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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/BuddhaTheGreat on 2024-09-29 08:13:24+00:00.

I tried to run. I know. Bad idea. But most of you haven’t felt what I felt that night. At least, I hope you haven’t. For your own sake.

There is little in the world that is more terrifying than your heart wrenching with fear as you lie in bed, drenched in your own sweat, eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling. Keenly aware of your own mortality. Any man, anyone, any living thing, would want to get away from anything that makes them feel that way. So, I ran.

Alright, I should probably slow down. Start where I left off last time. If you’re new to this schtick, go start at the beginning. By the way, I thought I should provide you guys with an easy way to keep track of these experiences, if only to have a neat little log of my death throes. So, I made an index on its own dedicated subreddit. I’ll keep updating it as and when I post, so check back every so often if you’re interested. In the meantime, if you want to discuss anything, feel free to drop a post or two there. I’ll try to be involved, provided I’m not actively in the jaws of some monstrosity at that point.

Anyway, after a refreshing afternoon siesta, it was time to meet my lawyer. I put on one of the clean white tunics the servants had left out while I was sleeping. As the evening fell, the air was growing chilly, and the wind was picking up across the open fields outside, so I had Bhanu bring me a shawl. Not carrying a good jacket or sweater had been an oversight. I had completely forgotten how cold it could get in these remote places at night, even outside of winter.

What I did not forget was to swipe Ramu’s knife off the table and stick it in one of my pockets. I was not making the mistake of being unarmed, even inside the house.

My uncle was waiting for me as I threw the shawl around my shoulders and descended the stairs. He was similarly dressed in a woollen shawl and a tunic, his smile in its usual place.

“Now you look the part, kid. All that shirt and jeans bullshit won’t fly in this house.”

I chuckled, picking at the edges of the shawl. “I almost feel like I belong here. Part of the scenery, you know? Almost.”

“Hey. This is your home.” He walked up and grabbed my shoulder. “That remains true, no matter how many years you spend away from it. Your father did what he thought was best when he left. I don’t blame him. But even he always felt its pull. Whenever something went wrong, he would be on his way here the next day. We never even needed to call. He just felt it, and he came back.”

“He came back. And he died.”

He nodded. “And he died.”

“What happened that night, kaku? I deserve to know.”

“You do.” He sighed and took his hand off my shoulder, turning his back to me. “But I cannot tell you. He never discussed it with me, though I asked. Not with any of us. Only your grandfather knows what truly happened. At least, he knew.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked back at me. “This place has painful connotations for you, as it has for all of us. You did not want to come back, and I can understand why. But you’re here now. And you’re family. Our family. All of us are with you. Whatever this is… we can handle it. We always have.”

I stepped closer to him. “Grandfather could not do it, and he knew this land from birth.”

“And through him, and us, so will you.” He faced me again. “On that note, we must speak soon. About the situation here. You’ve had enough excitement for one day, but tomorrow, come find me. There is information to cover. There are rituals to be performed. The coming of a new Thakur is a crucial time. Nothing can go wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’ll all make sense eventually. Trust me, kid.” He gestured at the hallway. “The lawyer’s in the study. You should go see him now. He’ll explain the mundane side of things to you. Property, finances. You know it better than me.”

“That makes one thing.” I sighed. “Thanks, uncle. By the way, where are the others?”

“My brothers? They’re out for tonight. Working. You’ll see them in the morning.” He gave me a small wave, nodding towards the study. “Go. Don’t want him to get mad.”

The study was exactly as I had left it in the vision. The only difference was the dust that hung like a thick pall over the room. Evidently, it had not been aired out or cleaned since the disappearance of its last owner. Mercifully, the power was on this time, so the chandelier-like light overhead was working, illuminating the room with a diffuse yellow glow.

A portly, balding man in a suit struggled out of one of the chairs when he saw me enter, extending a hand.

“Mr. Sen, so nice to finally meet you. My sincerest condolences about your grandfather.”

“Thank you.” I gestured at him to take his seat and took one of my own.

We faced each other across a small table.

“Mr. Sen, my name is Jacob Durham, of Durham and Co. Solicitors in Kolkata. I have worked closely with your grandfather for a long time. I was shocked to learn of his untimely demise. And in such a tragic manner too.”

I nodded. “It came as a shock to us all. Life has been a whirlwind ever since.”

“I imagine so.” He produced a briefcase from behind his chair and set it on the table. “Of course, the association between our firm and your family goes back much farther. We have worked with your estate for almost two centuries now, ever since 1825. My father, his father, and his father before him have all served your family. And now, I get to continue the line with you.”

“I understand you’re here with details about the inheritance.” I saw right through his attempts to create a sense of familiarity. It was a common trick of the trade. But with me, that relationship would have to be earned through competence.

“Indeed.” He sharply opened the briefcase and produced a few stacks of documents, lists, and diagrams. “I understand you are in our noble profession yourself. Good. Then this should not take as long as I feared.”

It still took several hours. I won’t bore you with the details, but it suffices to say that the implications are staggering. The manor and the surrounding lands were directly the personal possessions of the family, with some of it beyond the current boundaries leased out on long-term covenants to farmers. Beyond that, we held revenue rights and limited administrative rights over the entirety of the village land, as set out in the survey records he showed me. We also owned the forest behind the estate, as well as the mountain beyond it that served as the natural landmark before which Chhayagarh was built.

Okay, I should probably explain the forest. I told you the land was dry and hard, and that’s still true. But somehow, right at the base of the mountain, the place has managed to grow a lush, dense forest. Such vegetation density is not present anywhere else in the region. A part of the forest falls within our estate walls and contains the family grove, but most of it is outside, with only a narrow path winding through it to reach the steps that lead up the mountain. I theorize that the mountain caught what little rain the place gets and concentrated it there to allow the forest to grow, but knowing what I know now, there could have been some occult shit involved.

In any case, I found out that there were even more remote assets: townhouses in Kolkata and some other cities, satellite estates in the countryside, temple and shrine revenue, old hunting and lumber forests, business ventures, and even investment portfolios and commercial real estate. Even accounting for the maintenance and labour costs to keep everything functional, the property was raking in an absurd amount of money.

“Someone has been putting in the work to grow the pie,” I muttered, rifling through some deeds that described stakes in offshore oil blocks in the Americas.

“The family has been accumulating its assets for centuries, Mr. Sen. Usually, such estates lose a lot to mismanagement over the years, but I’m happy to report that such is not the case with yours.”

“A lot to keep track of.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Most of these assets are handled by a network of trusts and corporations with experienced administrators. Trustworthy ones. We have spent a lot of time perfecting the governance structure. I will send the documents over if you like, but the gist is that we can take care of maintaining and growing the estate. You need only decide how to best spend the windfall. Your family has always invested heavily in the village, both for welfare and other, more esoteric purposes. Those ones, I never fully understood.”

“You and me both, Mr. Durham. You and me both.”

He shrugged lightly. “I’m not paid to ask questions. In any case, if you ever need anything from the estate, let me know. We’ll make it happen.”

One of you had prompted me to think about the legal status of our zamindari all the way back in my first post, so I took the opportunity to pop the question.

“Ah.” Durham scratched his chin, smiling. “That’s a good question, …

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