A SILENT CRY 2

 A SILENT CRY

Written by devan north studios*

Chapter 2: The Garden of Screams

The morning after Riya’s disappearance, the garden was still cordoned off, but the crowds grew larger — journalists, curious neighbors, and grieving families.

The air was thick with whispered rumors, wild theories, and a growing sense of dread.

Jhon paced slowly among the garden’s scattered toys and crushed flowers, eyes sharp for any sign.

A small group of children huddled together, hesitant but needing to speak.

One girl, barely ten, stepped forward.

“He was tall, with a scar on his cheek,” she said softly. “He showed me a knife... said if I told, he’d come back.”

The words sent a chill through Jhon’s spine. This wasn’t a simple kidnapping — this was the work of a monster who wanted silence, and terror as his weapon.

Aarav and Jhon set up an operation room right by the garden, screening footage, tracing contacts, and putting out alerts to surrounding districts.

But the killer was always one step ahead — the city’s underbelly whispered of disappearances before, but no one had dared to confront them.

The garden now held a darker secret — a symbol crudely carved into the bark of the old banyan tree — a twisted mark that would haunt their investigation.

The hunt had begun. And the silence was about to be shattered.

The early morning mist hung low over the cracked pavement of Andheri’s Garden Lane. The usual symphony of street vendors, honking horns, and chatter was muted — replaced by a heavy stillness that pressed on everyone’s chest like an unseen hand.

The garden gate, once a place of innocent play and laughter, now stood ominously open. Police tape fluttered limply in the humid air, yellow caution marking the boundary of a nightmare.

Aarav stood with his arms crossed, eyes scanning the perimeter, watching children gathered nearby — their faces pale, their whispers hushed. Even the adults avoided direct eye contact, as if speaking aloud might summon the darkness lurking just beyond.

Jhon approached, his footsteps slow, deliberate.

“Something’s off,” Jhon muttered, crouching beside the ancient banyan tree at the garden’s heart. His fingers traced the twisted grooves carved deep into the bark — a sinister symbol, sharp and jagged, like a claw’s mark.

“Looks recent,” Aarav said, stepping closer. “Whoever did this wanted us to see it.”

A chill ran down Jhon’s spine. This wasn’t random vandalism. This was a message.

From the edge of the crowd, a small girl with wide, fearful eyes stepped forward, clutching a worn-out doll. Her voice trembled as she spoke.

“He… he came with chocolates,” she whispered. “Said he would take me too if I told.”

The garden’s shadows deepened. The children’s stories began to unravel a terrifying pattern — a predator lurking in plain sight, preying on innocence with cruel calculation.

As the sun climbed higher, the investigation spiraled into a frenzy. CCTV cameras from nearby shops revealed fleeting glimpses — a shadow crossing streets, a white van speeding away.

But every lead ended in silence.

Inside the makeshift command center, Jhon spread out maps and photos.

“We’re chasing ghosts,” he said grimly. “But we can’t stop. Not now.”

Aarav nodded, determination hardening his features. “We need to find him before he strikes again.”

Outside, the city breathed on, indifferent and relentless. But in the heart of Andheri, the garden cried out — a silent scream that refused to be ignored.

The days that followed were a brutal blur of interviews, surveillance, and dead ends.

Jhon and Aarav worked around the clock, peeling back the layers of the city’s grime to reveal the dark underbelly that had claimed Riya. Every witness felt trapped in a cage of fear, every clue drowned beneath a flood of lies and silence.

Riya’s disappearance became a grim whisper passed between neighbors — a scar on the city’s soul that no one dared to heal.

The carved symbol on the banyan tree was soon matched with similar signs discovered in underground circles — marks of a sinister network known only to a handful of criminals, traffickers who dealt in human lives like currency.

The investigation pulled Aarav and Jhon deeper into the abyss.

Each lead revealed horrors — other children vanished without trace, families broken beyond repair, shadows moving in the flickering streetlight.

One night, a call came in from a terrified witness — a man who had seen a white van near the docks, moving with unnatural speed.

Jhon and Aarav raced to the scene, the salty breeze whipping around them as the city’s darkness thickened.

Behind a stack of shipping containers, they found a makeshift camp — signs of a struggle, a faint trail of blood leading into the pitch-black maze of the docks.

The silence was deafening.

Jhon’s voice was low but fierce: “This ends now.”

As the night swallowed their footsteps, the city held its breath. Somewhere in the shadows, Riya’s fate hung like a razor’s edge — and the monste

rs waiting in the dark prepared to strike again.

---

Chapter 2 ends here.

TO BE CONTINUED.......

Written by

Devan north studio*

Created using 

Devan interactive software 

In association with gpt4o 

©Devan interactive software 

©Devan writings 

©2025

The SILENT CRY

                 Devan presents

A SILENT CRY.                    

 Written by Devan north studio*

Chapter 1: The Disappearance

The city of Mumbai breathed heavily under the oppressive heat of a late summer morning. The streets buzzed with relentless chaos — honking rickshaws, shouting vendors, the occasional clatter of metal on metal. The sun cast long, unforgiving shadows over the narrow lanes of Andheri, where the concrete and grime mingled with dreams and despair.

In a modest apartment tucked between the cluttered bylanes, eight-year-old Riya Jain woke with the gentle insistence of a distant alarm clock. Her small hands clutched a worn-out doll with one missing eye, the fabric threadbare from years of comforting tears and whispered secrets.

“Riya! Breakfast is ready!” her mother called softly from the kitchen. The aroma of boiling chai and fried pakoras drifted faintly, a warm reminder of home.

Riya’s footsteps were light as she ran barefoot across the cold tiles, the doll swinging loosely from her fingers. She didn’t know, in that innocent moment, that the day would shatter the fragile sanctuary she’d always known.

Outside, the garden awaited. A rare patch of green in the sprawling grey of the city — a haven where children played and laughter momentarily drowned out the city’s cries.

Riya’s eyes sparkled as she entered the garden, chasing after the flutter of a butterfly. Other children surrounded her — faces lit with childhood’s unguarded joy.

But beneath the bright sky, shadows lurked.

A man stood near the rusted iron gate, his smile too practiced, his eyes too cold. In his hand, a small box of brightly wrapped chocolates gleamed like a cruel promise.

“Chocolate Uncle,” the children whispered nervously.

Riya approached, curiosity overriding caution.

He knelt down, extending a candy wrapped in shiny foil. “For you, little one.”

Riya hesitated, then reached out. Her fingers brushed his.

The garden fell silent.

And then, a scream.

The scream tore through the garden like a blade, slicing through the lazy hum of the afternoon. Children froze, their faces draining of color, eyes wide in terror. The man’s smile vanished, replaced by a cruel smirk as he grabbed Riya’s small wrist with a grip that was too strong, too urgent.

“Let me go!” she cried, struggling, but the crowd was stunned into silence, their legs rooted like the ancient banyan tree towering over the garden’s edge.

Her mother, Anjali, who had been chatting with neighbors nearby, heard the scream and ran toward the gate, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

“Riya!” she screamed, desperation spilling from her mouth like wildfire.

But it was too late.

The man shoved Riya toward the gate, and with a swift movement, disappeared into the labyrinth of narrow alleys beyond.

Neighbors scrambled, shouting for help, dialing numbers, eyes darting helplessly at the empty space where the girl had vanished. The garden gate creaked, swaying slightly in the breeze — the only witness to the crime.

Anjali collapsed onto the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, her hands clawing at the earth as if she could pull her daughter back from the void.

---

Meanwhile, not far from the garden, Officer Aarav Rathore sat in his police jeep, idly scrolling through messages on his phone. The city’s endless noise seeped through the cracked windows, a low hum of life that masked the dark currents running beneath.

His radio crackled suddenly, piercing the monotony.

“Unit 7, urgent — possible child abduction reported at Garden Lane, Andheri. Dispatch says an eight-year-old girl named Riya Jain missing. Request immediate assistance.”

Aarav’s jaw clenched. He grabbed the radio mic. “Unit 7 responding. En route now.”

He started the jeep with a roar, tires spinning against the asphalt as he sped toward the scene.

His mind raced — every second mattered.

---

At the police station, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Officers hurried through the halls, phones ringing in shrill waves.

Sub-Inspector Jhon Deshmukh, a man of sharp intellect and grim resolve, had just returned to duty after a long hiatus. When he heard about the abduction, he pushed through the crowd and took charge.

“This isn’t just another missing child case,” he muttered to Aarav when they met at the station. “This city has a sickness — and it’s coming for our children.”

Jhon’s eyes burned with determination. He was a man haunted by his past failures, and this case was his chance to make things right.

“We start with the garden,” Jhon said, voice low but fierce. “And we find every shadow that hides the truth.”

---

The sun began to dip beneath the skyline as the search intensified. Families gathered, their faces etched with fear. The city’s dark heart beat faster, as if it too feared what was coming.

Riya was gone.

But her silent cry echoed through the streets, a haunting call that no one could ignore.

The garden was sealed off, police tape fluttering in the humid evening air like a threadbare shroud over the crime scene. Flashlights carved swaths of light through the gathering darkness, revealing disturbed soil, broken branches, and the faintest trace of something crimson on a jagged stone.

Jhon knelt beside the bloodstain, his fingers brushing it carefully, as if touching the fragile thread of a life torn away. “This isn’t just a struggle,” he murmured. “This was a fight for survival.”

Aarav scanned the crowd for witnesses. A small boy stood shivering near the edge, eyes wide, clutching his mother’s hand like a lifeline.

“Tell me everything you saw,” Aarav urged gently.

The boy swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper. “Chocolate Uncle… he came with sweets. Riya took one. Then he grabbed her. I tried to stop him, but… he was too strong.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a grotesque echo of innocence betrayed.

Back at the station, a flurry of activity surrounded the case. Missing person reports filed, calls to nearby stations dispatched, CCTV footage requested from surrounding streets. But the city’s chaos swallowed the clues, leaving only fragments — a man’s shadow, a van speeding away, a whisper of evil.

Jhon lit a cigarette in the dimly lit office, the smoke curling like a ghost around his head. His eyes, sharp and tired, scanned the files on his desk. Cases like this left stains that never faded — innocent lives broken, silence screamed in the night.

“Riya,” he whispered, voice cracked. “We will find you.”

Outside, rain began to fall, washing the streets but failing to cleanse the darkness lurking beneath.

The night deepened, swallowing the city in darkness that felt heavier than usual.

Inside the police station, Anjali sat slumped against the cold wall, her eyes red-rimmed and vacant. She clutched Riya’s doll tightly, whispering prayers to a god she no longer believed in.

Jhon and Aarav sat across from each other, voices low and urgent.

“We have to trace that white van,” Aarav said, showing the blurry CCTV capture. “Last seen near the garden gate.”

Jhon nodded. “And interview every child who was there. Someone knows something — they just don’t want to say.”

But as the night stretched on, the silence grew louder, and the city seemed to close its eyes on its lost child.

A simple story by 

Devan,         devan north studios*

To be continued......

Created using :

Devan interactive software 

In association with gpt4o

©Devan library 

©Devan studios

©Devan writings

©Devan interactive software 

©2025

 THE END

by devan

I'm the traveler, sailing to meet the end,

Searching for a tide to follow, but I don't know how to find.

Please take me back to the days,

I want to live it again and repeat every mistake.

Everything will come again, not those days,

The Christmas, the summer, the celebrations will come again.

But the people won't come back to enjoy with you,

Like everyone has a last day with you, but you don't know when it will be.

Like the person who left you with anger will come back,

But a person who left you with a smile will never come back.

I'm the traveler, experienced but never knowing how to reach there,

Some things come unexpectedly, like I met poetry, I don't know where it comes from.

It teaches me, "Do what you love and let it kill you,"

I know everyone is going to leave and they will never come back.

And I know that we couldn't sit together in the room,

In the same table anymore, I'm full of unsaid words.

I'm trying to follow your light, but it's nighttime,

Please don't leave me alone in the end.

Everyone you love will leave you,

The end will reach within minutes.

Once those rooms were loud and enjoying,

But it's going to end, the end of a century.

The end of many hearts, the end,

Those rooms were going to be silent.

And we realize that we couldn't sit together,

We couldn't talk together, we couldn't tease each other.

And we couldn't see each other every day,

All those are going to end, the end.

Tears will fall like autumn rain,

In the end, only left is I or you, all others will leave.

With a little smile, those never come back,

Please take me back to the days we met.

Everything has an end for me; I can't accept it,

But the true thing is the end will come.

And we couldn't do anything, and only we can do is watch it,

The days you cry make you laugh.

But the days you laugh make you cry,

When you already know what's going to happen.

But you want to spend a bit more time with them,

Before it actually ends.

I don't want to go to the end,

But I can't change destiny.

Only I can do is enjoy the bit more time with them,

Those days of smile and laughter are going to end.

Everyone will leave with a little smile,

Hug with tears rolling down, the end.

I'm the traveler, going to meet the end,

The end.

In the end, you only regret the chances you didn't take,

And the time you didn't wait.

So let's spend a bit more time with them,

Before it ends.

(Please ready travelers, we will reach the end within minutes),

The end.

When the last word writes in the paper on the last day,

The rooms were silent, the walls start to cry.

And they witness the end,

We can come anytime in this room.

But we don't have them to come and enjoy or sit together,

And we realize that we couldn't sit together in this lifetime anymore.

Maybe in another lifetime.

I'm the traveler, going to meet the end,

I can't do anything because I can't stop anything.

This is life; everything has an end, the end,

Some people don't leave, even if they're gone.

They just stay inside you in a different form,

Don't cry, please.

Just smile and enjoy the most precious moments with them,

Before it ends.

The end will come,

Live, enjoy, exist, and we can't come back again to these moments.

We don't know when the end comes,

I'm the traveler, going to meet the end.

The full stop, the dead end,

The end of many hearts, witness the tears.

And broken people's, we never know the value of a moment,

Until it becomes a memory, the end.

A pain in every heart, the end.

By devan