Ah the holidays are always a time looked forward to by many, in this rat race holidays is the time we truly get to spend time with people that matter the most, our family. It was hard to remember when I last visited my hometown, it must have been 5-6 years since I left my quite little town located on the foothills Mussoorie, calls were the only way I was connected to my parents back home. I remarked at how busy at work I had been for past few years that, I had forgotten my childhood. This was it. I packed my bag, made my way to the train station and took a third class ticket to my hometown.

Fresh mountain air gently patted my face as I stepped down the train, the station was as quite as it had been since I last remembered it. I stretched and yawned, and looked around the station when I saw a stout man with a light moustache carrying a kettle and cup in his hand, shouting "Tea!! Hot Tea!", "I could use a hot cup of tea" I mumbled as I gestured towards him, but he ignored me, assuming he must have not seen me, "One tea" I loudly called out, the vendor looked towards my direction yet continued walking.

Not wanting to escalate the situation I made my way out of the station; luckily my house had been just a few steps away from the station and after about a minute I found myself standing in front of my house - my childhood. Faded memories whizzed through my mind, plucking garden flowers, sleeping on the veranda under the night sky, my grandma's stories... I made my way towards the front door, it opened with a click as I turned the handle. In villages since everybody usually knew each other there wasn't really a need for a lock. My house was empty, deciding to surprise my parents I made my way to my bedroom. Everything had been the way I left it, my desk, my bed, the cheesy posters on the wall and a framed dusty photo? "Hmm" inspecting the photo closely, I could make out a familiar face - jet-black hair, brown eyes, grinning widely at the camera - but I couldn’t quite remember who exactly it was. I opened the closet beside my bed, and saw several trinkets scattered around, a green dinosaur toy, some stale flowers, and a diary alongside some clothing; The diary caught my attention, I picked up the heavy leather bound diary and started flipping through it, I vaguely remembered writing some of the pages but the memories were too ambiguous.

I came across several pages about the daily activities the author had done written in a shabby handwriting, each however, ended with a closing statement of "Best, Raghu", who was Raghu? I had not known any Raghu, the diary was only filled up to around 20 pages, so I jumped to the 20th page and skimmed through what was written "Dear Diary, today I met someone"...."A spirit"..."it said it was the spirit of memories"..."it said I could get anything I want if I give it my my memories"..."so I did, and since then things have been good"..."I won a jackpot at the fair, I scored well in the exams and mom even made me my favorite cake" Oh. It couldn't be, my memories came flooding down, I remembered it - the pact, the spirit - I made a huge mistake returning to this town, I made a mistake giving into it's calls, this damned place, "I must get out of here",...I did not live here...this was not my house...these things weren't mine...this was not me...it was all fabricated, a lie by the spirit, the spirit of memories.