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| "Rainy Window and Letter" |
"The Mad Watchman."
High up on the edge of the jagged cliffs of Silent Hill sat a decaying wooden shack. Inside lived an old man named Rahman. He never came down to the village. He never spoke to anyone. Every single night, he could be seen sitting on his porch, staring intensely at the dark, silent forest below.
Some said he was guarding a hidden treasure. Others whispered that he was talking to ghosts.
Anik, a young and ambitious journalist from the city, heard these rumors and decided to uncover the truth. He wanted a "viral" story for his blog. Despite the warnings from the locals, Anik climbed the steep trail one rainy evening.
He found the old man sitting in a rickety chair. In his hand, he held an old, broken pocket watch. The glass was cracked, and the hands were frozen at 2:15.
"Chacha," Anik called out softly. "Why do you stay up here? The whole village thinks you’ve lost your mind. What are you waiting for?"
The old man didn't look up. His voice was like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "I am not waiting, son. I am serving a sentence."
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Anik frowned, clicking his camera. "A sentence? For what crime?"
Rahman finally looked at Anik. His eyes were milky with age but filled with a terrifying sadness. "Twenty years ago, I was the head of this village. I received a warning that the heavy rains would cause a massive landslide on this very hill. I had a choice: evacuate the slum dwellers at the base, or protect the warehouse where my grain was stored."
He choked back a sob. "I chose my grain. I thought the landslide wouldn't be that bad. I kept the warning a secret to save my profit."
The wind howled through the trees. Rahman pointed the broken watch at the valley below.
"At exactly 2:15 AM, the mountain moved. It didn't take my grain. It took the slum. My wife and my seven-year-old daughter were there that night, visiting a sick relative. I killed them with my greed."
Anik stopped recording. The "viral story" suddenly felt heavy and cold in his chest.
"I sit here every night," Rahman whispered, "listening to the silence. Because in that silence, I still hear my daughter's voice asking, 'Baba, why didn't you come for us?' I stay here so I never forget what a man's shadow looks like when it's made of pride."
Anik walked down the hill that night in total silence. He didn't write a sensational headline. Instead, he titled his post: "The Price of a Secret."
"Have you ever made a choice you regretted forever? Let's talk in the comments."