There was once a Brahman named Kritákrita who neglected the study of the Wédas, and walked in the black path, abandoning all his duties, and associating with gamblers, harlots and outcasts. And he frequented the cemeteries at night, and became familiar with ghosts and vampires and dead bodies, and impure and unholy rites and incantations. And one night, amid the flaming of funeral pyres and the reek of burning corpses, a certain vampire of his acquaintance said to him: 'I am hungry, bring me fresh meat to devour, or I will tear you in pieces.' Then Kritákrita said: ' I will bring it, but not for nothing. What will you give me for it?' The vampire replied: 'Bring me a newly slain Brahman and I will teach you a spell for raising the Dead.' But Kritákrita said: 'That is not enough.' And they haggled in the cemetery for the price. At last that abandoned Brahman said: ' Throw a pair of Dice that will enable me always to win at play and I will bring you the flesh you require.' So the vampire said: ' Be it so.' Then Kritákrita went away and knowing no other source secretly murdered his own brother, and brought him to the cemetery at midnight. And the Vampire kept his word, giving him the Dice, and teaching him the spell.
Then sometime afterwards, Kritákrita said to himself: ' I will try the efficacy of this spell that the vampire has taught me.' So he procured the body of dead Chándála, and taking it at the dead of night to the cemetery, placed it on the ground, and began to recite the spell. But when he had got halfway through, he looked at the corpse and saw its left arm, and leg, and eye moving horribly with life, the other half being still dead. And he was so terrified at the sight, that he utterly forgot the rest of the spell and leaped up and ran away. But the corpse jumped also, and a vampire entered its dead half, and it rushed rapidly after him, shuffling on one leg and rolling it's one eye, and yelling indistinctly: 'Underdone, Overdone, Undone!' But Kritákrita fled at full speed to his house and getting into bed lay there trembling. And after a while he felt asleep. And then suddenly he woke up, hearing a noise, and he looked and saw the door open, and the corpse of that half Chándála came in, and shuffled swiftly towards him on his left leg, Rollin its eye with it's dead half hanging down beside it and crying a terrible voice ' Underdone, Overdone, Undone'. And Kritákrita sprang out of bed and ran out by another door, and mounting a horse, fled as fast as he could to another city a great way off.
And there he thought 'Here I am safe.' So he went day after day at the gambling hall, and playing with his Dice, won great sums of money, and lived at his ease, feasting himself and others. But one night, when he was sitting among the gamblers in the gambling hall, throwing the Dice, he heard behind him a voice of shuffling. And he looked around, and saw coming swiftly towards him on one leg, the corpse of dead Chándála, with it's dead half rotting and hanging down, and it's left eye rolling in anger, and calling out in a voice of thunder: ' Underdone, Overdone, Undone'. And he rose up with a shriek, and leaped over the table, and fled away by an opposite door, and left that city, and ran as fast as he could, constantly looking behind him through the forest for many days and nights, never daring to stop even to take breath, till he reached another city a long way off. And there he remained, disguised and concealed, as it were in a hole. But all the gamblers in the gambling hall died of fear.
And after some time he again accumulated wealth by gambling in that city, and lived in extravagance at his ease. But one night, when he was sitting with the courtesan he loved, in the inner room of her house, he heard the noise of shuffling. And he looked round, and saw once more the corpse of that dead Chándála coming swiftly towards him on one leg, with it's. dead half, from whose bones flesh had rotted away, hanging down and it s left eye flaming with rage, calling out with a voice like that of Ráwana 'Underdone, Overdone, Undone'. Then the woman then and there abandoned the body in her terror. And Kritákrita rose up, and ran out by a door, which lead upon the balcony, while the Chándála hastened after him. And finding no other outlet, Kritákrita flung himself down into the street, and was dashed to pieces and died.