaded, his voice trembling with fear. Yet, his body continued its relentless march.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, Richie managed to regain control of his upper body, wrenching it free from the grip of the unknown entity. Desperate to anchor himself and resist the pull, he searched for something to hold on to, but there was nothing within reach. As his legs carried him closer to the supervisor's office, a surge of determination coursed through him. In a desperate act, he seized a shard of sharp metal from the ground, clutching it tightly in his hand, hoping it would provide some sense of protection in this bewildering ordeal.

As Richie approached the supervisor's office, his heart pounding in his chest, he caught sight of a humanoid figure standing inside. The figure was shrouded in darkness, its features obscured, but there was an unsettling movement across its skin. Despite his desperate attempts to resist, his legs continued to carry him closer to the office, dragging him towards the unknown.

Fear surged through Richie's veins, and he frantically reached out, trying to grasp onto the walls of the office, hoping to find something solid to anchor himself. His screams for help echoed through the empty space, but his pleas went unanswered, his efforts futile.

Finally, he managed to catch a glimpse inside the office, and what he saw sent a shudder of terror through his entire being. The humanoid figure was composed of thin, sinewy tendrils of meat pulsating and writhing across its form. There were no discernible features—no face, no eyes, no mouth—just a grotesque mass of shifting meat tendrils that seemed to move with a mind of their own.