The Midnight Procession

Based on a true incident.

One quiet night, a man and his family finished their daily chores and went to sleep. As the night deepened, the man’s father said:

“You all sleep inside the house. I’ll sleep outside, on the verandah.”

He laid down with his pillow and bedsheet and slowly drifted off.

Around 2:00 AM, he suddenly woke up — his eyes wide open, his body frozen. He felt something strange. He looked toward the road and saw something that didn’t make sense.

A group of people was walking slowly down the street. They were holding musical instruments and singing devotional songs — hymns of Lord Vishnu. Their voices echoed through the night. Calm, soft, but unnaturally hypnotic.

The man stood up, almost without realizing it. He walked to the edge of the road, drawn by the sound. He stared at the group, completely lost. It was as if his mind was no longer in his control.

The singers passed by. Slowly. Gracefully. Their white clothes glowed faintly in the dim light. They didn’t look at him. They just kept walking.

He stood there, still staring, as the group moved 100… 200… 600 meters away. And then — they disappeared.

Gone. As if they were never there.

Suddenly, he blinked. He came back to his senses. Confused. Scared.

“What just happened?” “Where did they come from?” “There’s no temple festivals … only our relatives’ houses in this area. So who were they?”

He looked around. The air was freezing. The street was silent. Only one streetlight flickered dimly at the corner.

A wave of fear swept over him. He grabbed his pillow and bedsheet and ran back inside the house, his heart pounding.

He lay in bed, eyes wide open, unable to sleep, replaying everything over and over in his mind.

The next morning, he told his mother what had happened.

She didn’t look surprised.

She laughed softly and said:

“You’re lucky.” “If you had kept looking… if you had followed them further… you would’ve lost control of your mind.” “Those are not people. They are not real.” “They pull you in — slowly — and if they succeed, your consciousness fades. Your body wanders. And finally… you’re dragged into a puddle, and you die.”

After that night, the man made a promise: Whenever the power goes out, he will never sleep on the verandah again.

Moral of the story

Not everything that appears holy is harmless. In the silence of the night, even devotion can wear a different face. When the unknown calls, resist the urge to follow — because not all paths return you home.