The Boy Who Followed Us Through Dow Hill

There were three of us when we entered the forest.

Only two of us saw the boy.

And strangely, it was the third person who was affected the most.

This happened during a short trip to Kurseong with two college friends, Arjun and Dev. We had rented motorcycles in Siliguri and planned to spend two days riding around the hills before continuing towards Darjeeling.

Dow Hill wasn't originally part of the plan.

We heard about it from the owner of the small homestay where we were staying.

It was raining that evening, and while the three of us were having tea near the kitchen, Arjun casually asked him whether there were actually haunted places around Kurseong.

The man stopped pouring tea.

"Go everywhere in daylight," he said.

Arjun laughed. "And at night?"

The man looked at him.

"At night, why do you need to go everywhere?"

That answer was enough to convince us.

The next afternoon we rode towards Dow Hill.

It had rained throughout the morning. The forest smelled of wet pine, mud and something slightly sweet that I couldn't identify. Mist moved between the trees in patches, sometimes thick enough to hide the road fifty metres ahead.

We passed the old school buildings and continued farther towards the forest.

Arjun kept making jokes about ghosts.

Dev was unusually quiet.

About twenty minutes later, we stopped beside a narrow stretch of road surrounded by tall trees.

There was no particular reason to stop. Arjun simply wanted photographs.

We parked the bikes.

The place was silent in a way I wasn't used to.

Forests aren't supposed to be silent.

There should be birds, insects, leaves moving somewhere.

Here, there was only water dripping from branches.

Then Dev said, "Someone's standing there."

He pointed into the trees.

I saw nothing.

"Where?"

"Near that broken stump."

Arjun switched on his phone camera and zoomed towards it.

"Congratulations," he said. "You've discovered a tree."

Dev didn't laugh.

We stayed for another five minutes before getting back on the motorcycles.

That was when I heard the first whistle.

A short, two-note whistle from somewhere behind us.

I turned around.

Empty road.

We started riding again.

The road curved through the forest, and I was behind Arjun while Dev rode last.

After perhaps two kilometres, Arjun suddenly slowed down.

There was a child walking beside the road.

A boy.

He wore what looked like dark shorts and a grey sweater.

His back was towards us.

This wouldn't normally have been strange except there were no houses nearby, no adults and no other vehicles.

As we passed him, I looked sideways.

I couldn't see his face.

Not because he turned away.

His head was lowered so far forward that his chin seemed pressed against his chest.

Arjun accelerated.

I did the same.

We rode for another minute before stopping.

"Did you see that?" I asked.

Arjun removed his helmet.

"Yeah."

Before either of us could say anything else, Dev arrived.

"What happened?"

I asked whether he had seen the boy.

"What boy?"

"The kid we just passed."

Dev stared at us.

"I didn't pass anyone."

Arjun immediately stopped joking.

We got back on the bikes.

It was getting darker, and the mist had become heavier. All three of us agreed to return directly to Kurseong.

Maybe three or four minutes later, something appeared in my mirror.

Someone was sitting behind Dev.

At first I thought my mirror was wet.

I wiped it with my glove.

The shape remained.

Dev was riding perhaps thirty metres behind me.

And directly behind him was a small figure.

Grey sweater.

Dark shorts.

Both arms wrapped around Dev's waist.

I nearly lost control of the bike.

I turned my head.

There was nobody there.

When I looked into the mirror again, the figure was back.

This time its head was raised.

There was nothing above the shoulders.

I screamed inside my helmet.

Arjun must have noticed something was wrong because he slowed down, but I overtook him and shouted for him to keep riding.

We didn't stop again.

Not until we reached a roadside shop with lights and several people standing outside.

Dev removed his helmet.

He looked furious.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?"

Neither of us answered immediately.

Then Arjun asked him a question.

"Did someone touch you?"

Dev's expression changed.

"What?"

"While we were riding."

Dev looked down at his jacket.

For the first time, I noticed mud on it.

There were two muddy marks around his waist.

They looked disturbingly similar to small handprints.

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Dev wiped them away and insisted they must have come from his own gloves.

But his gloves were clean.

That night, things became worse.

At around 3 a.m., I woke because somebody was whispering in our room.

Dev was sitting upright on his bed.

His eyes were open.

He was looking towards the corner near the window.

"Dev?"

He didn't respond.

Then he raised one finger to his lips.

"Don't wake him," he whispered.

I looked towards Arjun.

He was asleep.

"Wake who?"

Dev pointed beneath his bed.

I don't remember crossing the room.

I only remember suddenly being beside Arjun, shaking him awake.

When we switched on every light, Dev seemed confused. He had no memory of speaking to me.

We checked beneath his bed.

Nothing was there.

The next morning, we packed without discussing it.

While loading the motorcycles, I noticed something stuck to the back of Dev's jacket.

A pine needle.

Then another.

Then dozens of them.

Wet, brown pine needles were packed inside the hood and collar of his jacket.

Dev hadn't entered the forest.

Not once.

We rode back towards Siliguri that morning.

Months later, I asked Arjun what he remembered most clearly about Dow Hill.

I expected him to mention the boy.

Instead, he said something I had never noticed.

"When you saw that thing sitting behind Dev," he told me, "you started shouting."

"Yeah."

"No. Before that."

I didn't understand.

Arjun went quiet.

Then he said:

"You were riding beside me for almost a minute, pointing at Dev's bike and shouting, 'There's someone behind him.'"

I still didn't understand what frightened him.

Until he finished.

"Your visor was down.

"But the voice wasn't coming through your helmet.

"It was coming from the forest."