This story was sent in by a listener named Nazmul, describing something that happened to him in 2010.
At the time, Nazmul worked at a garment factory and occasionally had to work overtime, sometimes until midnight or later. On nights like this, four or five coworkers would usually walk home together, since their houses were near each other in the same direction. Nazmul's home was about a mile and a quarter further than the rest, so on most nights, after the group split off toward their own homes, he still had a long stretch to walk alone.
On this particular night, he was the last one walking, under a light drizzle. He was nervous — it had been a while since he'd walked this route by himself. The path went past a graveyard and ran close to a cremation ground, an area locals avoided after dark.
Still, he pressed on, quietly reciting prayers for protection as he walked.
As he passed the graveyard and approached the area near the cremation ground, he noticed a house on the right — his cousin's home, his father's brother's son's family. As he glanced toward it, a memory surfaced: that cousin had died by suicide near this very spot a few weeks earlier.
The thought unsettled him, but as light rain picked up, he found a moment of reassurance — family lived right there, so surely nothing bad would happen. He paused under a tree near his cousin's house to wait out the rain.
That's when he noticed the tree shaking — and felt a faint, unexplained breeze. He assumed a storm might be picking up, but when he looked around, no other trees nearby were moving at all. Just this one.
Curious rather than afraid at first, he stepped to the side and looked up into the branches. Something was sitting up there, shaking the tree. He could tell clearly it wasn't an animal or a bird — it had the unmistakable shape of a person, dark and indistinct in the night.
He called out, asking who was there. No response.
He thought about going inside his cousin's house but hesitated — he didn't visit that particular relative's house often. Then it struck him: the figure in the tree had roughly the build of his cousin who had died.
He shouted his cousin's name. The shaking stopped immediately. In the dim light, he was almost certain he recognized the face looking back down at him.
That was enough. He ran the rest of the way home, arriving to find it was already close to four in the morning — far later than he'd realized. His parents had been up worrying, demanding to know where he'd been all this time.
He told them everything — what he'd seen near the cousin's house. His father's reaction confirmed his fears: his cousin, before his death, had reportedly seen disturbing things near that same spot, which was widely believed to be part of why he eventually took his own life. His father warned him firmly never to walk that road again, no matter how much overtime work paid, and reminded him that more than one person who claimed to see something unusual on that stretch of road hadn't survived long afterward.
Nazmul agreed to stop taking night shifts that required walking that route alone. He had a local religious healer check on him as a precaution, just in case, but suffered no lasting effects.
He considers himself lucky. According to local lore, that road had a long, troubling history — and not everyone who saw something there made it home to tell the story.
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