Deep inside a remote jungle, there stood a ruined hut that no villager dared to approach after sunset. They whispered it was cursed, haunted by the restless soul of a woman who died tragically within its walls.
One stormy evening, Arun, a smoke and decay. Still, he lit a lantern and tried to rest.
At midnight, he was woken by faint knocking on the walls. The lantern flickered and went out. In the darkness, he heard soft sobbing. Slowly, a shadow emerged—a woman in tattered clothes, her face half-burnt, her eyes
glowing red. She whispered, “Leave before it’s too late…”Terrified, Arun stumbled to the door, but it slammed shut on its own. The spirit screamed, shaking the hut. Somehow, he managed to break free and run until he collapsed in the village.
The next morning, villagers found him trembling, his body feverish. He warned them never to enter the hut. To this day, the haunted jungle hut remains untouched, its dark secret buri
ed inside.

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