The six-year-old had wide, round eyes when he pointed to the empty house across the street.

The four, three and five year olds crowded around him, their faces reflecting the awe they saw in their friend’s eyes.

“That is a Bhoot Bungalow,” proclaimed the six year old in a half-whisper. “I have seen a bhoot there.”

The others duly shuddered at the words. The six year old looked around to see the consequences of his announcement.

“What is Bhoot?” asked the four year old.

“Bhoot is scary,” replied the eldest, the most knowledgeable of the lot, the one who had seen the bhoot. “Bhoot… er… wears white dress. And has red eyes. And walks at night, singing.” Suddenly terrified by his own words, he ran away back to the playground.

The three and five year olds wasted no time in following him.

The four year old was still staring at the building, unaware that he was now alone. He was visualising the person in white dress, singing alone at night.

“I like Bhoot,” he said to himself, and slowly walked back to his friends.