11:11
Amina’s apartment in Mumbai was nothing remarkable—a noisy, dimly lit space above a mithai shop that smelled perpetually of ghee and sugar. The walls were stained with years of monsoon damp, and the hallway light flickered at random intervals, as if it were trying to communicate something.
It was home, but studying here was a nightmare. Her mom, ever bustling and singing Bollywood classics, filled the house with life that Amina usually loved—just not during finals season.
After trying every corner of the apartment, she found herself settling on the hallway floor. The narrow corner by the bathroom was quiet and cool, though hardly inviting. She sat cross-legged, leaned against the wall, and muttered, “Sheru, stop bothering me for once.”
Sheru, their semi-adopted stray cat, paused mid-pounce at her notes. After a brief, judgmental stare, he turned and padded into the living room.
Amina stared after him, raising an eyebrow. It was probably nothing.
The First Coincidences
A few days later, her mom was on a loud, animated phone call, the kind that carried through every inch of the tiny apartment. Amina, cornered in her now-favorite spot, flipped through her notes and grumbled, “I wish she’d stop talking.”
Moments later, silence fell. Amina peered around the corner. Her mom was still sitting on the sofa, holding the phone, but the line had gone dead.
Amina frowned. The power cuts in the area weren’t unusual, but the timing was uncanny.
That night, as she settled into the corner again, she found herself muttering another wish, this time about how she wished the Wi-Fi would just fix itself. The next morning, her mom mentioned casually that the neighbor had reset the shared router, and the connection was perfect.
Amina didn’t say anything, but her thoughts buzzed louder than the fan overhead.
The Clock Strikes 11:11
It wasn’t until a week later that Amina noticed the time. One night, as she sat in the corner trying to work through her history syllabus, she glanced at her phone just after muttering, “I wish class would get canceled tomorrow.”
The clock read 11:11 p.m.
She didn’t think much of it—until the next morning, when she woke to a message in her college WhatsApp group. A water main had burst on campus. All lectures were canceled.
She stared at her phone, her pulse quickening.
Was it her? Was it the corner? Or was it just… life happening?
The next evening, she tried again. At exactly 11:11 p.m., she whispered, “I wish Sheru would stop scratching the sofa.”
The next morning, she found the sofa untouched and Sheru lounging by the window, uninterested.
It wasn’t magic. It couldn’t be magic. But it was something.
Testing the Waters
Amina started experimenting with the corner in earnest. She set alarms for 11:11 a.m. and 11:11 p.m., retreating to her spot like it was a ritual. Each time, she whispered something simple, something small:
“I wish Mom wouldn’t make karela tonight.”
“I wish the paani-wala would come on time.”
“I wish I could find my old notebook.”
Every wish came true, but always in ways that felt too natural. The notebook wasn’t conjured from thin air—it was sitting in a pile she’d forgotten about. The karela went bad before her mom could cook it. The paani-wala had simply adjusted his route.
It wasn’t magic. It couldn’t be magic.
Right?
The Uneasy Rules
Over time, Amina pieced together the rules:
- Wishes only worked at exactly 11:11.
- They had to be spoken aloud.
- They only worked in the corner.
She wrote them down in her diary, careful to keep her wishes harmless. But the more she tested, the more the coincidences started to feel… heavy.
When she wished for rain, the monsoon came early. When she wished for a better grade, her professor fell sick and postponed the assignment.
The wishes weren’t bending the world—they were shifting it. Rearranging events just enough to make them possible.
And with each wish, the corner began to feel… different.
The Shifting Atmosphere
The apartment started changing. It wasn’t anything she could point to directly—just little things, creeping in at the edges.
The hallway felt darker, even with the light on. The air seemed heavier, pressing against her skin. Sheru refused to go near the corner anymore, hissing whenever Amina carried him too close.
Her mom, usually so full of life, became quieter. She spent hours staring at nothing, her phone forgotten in her lap. When Amina asked if something was wrong, her mom just shook her head and said, “This house feels strange these days.”
Amina laughed it off, but the words stuck to her like cobwebs.
The Final Wish
It was a humid Friday night when everything came to a head. The city outside buzzed with the usual chaos—honking cars, vendors calling out their wares, distant music from a wedding procession—but inside the apartment, it felt unnaturally still.
Amina sat in the corner, her knees hugged to her chest. The air felt thick, like it was pressing down on her, urging her to speak.
She checked her phone. 11:10 p.m.
One minute to go.
The thought came unbidden, heavy and unshakable. She didn’t want to say it. Didn’t even really mean it.
But as the clock ticked over to 11:11, the words tumbled out:
“I wish I was dead.”
The hallway light flickered once. Twice. Then it went out completely.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
Then came a sound—a faint creak, like a door opening.
It was her mom , with her food. Nothing to be scared of , she wondered.
She tried to hold the fork……and kept trying.
