Once upon a time, in an ordinary and quiet neighborhood, lived a very kind man. He was good-natured, kind to people and his community, and he loved animals. One of his noblest acts was to feed the street dogs with biscuits every evening. While providing the dogs with biscuits, he would pet them, talk to them in lovely words, and the orphaned pets always reciprocated with happy noises, wagging of their tails, love, and loyalty. Every evening when the man would be back from his work, they would gather around his house, caress him, and he would rejoice in their pure love.

It was midnight, 31^st October when the man got a knock on his door, three times to be precise, the first two times he ignored as he was in a deep sleep, but the third time the bang on the door was loud, and he had to see who was visiting him in late hours. He opened the door to find a young man outside his door; he must have been in his twenties, in the darkness only illuminated by the dim street light, the man had a glimpse of his visitor. The young guy was very tall, looked frail and gaunt, dressed in neat but baggy formals, all black, with a red tie, his hairs were decent, but not natural, appeared blonde red, and even in the darkness, there was a glint in his eyes, like an infernal flame. Even though he was sweaty and seemed timid in the cold of the night, he wore a huge smile, one that seemed awkwardly forced.

The man, startled by the strange visitor, now shaken from his drowsy slumber, asked the young man, “Tell me, boy, what are you doing so late at night, and what can I do for you?” The young man wiped his sweat with a golden yellow handkerchief. He timidly replied, “I am very sorry to disturb you at this time, Sir, I am actually a small businessman, and I am here to share a sample of one of our products, it’s a pack of Biscuits, we call it “Happy Biscuits” pack of 31.” It is home-baked in my village with a secret recipe from my ancestors,  you see our family have a lineage in making baked products and our biscuits are the best. It is incredibly delicious, and once you taste it, I can promise it will be your new favorite; you won’t stop eating them. He grinned and chuckled a little with pride and displayed his widest eerie smile. The Kind Man said, “Dear son, is this the time to sell products? It’s midnight. The neighborhood was asleep, so was I; I have never seen any door-to-door marketing at night. I don’t want to upset you! I see you are working hard for your family name and business, it’s excellent work, but you need to be disciplined and planned. Can you visit me tomorrow morning and I will hear all about your product and you while sharing a cup of tea. The strange boy replied, “I am very sorry, Sir, my village is miles away; I walk day and night marketing our product; you see, the business is not doing well since my parents passed away! I am poor and barely surviving. Your area was the last on my list, but it became very late before I reached here, and yours was the first house I knocked. I only need one favor from you” Please keep one sample packet, try them, if you like it, then order for more; I will revisit you in three days.” The Kind man, since he was kind, accepted the sample pack and asked, “Though your marketing skills and timing are strange, I appreciate your hard toil; I will keep the pack, try them and call you? The young man replied, “I don’t have a phone number, Sir. Thank you for your gesture and for accepting my product as promised. I will revisit you in three days.

The Kind man said, “That’s not a problem! How will you go back to your home ( Village) this late at night? Do you have any temporary accommodation? The young man seemed content and happy now, his smile very wide, all of his teeth were visible, glistening and sharp, his eyes sparkled more than before, and he spoke confidently but more slowly as his voice echoed. “You are a good man, Sir; promise you will taste my biscuits; you know what animals will like them too! Now go back to sleep!” The Kind man felt dizzy and quite drowsy, unable to understand those last words, and said, “Sure I will, boy.” He was contemplating this event with the strange boy, and when the cold night air jolted him back to his consciousness, the strange visitor was gone. The kind man decided to retire to his bed.

It was 31^st October evening time, the man following his daily routine, gathered his pack of loyal dogs, nine of them, but then he remembered, the last night, the Happy biscuit pack, he will not feed his dogs with the same old brands, Milk-Bikis or Parle G, he will give them a new treat. The biscuit pack looked good, half painted in golden yellow and half in blood red and on its front in flaming red font “Happy Biscuits- A forever relish.” The back of the pack had a face of a young man with a  wide grinning smile. The kind man thought the picture was of the same strange boy who visited him last night. Though he got a weird feeling about the whole situation with the boy and the biscuits, he dismissed it and opened the packet. He whistled to his dogs and started, feeding them with the new delicious treat.

While feeding his street dogs, the man continued to do what he was best at, pet them, care for them and say lovely words. However, at this moment, his loyal pets were not returning the love. The dogs gnarled, snarled, hungrily, greedily, savagely kept eating the biscuits. The man was surprised by their behavior and kept providing, only to realize he would have fed more than thirty-one biscuits to them. Still, the pack would not get over. Every time he calculated the number was thirty-one and kept feeding the dogs. If he would stop, his loved pets would angrily bark and snarly at him as if they would attack and eat him alive. The man kept calling for his pet, saying kind and lovely words, but they would not recognize his love; they only wanted to feed on happy biscuits. Now the kind man felt scared but also curious; what is there in those biscuits? They have turned my dogs against me, transformed them into ravaging beasts. What must I do? He looked at the pack, the face of the grinning young man, and his words resonated in his ears” Promise me, Sir, you will taste the biscuit.” The Kind man, as if compelled, took a piece and took his first bite, his face content and blissful as if he tasted an elixir; he insanely started gobbling on the packet, but no matter how much he ate, the biscuits never felt short, they would all the time replicate to thirty-one. The hungry dogs were becoming impatient; they howled and growled, but the man ignored them, now he was hungry too. He continued to devour the hellish tasteful biscuits. The dogs howled in anger; they were greedy and hungry. They pounced on the man and started tearing his part, limb by limb, first feeding on his lower body parts. He was getting ripped apart, his intensities protruding from his ruptured stomach, but he kept gobbling the biscuits with his severed hands; he felt no pain. He could only feel the greed for that taste, the delicacy that was forever; he no longer cared for love or his fading life. The kind man’s body now splattered into pieces in thirteen minutes, his limbs and torso scattered in all directions, half-eaten by his favorite dogs.

It was strange that none of his neighbors could hear him or his dogs when this tragedy happened, as if it happened in a different timeline, as if the kind man was all alone with his dogs in this time and dimension. His death was brutal and mysterious, but everyone assumed he was attacked and murdered by the pack of his so-called loyal street dogs while he was kindly feeding them. Quite strangely, those dogs were never seen in the locality again; no one knows where they went or what happened to them. But indeed, there was one evidence, lying right in the middle of the mess, the kind man’s severed left hand, still holding tightly onto a pack of biscuits; facing on its front, It read “Happy Biscuits – Relish forever (Pack of 31).”

I have always been fascinated reading a good scary story and more so fascinated to write a few of my own. Last year I took the initiative to write a whole series but wasn’t successful in transforming the way I wished. Sometimes the horrors of our reality are far more perplexing than the fancy tales of ghosts and ghouls, but every misery or horror story teaches us a lesson. I hope you will read the special treat and also derive some moral from the story. Life can be beautiful and straightforward, yet gory and horrifying; that is my foundation for this story. Happy Halloween – Rain Alchemist!