The Nightwork of the Torch Ghosts

 

Village Parvatagiri was famous for brave farmers, but among those Ravi was the bravest. He was a hardworking dedicated farmer. Parvatagiri had some whispers of torch ghosts—restless spirits who wandered the fields at night, their eyes burning like fire, each carrying a flickering torch. They were known to haunt the crops, chase farmers, and vanish before sunrise.

It was said they were the spirits of greedy landlords from ages past, cursed to roam the earth for exploiting the farmers. Now, they held power only from sunset to dawn. By morning, their flames would flicker out, and they'd be helpless once more.

The villagers feared them deeply. No one stepped into the fields at night—except one.

A humble but clever farmer named Ravi.

One night, his crop was on the verge of withering, and he couldn’t afford another bad season. So, against all warnings, he took his tools and walked into the field under a full moon.

As the clock struck midnight, a wind howled through the grass. And then—appearing like fireflies rising from the earth—came the torch ghosts. Their eyes glowed, their voices hissed, “Why do you walk where none dare?”

Ravi, heart pounding but face calm, replied, “Because I need help. My harvest is failing. You want to haunt this land? Then at least make it fruitful.”

The ghosts paused, confused. Never had someone spoken to them like that—not with fear, but with… commands.

“You are cursed to roam,” Ravi said. “So why not make yourselves useful? You hold torches. Light my path. Work the field. Let your punishment have purpose.”

Bound by ancient magic to obey those unafraid and truthful, the torch ghosts—grumbling—obeyed. All through the night, they ploughed, planted, and cleared weeds, their torches lighting the soil in strange glowing patterns.

As dawn approached, their torches dimmed, and their ghostly forms began to fade. But before vanishing, one whispered, “Clever farmer… You tricked the curse.”

Ravi simply smiled. “No trick. Just labour. Something you all once avoided.”

From then on, he returned to the field each full moon, and the torch ghosts, bound by his boldness, worked the land until dawn. His crops thrived. The village prospered.

The torch ghosts, once feared, became silent workers in the night—until the curse would one day break.

But only for the brave who dared to give orders in the dark.

 

Omkar Hosalli

English Language Teacher

GHS Hullatti