Marjuque ul Haque

A story recounting a mysterious phenomenon.

I stood before the door of the house where my grandmother once lived. Age and infirmity had jaded what might have once been a proper door.

Slumped with our luggage we got off the train looking apprehensively at the quaint sight before us. Saplings and balding grasslands carpeted serenely with occasional trees of variety here and there. The scenery struck me with great unfamiliarity in contrast to the city