A Christmas Nightmare (Chapter 1)

A Christmas Nightmare: Join four friends on a snowy escape that turns into a chilling adventure, where every step in the eerie woods leads to a terrifying revelation.

Author’s Note: A Christmas Nightmare

Hey all, please note, this book is a spicy dark novel of a nightmare in a creepy old Villa in Mount Abu

A Christmas Nightmare

Wamika

“We should have reached when the sun was up,” I muttered for what felt like the thousandth time, pulling my jacket tighter around me and curling my legs beneath the shawl draped over my bare thighs. My breath fogged up the glass as I stared into the darkness outside. The winding road ahead was swallowed by shadows, broken only by the feeble reach of our car’s headlights.

Snow in Mount Abu? That was unheard of—until this year. When the first flakes began to fall, we couldn’t resist pulling over. What was supposed to be a quick stop spiraled into a three-hour detour filled with snowball fights and selfies against frost-draped trees. The air had been electric with laughter, our breath fogging up as we shouted and dodged icy missiles.

By the time we stumbled back into the car, our noses pink and fingers tingling, the roads had become an icy gauntlet. We stopped for spicy masala noodles with steaming chai, the heat from the cups burning into our frozen fingers. Then another break for ginger tea because, well, it was freezing.

Now, it was 10:00 PM, and our destination felt like it belonged to another lifetime. We should be close, but my phone’s battery was already dead, and no one was bothering to tell me when we’d reach.

“Chill. We’ll be there in another ten minutes,” Ritika said from the front seat, her tone threaded with the kind of patience you give a toddler throwing a tantrum. She glanced back to shoot me a glare, her eyes glinting under the soft glow of the dashboard before returning to the road. Samay sat quiet beside me, his fingers flying against the screen of his phone as he typed a message.

“We can’t even see the road,” I snapped, my nails tapping a restless rhythm against the car door.

“You can’t see,” Ritika corrected with an exaggerated eye roll. “Anshul can. Why don’t you close your eyes and stop spreading your panic virus to all of us? We all had fun. Don’t ruin it now. My gallery’s practically bursting with pictures of you and Anshul playing tag with snowballs. Don’t be a crybaby now.”

Her words hit like a slap, sharp and stinging, but I clamped my mouth shut. Samay chuckled beside me, boiling my blood more but I remained quiet.

Fine. Let them laugh. I leaned back, my fingers clutching my jacket as if it could shield me from the unease gnawing at my gut. The car’s interior buzzed with chatter and bursts of laughter, a flimsy bubble of normalcy I couldn’t bring myself to join. My gaze drifted back outside, where the forest loomed like a gathering storm.

The tires crunched over gravel as Anshul eased the car onto a narrower, more precarious path. We’d be close now. I was sure or I hoped so.

The forest seemed to close in, pine trees standing tall and silent as sentinels. Snowflakes swirled hypnotically in the headlights’ beams, a dance of fleeting beauty against the oppressive stillness.

“Finally!” Ritika groaned, tugging her scarf tighter around her neck. “I thought we’d never get here. Just five more minutes, guys, and we’d be at our destination.”

“You’re the one who kept insisting on chai breaks,” Samay retorted from beside me, nudging her seat with his knee. “If it weren’t for you, we’d have been here an hour ago.”

“Oh, please,” Ritika shot back, flipping her hair dramatically. “That was the last tea shop for miles. You’ll thank me when we’re freezing tonight and regretting life choices.”

Anshul chuckled as he downshifted to handle another sharp turn. “She’s got a point. Hot chai might’ve been the best decision today.”

Their banter bounced around the car, warm and familiar, but I stayed quiet. My gaze kept drifting to the thick trees lining the road, their shadows flickering unnervingly under the dim light. Every crunch of gravel beneath the tires sent a jolt through me. There was something about this place—the oppressive quiet, the way the cold seemed to seep into your bones, the sense that the forest was watching us—that left me uneasy.

“Wamika, what do you think?” Ritika’s teasing voice cut through my thoughts. She turned to look at me, her eyes dancing with mischief, her lips curling into a grin that made me instantly wary.

“About what?” I asked, feigning nonchalance as I straightened up.

“Our fancy, haunted Christmas getaway,” she said, wiggling her fingers theatrically. “Think Santa’s going to show up, or will it be some spooky ghost instead?”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed, forcing a laugh that felt thin even to my ears. “If it’s a ghost, I hope it haunts you first for dragging us all the way here.”

The car erupted in laughter, and even I managed a small smile. But my stomach churned. I wasn’t really joking. I had begged them to book something in the bustling heart of the hill station, but no—they wanted “something different” this year. I so bloody hated my friends sometimes.

“It’ll be fun,” Ritika had insisted weeks ago, her enthusiasm infectious. “A secluded villa, snow-covered hills, Christmas vibes. What could go wrong?”

Everything, I wanted to say now, as the car finally pulled into the long driveway of the villa. We had already got the keys and the caretaker had told us he would only come at the time of check out. He had stocked up the kitchen and prepped the house, giving us privacy for the next two days.

The headlights illuminated the structure ahead: a sprawling two-story house with sloping roofs, its windows dark and uninviting. The surrounding forest seemed to close in around it, the faint wind rustling the trees like a whispered warning.

“Here we are!” Anshul announced, killing the engine.

“About time,” Samay muttered, stretching as he opened his door. The icy air rushed in, biting at my face and making me shiver.

Ritika clapped her hands, grinning despite the cold. “Alright, everyone grab your stuff. Adventure awaits!”

I stepped out, my boots sinking into gravel coated with a thin sheen of frost. The villa stood tall and brooding, its shuttered windows resembling hollow eyes. The porch light flickered weakly, casting jittery shadows that seemed to move even when we didn’t.

I pulled my scarf tighter, wishing I could shake the strange heaviness settling over my chest. It wasn’t snowing, but the temperature had turned the water into ice, and icicles hung all around.

Then, as if drawn by some invisible string, my gaze shifted.

Nestled deeper in the woods, almost swallowed by the darkness, was another house. Smaller and far older, it stood hunched like a weary old man. Its wooden facade was cracked and peeling, the front porch sagging under decades of neglect. I saw a single window on the first floor, gleaming faintly, its inky blackness reflecting just enough light to make it feel alive.

Was no one staying here? What kind of place we had rented? Where we had creepy houses as neighbors. I gulped.

“Creepy,” I whispered, hugging my arms around myself. “What the hell is that?”

Samay followed my gaze, his brow furrowing. “Oh, that? Yeah, definitely haunted. Looks like the set of every low-budget horror film ever.”

“Maybe that’s where the ghost lives,” he added, smirking as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “You know, the one that’s going to haunt you tonight, Wamika.”

“Very funny,” I shot back, but my voice lacked its usual bite. I rolled my eyes, but the joke didn’t land. Not for me. My stomach churned as I stared at the sagging porch, the warped boards leaning like they might collapse if you so much as breathed on them.

“Wamika, you’re staring,” Ritika called out, her teasing tone cutting through my trance. She stood on the villa’s steps, hands on her hips, a playful grin plastered across her face. “Don’t tell me you’re scared already.”

“Of course not,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. I tore my eyes away from the other house, shaking off the icy grip it seemed to have on me. “It’s just… weird.”

“She’s scared!” Anshul declared, breaking into exaggerated ghostly moans. “Oooooh! Watch out, Wamika, the ghost of Christmas past is coming for you!”

Ritika and Samay joined in, their laughter echoing into the stillness of the night. My cheeks burned, but I forced a smile, not wanting them to see how much their teasing bothered me.

“Okay, okay, let’s get inside,” Samay said eventually, grabbing the bags from the car. “It’s freezing out here.”

I trailed after them, our rented adobe coming into sharper focus, making me pause. It wasn’t bad, actually. The bricks were weathered but sturdy, the porch wide enough for a small table and chairs. We could have our morning tea here. I thought.

Off to the side, a swing hung frozen in place, its chains glittering with frost. A bonfire pit sat in the clearing, surrounded by logs that looked ready for storytelling and marshmallow roasting.

It was picturesque, almost perfect. Yet the unease from the forest—and that house—lingered like a shadow that refused to dissipate.

“Come on, scaredy-cat,” Ritika called, already halfway up the steps to our villa. “Let’s get inside before you freeze to death.”

I tore my gaze away and followed, but the image of the crumbling house lingered in my mind. Its shadowed outline felt like a promise—a forewarning of something I couldn’t quite name yet but knew, deep down, was waiting.

Our friendship went way back—childhood memories of scraped knees, whispered secrets, and laughter that could bounce off walls. We four were inseparable, like the corners of a well-worn map. This trip wasn’t just another adventure; it was a tradition. Our parents had grudgingly given their blessings three years ago when we turned eighteen. Since then, Christmas had become our sacred ritual, our favorite season a backdrop to these stolen moments of freedom. Now, at twenty, this was our third trip.

But as I rubbed my freezing hands, I was starting to rethink that love for winter. The biting cold had found every gap in my layers, seeping into my bones. Winter in mornings was more inviting than in the dead of the night.

“Can’t wait to see how cozy this villa actually is,” Samay quipped, his voice muffled through his scarf.

“Yeah, if the caretaker didn’t stock up on blankets, we’re basically human icicles for the next two days,” I muttered, my words dripping with sarcasm. My friends laughed, but the truth was, I wasn’t joking. Winter had always been magical in my head, but now, with the forest pressing close and the cold tightening its grip, it felt more like a slow, creeping threat.

When we finally stepped inside the villa, the promise of warmth wrapped around us like a long-lost friend.

“Wow, it’s cozy.” I muttered.

“See the crackling fire. Just as the caretaker told us, everything is ready.”

The living room was a picture of rustic charm: a roaring fire crackled in the stone fireplace, throwing golden light over the plush couches and wooden coffee table. The scent of pinewood mingled with the faint aroma of cinnamon, making it feel like we’d stepped into a postcard.

“I’m starving,” Ritika declared, kicking off her boots as she flopped onto one of the couches. “And freezing.”

I headed straight for the kitchen. The fridge creaked as I opened it, revealing shelves stocked with supplies. “Finally, some good news,” I murmured, letting the cold air spill out as I scanned the contents. There was a burner, a microwave, and even an oven for baking. It was the kind of kitchen that whispered promises of warm, home-cooked meals.

Closing the fridge, I slipped my arm through Anshul’s as we moved further inside. He gave me a small smile, his touch steady and reassuring as we explored the rest of the villa. It wasn’t just the fridge that matched the photos—the entire place looked like a dream.

Anshul and I put our bags in the bedroom before strutting out.

“This is perfect!” Ritika shouted from the living room, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. She sprawled across the couch like she’d claimed it for the rest of her life. “I’m never leaving.”

“You won’t have to,” Anshul quipped. “We’re miles from anywhere. After I leave with my car, you will be stuck here. Even if you wanted to, good luck getting out.”

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered, my unease simmering beneath the surface. The isolation thrilled my friends, but it felt like a weight pressing on my chest.

Samay clapped his hands, his enthusiasm cutting through the chill like a hot blade. “Alright, people! Drinks and bag of snacks are ready. Let’s kick off this Christmas getaway with a game. Anshul, get the glasses and plates.”

“Truth or Dare!” Ritika shot up, her eyes glittering with mischief. She leaned forward, hands clasped like she was unveiling the best idea of the century. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Anshul left my hand and went to the kitchen.

“And humiliating,” I muttered, sinking into an armchair by the fire. The flames licked the logs, crackling softly, a comforting counterpoint to the chaos I knew was coming. “Count me out.”

“Oh no, you’re playing,” Ritika declared, pointing an accusing finger at me. Her grin was pure devilry, and I knew resistance was futile. “You need to loosen up, Wamika. Besides, it’s tradition. We always play truth and dare during Christmas.”

I sighed, the kind of long-suffering exhale only childhood friends could provoke. The warmth of the fire spread across my face as I leaned back, bracing myself for whatever chaos the night had in store. Samay was stocking the plates with snacks, and Anshul was pouring drinks. The villa seemed to hum with anticipation, the walls alive with the echoes of years past and the promise of the night ahead.

An hour later, the villa was filled with laughter and empty snack wrappers. The game was in full swing, and I had managed to avoid the worst dares so far. But my relief was short-lived.

“Alright, Ritika,” Anshul said, grinning wickedly. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare, obviously,” Ritika shot back, leaning forward eagerly.

Anshul’s grin widened. “I dare you to go to the old house across the road and knock on the door.”

The room fell silent. My heart began to race.

“Seriously?” Ritika asked, though she didn’t look scared. “That’s your dare? Piece of cake.”

“You have to do it alone,” Anshul added, his tone mocking. “And stay there for five minutes.”

Ritika’s confidence wavered for a split second, but she quickly masked it with a smirk. “Fine. Watch me.”

Ritika grabbed a flashlight, pulling her coat tighter around her. “Alright, I’m going!” she declared, a grin plastered across her face.

We shuffled to the main door, standing on the porch as she trotted toward the abandoned villa. The air was sharp with winter’s bite, and my breath clouded the space in front of me.

“You’re not really going, are you?” I blurted, my voice catching on the cold.

She turned, rolling her eyes with dramatic flair. “Oh, Wamika, relax. It’s just a house.”

I squinted at the hulking silhouette of the villa, its shadow looming over the frost-tipped hill like a threat. “It doesn’t feel like just a house.”

“Be back in five!” she shouted over her shoulder, the beam of her flashlight bouncing with each step.

“You’d better,” Anshul called out with a laugh. “Or we’ll send Wamika to rescue you.”

The joke landed, and everyone laughed—except me. My stomach churned as Ritika reached the porch and climbed the creaking steps. The flashlight beam wavered before settling, and then—nothing. No knock, no movement. Just the oppressive quiet of the forest around us.

“Maybe she chickened out,” Samay offered, though his voice wasn’t as steady as usual.

The seconds stretched painfully, each one clawing at my nerves. Then, faintly, the knock echoed, cutting through the heavy silence like a sharp breath. I leaned forward instinctively, straining my eyes, but the villa’s shadowy outline stayed impenetrable behind the trees. Just a few more seconds, I told myself. The dare was simple—knock and leave. No one lived in that decrepit place, right?

But nothing happened. Ritika’s silhouette stayed hidden.

The air around us seemed to thicken, pressing down on my chest. The laughter that had filled the porch moments ago evaporated, leaving behind a vacuum of uneasy quiet. Even Samay, who lived for cheap thrills, was staring at the villa, his usual smirk replaced by a frown.

“She should’ve been back by now,” I said, my voice cracking like the brittle winter air. My stomach twisted as the minutes dragged on. Five turned into ten, each one heavier than the last.

“Maybe she’s messing with us,” Samay offered, but his voice lacked its usual bravado.

I didn’t wait for a debate. My coat was already in my hand as I bolted for the door.

“Wamika, wait!” Anshul called, but his words barely registered.

Just as I reached the edge of the porch, Ritika’s shriek pierced the air like a firecracker. My heart slammed against my ribs. Whipping around, I saw her bounding towards us, flashlight flailing in one hand, her wild laughter echoing like a siren.

“You should’ve seen your face!” she cackled, doubling over as Samay and Anshul joined in, clutching their sides.

I froze, my body still caught in the throes of fight or flight. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt, my breath coming in short bursts that made my chest ache. Without a word, I turned and stormed inside, tears stinging my eyes, heading for the bedroom where Anshul and I had kept our bags earlier.

Ritika was my best friend, and yet… I felt betrayed. My fear had been real, raw, and they’d used it as part of their game.

A knock at the door broke my spiral of thoughts, followed by the sound of it creaking open. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Only Anshul ever came after me when I shut down like this.

“Babes, it’s just a bit of fun,” he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You know how scared I am of stuff like that,” I mumbled, burying my face further into the blanket.

“Yeah, but…” He sighed audibly. “Samay and Ritika wanted this trip. We can’t always make them adjust for us, right? Now, come on. Don’t let them win by sulking.”

I stayed quiet, the weight of his words pressing down on me. I felt the bed shift as he leaned closer, the crunch of the blanket under him signaling his patience.

And then, in typical Anshul fashion, he peeled the blanket off my head, his warm eyes meeting my glare. “What?” he said, grinning. “You pout any harder, and it’ll freeze like that.”

I wanted to stay mad, but the warmth of his presence melted the edges of my frustration. He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “Come on, Wami. A drink, and you’ll be back to stealing the show.”

I nodded reluctantly, sliding off the bed. With Anshul, there were no tantrums—just an unspoken understanding I couldn’t quite explain.

Outside, Samay and Ritika were already lounging on the worn-out sofa, their drinks in hand.

“Ah, the drama queen returns!” Ritika teased, raising her glass in a mock toast.

“On one condition,” I said firmly, cutting her off. “No more dares outside the house.”

Ritika groaned, but Samay nodded immediately, flashing his dimpled grin. “Deal. We’ll keep it indoors.”

An hour later, I found myself on the freezing terrace, counting down the seconds for another ridiculous dare. My breath fogged in front of me, each exhale a visible reminder of the biting cold. My heart hammered against my ribcage, every sound amplified in the eerie silence of the night. When I finally stumbled back down, my nerves were shot, my hands trembling.

Without a word, I snatched Anshul’s glass and downed it in one go. The bitter liquid hit my throat like fire, making my eyes water, but I didn’t stop. The burn shot straight to my chest, and I slammed the glass down on the table, wincing as laughter erupted around me.

“Atta girl!” Ritika cheered, clinking her glass against Samay’s.

Minutes later, warmth spread through my veins, the alcohol dulling the sharp edges of the night. I felt lighter, like gravity had loosened its grip on me, and as I sank into the couch, my head buzzed with a pleasant hum. Across from me, Samay was halfway through another ridiculous ghost story, flailing his arms dramatically as he described “the shadowy figure with glowing red eyes.” For the first time all night, I found myself laughing, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably.

Then came Samay’s dare.

“To scream. His lungs out,” Ritika declared with a wicked grin.

He didn’t hesitate. He sucked in a deep breath and let out the most guttural, blood-curdling scream I’d ever heard. It echoed off the walls and into the still night air. Before I could react, Ritika joined in, followed by Anshul. I couldn’t help myself—I tilted my head back and screamed too, the sound tearing out of me until my throat ached.

The laughter that followed was almost euphoric. I glanced at the clock on the wall. One in the morning. But the alcohol in my system had dulled my fear, replacing it with a strange sense of invincibility.

“I need a break,” I said, standing unsteadily.

A few minutes later, I was in the tiny kitchenette, tossing chili instant noodles into the microwave. The spicy aroma wafted through the air, making my stomach growl. When they were done, we all dove in, slurping the steaming noodles straight from the bowl. Each bite was a fiery punch to the taste buds, and we moaned in unison, tears streaming down our faces as we laughed at how absurdly spicy they were.

“All right,” Samay said, wiping his mouth. “Last round.”

I groaned, slumping into the couch. “Can’t we call it a night? I’m done.”

“Last one, Wami. I swear. Then we sleep. Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we head out. Bonfire in the evening, remember?”

I groaned again but relented. Three rounds later, my turn came, and Samay’s eyes lit up with mischievous glee.

“Go to the house,” he said, grinning. “And get inside.”

“What?” I froze, staring at him like he’d grown another head.

“You heard me. Go inside the house.”

“No. We already agreed—no dares outside!”

“If you do this,” he bargained, “we stop here. No more dares. Not tonight, not tomorrow. Plus, we’ll pay for your movie tickets for the whole year. Every time we go out, your tickets are on us.”

The offer was almost too good to refuse. I turned to Anshul for support, and he shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Up to you. But if you want my vote, I say go for it.”

I hesitated. “But… how would I even get inside?”

Samay smirked, leaning back. “Saw a window earlier. It’s open.”

I swallowed hard, my courage faltering. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” he said. “We’ll all come with you. Once you’re inside, we leave. You stay for ten minutes, then come out. Do this, and you win.”

Ritika chimed in, “A whole year of free movies, babe. Think about it.”

The alcohol churned in my stomach, emboldening me. I nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

We bundled up in our jackets, gloves pulled tight against the icy air as we stepped outside. The night seemed darker now, the villa’s silhouette looming ahead like a jagged shadow against the moonlit sky.

As we approached, I frowned, noticing something odd. The ground around the house wasn’t as overgrown as I’d imagined. Dry leaves were swept into neat piles along the corners, the kind of order that only came with regular upkeep.

“This doesn’t feel abandoned,” I muttered, my voice barely audible.

“Oh, stop overthinking,” Ritika said, rolling her eyes.

We rounded the side of the house, where the open window yawned like a dark invitation. The chill bit at my skin, but it wasn’t just the cold sending shivers down my spine.

“Are you sure about this?” Anshul’s voice was low, his concern evident.

I nodded, my resolve bolstered by the liquid courage coursing through me. “I’ll be fine.”

Steeling myself, I stepped closer, peering into the black void beyond the window. Something about the house felt alive, watching. My pulse quickened, but I pushed the feeling aside. This was just a game. Right?

The End of Chapter 1 of A Christmas Nightmare.
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