Jennifer was a free-spirited freelance photographer who lived life on her own terms. She loved solo travel, mountains, and discovering hidden places no one had photographed before. This time too, she had ventured out alone to a remote hill station known for its breathtaking peak view.
To reach the viewpoint, travelers had to trek a 6-kilometer trail. Jennifer, excited and energetic, started the climb with her backpack and camera. Some other hikers were on the same trail, but Jennifer liked walking alone. After a while, she noticed an unpaved side path—rough, narrow, barely noticeable.
“A shortcut,” she thought.
Jennifer had done enough treks to trust her instincts. Confidently, she turned onto the rough path.
But after walking for almost half an hour, she realized she should have returned to the main trail by now. Instead, she found herself deep inside a dense, unfamiliar forest. When she turned around, she couldn’t even trace the way she had come from. Her phone had no network. Anxiety slowly crept in.
Hungry, tired, and irritated at herself, she kept looking for a way out—until something impossible appeared ahead.
A beautiful café.
Its board read: “Café Hill Retreat.”
A newly paved road led straight to it.
Jennifer couldn’t hold back her relief. She ran inside.
The interior was even more stunning—warm lights, pretty décor, soft music, and a handful of young people laughing and chatting as if everything were completely normal.
Jennifer sat at a table, still catching her breath. A waiter approached instantly. While handing her the menu, Jennifer noticed a burn mark on his wrist—red, raw, unsettling. Before she could understand it, the waiter quickly hid his hand under the sleeve.
Ignoring the thought, she placed her order quickly. Hunger was louder than fear.
Before the food arrived, she went to freshen up. As she walked toward the washroom, she passed the group of youngsters. Every one of them had wounds—a burn on someone’s forehead, a deep head injury on another. Jennifer stared unintentionally. Suddenly, the group went silent and turned to look at her… all at once.
Their cold, fixed eyes sent a chill down her spine. Embarrassed, she muttered a soft “sorry” and rushed to the washroom.
Inside, she washed her face, trying to calm down. But when she looked up into the mirror, her blood froze.
The reflection behind her showed the entire washroom burnt black—walls charred, tiles cracked, the ceiling covered in soot. And from somewhere within that burnt reflection, she heard distant screams—echoing, horrifying, short-lived.
Within seconds, everything returned to normal.
Shaken but starving, she convinced herself she was overthinking. She returned to her table and lit a cigarette to steady her nerves.
The moment she exhaled smoke… the entire café fell silent.
Every single person turned toward her. Their eyes burned with hatred.
Their bodies began changing—their skin turning pitch black, cracking apart like burnt charcoal. The waiter closest to her smiled unnaturally, then rushed at her with inhuman speed.
Terrified, Jennifer crushed her cigarette in a glass of water. But the figures kept decaying, their bodies falling apart like ashes held together by nothing.
Jennifer screamed and bolted out of the café. She didn’t stop to collect anything except her bag, and kept running until she reached the open road. When she looked back…
The beautiful café had vanished.
In its place stood a collapsed, burnt ruin, long abandoned.
Before she could process it, a speeding car struck her. The driver rushed out—shocked, apologetic—and offered to take her to the hospital.
On the way, Jennifer explained everything she had seen.
To her surprise, the man didn’t think she was crazy. His voice was calm… too calm.
He told her that ten years ago, Café Hill Retreat had caught fire because a careless customer threw a lit cigarette near the curtains. The fire spread instantly. Everyone inside died—burnt alive. The café had been abandoned ever since.
Jennifer sat frozen, her mind racing.
That meant… everyone she saw inside…
They were all dead.
As she stared at the driver in horror, she noticed something she hadn’t before—
A deep burn wound on his neck.
The next day, the local newspaper carried a short column:
“A young woman named Jennifer died in a road accident last night near the old burnt café on Hill Retreat Road.”