Here’s your story edited into a polished final draft. I’ve corrected grammar, punctuation, dialogue formatting, tense inconsistencies, and structure—without changing your voice or the suspenseful tone you’ve created.
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“This will count for your final grade, so make it count,” she said with a smug look on her face.
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I’ve always wanted to be a journalist. I’ve always wanted to tell stories in a way that seemed surreal and unbelievable. But in the end, all that matters is that people get the information right.
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Well, that sucks.
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Anyway, I was assigned to visit a village—Pancho Village, to be exact. The bus was said to leave at 5:00 PM and reach the place by 8:00 PM. I packed my bags and headed to the station, ready to write about the village’s ancestry and traditions.
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“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the accommodations,” said Bharan.
He was a thin man with a big, warm smile. He promised to guide me once I reached the village. I was supposed to stay the night and begin my work in the morning.
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I waited in the bus, watching the trees and buildings pass by. Before I realized it, I was already at my stop. Looks like I fell asleep.
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“Is this Pancho Village?” I asked the bus driver.
“Yes, my boy,” he replied.
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That kind of sent shivers down my spine. I mean, who says “my boy” these days?
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I noticed the bus was completely empty. The sky was dark. I stepped out, expecting to see Bharan. I took out my phone to call him, but it was out of charge.
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I shouldn’t have listened to music all the way here. Goddamnit.
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“Are you here alone, uncle?”
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I turned around. A girl—maybe ten years old—stood there, dressed in a torn, old skirt. Her dark hair fell over one eye. She held a lantern in her hand.
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As someone who’s watched a lot of horror movies, she creeped me the hell out. Like… what the actual fuck?
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I stayed calm, even though my heart wanted to jump out of my chest.
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“Yeah,” I said. “I’m actually looking for a man named Bharan. Have you seen him around?”
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She just stared at me.
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“No,” she said.
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I realized something strange. The entire village was blacked out—not a single source of light, except for the lantern in her hand.
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“Is this Pancho Village?” I asked.
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“No. This is…”
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Before she could finish, a roar ripped through the air.
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It wasn’t something a tiger would make. Nor a lion.
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It was something… monstrous.
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She blew out the lantern and grabbed my hand.
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“Run.”
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We ran—her pulling me through the dark toward a small hut. She shoved me inside and slammed the door behind us.
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It was pitch black.
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Before I could process what the hell was happening, I realized there were others in the hut.
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“Rumi, are you okay? And who is this man?” a voice asked.
“How many times have I asked you not to bring strangers to the village?”
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“But Mom, what if he can help us? Wouldn’t we be free?”
“No one in this village can be free, my dear,” the woman replied.
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She introduced herself as Mila.
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She told me that about two years ago, a meteor had hit the village—and it changed their lives forever.
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“The meteor brought creatures… creatures worse than the devil himself,” she said.
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They roamed the village at night, hunting for souls to feast upon. They could sense light from miles away, and once they caught you—they’d suck your soul until your hair turned white.
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“No one escapes,” she whispered. “Even if they try.”
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“Her dad… he was the first victim,” Mila said, her voice heavy.
“I couldn’t sleep for days after it happened. It was worse when she kept asking where he was.”
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“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am,” I said.
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“It’s okay,” she replied. “But you should start thinking about how you’re going to escape this hellhole.”
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Curious, I asked, “Why not leave in the morning?”
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“Because we lose it all—our memories,” she said.
“And we regain the memories of all the pain and torture once the sun sets.”
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“Then why was your daughter out there, if it’s so dangerous?” I asked.
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“I can see in the dark,” said Rumi suddenly.
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“What?”
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“She has night vision,” Mila explained. “She can see clearly in the night without a lantern.”
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“But I saw her holding one.”
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Rumi tugged at my shirt.
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“That was for you, uncle. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to see me,” she said, smiling.
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Golden.
That’s all I could feel when I saw her smile.
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Despite all this chaos, she still managed to smile.
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I nearly screamed when I noticed someone else in the corner of the room.
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“Paati, are you alright? Do you need anything?” Mila asked.
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“No, my dear. But who is this young man?” the old woman croaked.
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“I’m Pavan,” I said. “I’m here to journal about this place for an assignment. Isn’t this Pancho Village?”
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Fear crept into me as the grandmother’s voice changed—rough and deep.
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“Pancho?”
“THIS IS THE IRAVU VILLAGE, MY BOY.”
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The last thing I ever saw…
was a hideous creature…
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…with the grandmother’s face.
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*slash*
…silence.
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