Ria and her brother Adil loved exploring old places. One hot summer evening, they heard about an abandoned puppet theatre at the edge of their town. No one had visited it for years. Some people said it was cursed. Others said they heard strange music coming from inside at night.
That night, the sky was full of stars. Ria and Adil carried only a small torch and Ria’s phone. “Let’s be quick,” Ria whispered as they climbed the broken steps. The wooden doors of the theatre hung on rusty hinges. They pushed one door and it creaked open.
READ PREVIOUS UPDATE : Supernatural Story: Whispers of the Banyan
Inside, the air was thick and dusty. Ria swept the torch beam around. Old puppets lay on a long table: a clown with cracked paint, a king with a chipped crown, and a dancer with tangled strings. On the stage, a single lantern flickered—even though no one else was there.
Adil swallowed hard. “We didn’t bring extra batteries,” he said, voice shaking.
Ria turned on her phone light. “Let’s record a few seconds, then go.” She tapped the screen and held the phone out.
As the camera rolled, they heard a soft melody: tinny, like metal bells. It seemed to come from behind the stage curtains. Ria and Adil crept forward. The red velvet curtains were torn and stained. Beyond them stood an old puppet stand with one puppet still hanging: a boy with hollow eyes and a crooked smile.
Ria gasped. “He looks alive.”
Adil rubbed his arm. “I don’t like this, Ria.”
Suddenly, the lantern on the stage snapped off. The room plunged into darkness. Ria’s phone light quivered. The melody stopped.
A small, broken voice whispered from the darkness:
“Play with me… don’t leave me alone…”
Ria’s heart pounded. “Hello?” she called. “Who’s there?”
No answer. The silence pressed in. Then the curtains rustled as if someone moved behind them. Step by step, a thin hand pulled back a piece of velvet. A shadow showed for a moment—slender fingers, gray skin, one bright eye.
Adil grabbed Ria’s arm. “Let’s go!” he hissed.
Ria’s legs felt frozen. She watched the shadow vanish. Then, the voice came again, louder and sadder:
“I only want a friend…”
Ria knelt and whispered, “We’re here. What do you want?”
The lantern flicked back on by itself. Its flame danced, casting tall shadows on the walls. Ria and Adil saw the boy puppet, hanging at the center of the stage. But now his head turned slowly to look at them. His painted eyes were glossy, like real glass.
Adil stepped back. “He’s moving!”
The puppet’s mouth opened in a wooden grin. Then it winked with one eye.
Ria felt a cold breeze. The other puppets on the table began to twitch, their strings rattling. One by one, they lifted themselves upright.
Ria took a shaky breath. “Please,” she said softly, “we are your friends. Why are you here alone?”
The boy puppet’s head hung forward, like he was listening. Then he spoke, voice echoing like a wind chime:
“They left me… I cannot leave.”
The other puppets clicked and clacked, filling the room with low laughter. The lantern light flickered faster.
Adil grabbed Ria’s hand. “Let’s help him go home,” Ria whispered.
“How?” Adil asked, eyes wide.
Ria thought of the old stories her grandmother told: spirits sometimes need a name spoken to help them move on. She stepped toward the boy puppet. “What is your name?” she asked.
The puppet’s head twisted fully now. Its eye glowed faint blue. It whispered:
“My name… is Mannu.”
Ria nodded. “Mannu, I’m Ria. This is Adil. We will help you.”
Mannu tilted his head. The lantern steadied. The other puppets fell silent.
Ria remembered her grandmother’s words: “To set a spirit free, you must give it something it lost.” Mannu lost his home and friends when the theatre closed. She looked around and spotted a dusty music box on a shelf. It played a gentle tune when wound up.
Ria wound the key. The music box began to play a soft lullaby. Mannu’s wooden face brightened. The other puppets moved closer, as if listening.
The melody filled the theatre. Mannu’s strings glowed with soft light. He stepped forward, untangling his own strings from the stand.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Slowly, a pale mist rose from the stage floor. Mannu and the other puppets drifted into the mist, disappearing one by one. When the last puppet vanished, the lantern light grew warm and steady. The theatre was empty again, silent except for the music box.
Ria turned off the music box and set it on the stage. “Maybe future visitors will bring it to life for someone else,” she said quietly.
Adil shook his head in wonder. “That was… scary. And sad. But I’m glad we stayed.”
Ria smiled, squeezing his hand. “Me too.”
They climbed down the broken steps and stepped outside. The night air felt cool and fresh. The mist on the ground faded. In the sky, stars shone brighter.
Adil looked back at the dark theatre. “Do you think they’ll ever come back?”
Ria thought of the flicker of light in Mannu’s eye. “Maybe, when the music box plays again.”
They walked home under the starry sky, holding hands. Behind them, the old puppet theatre stood silent—its thousands of wooden hearts finally at peace.
