Fear creates the believer.

It was late. Really late. Probably about 3 in the morning. I silently groaned and thought of the tiring day I was going to surely have after sleeping at 3am. I always do this to myself. I don’t understand why sleeping at night is so hard. The fan was directed right at me, buzzing a soothing white noise. It was hot, and the blanket was lying as decoration along the length of my body. Blankets are essential in warding of the creepy. There is a decided feeling of vulnerability at not having a splayed out blanket. Its powers aren’t unleashed unless it was splayed out. No folded blanket can vanquish night-spooks.

I turned to my side. Still no sign of the sleepy coming. I refrained from grabbing my phone to see what time it was. Probably near 4am. Great. I pushed my head deep into the pillow. Perhaps remnants of last night’s sleep would come out from the pillow and then I would feel sleepy. I tried to calm myself. Soothing, steady breaths, I told myself. Relax those eyes. Listen to the repetitive drone of the fan. I tried to achieve a state of calm. But there was a noise. Where was it coming from?

I tried not to frown in my “calming” position as my ears strained for the sound. It was a scratching. The moment the realization hit me, the hairs of my arms swept in a flurry of static. Suddenly I couldn’t move. My eyes clenched shut. I tried to ignore the scratching. It wasn’t rough or constant. It was a soft scratching. The nails weren’t gripping properly onto something. Oh God, what was trying to grip what? I tried to move my toe. It refused to obey. Suddenly a sense of heaviness pushed down on my body, I was unable to move.

I consciously reminded myself to keep breathing. Luckily that part of me still obeyed. I tried to brush away the two sentence horror stories I had read..

 

I got used to the scratching noises in my apartment. Until one day I realized they were coming from the mirror; not the window.

 

A chill went up my spine. My senses were super vigilant. The occasional scratches kept coming. My body was tied to the bed. Somehow, I couldn’t move. I was in a state of neither awake nor asleep. It was like the anesthesia was only given to relax my muscles, but not my consciousness. My touch senses were numb, or at least it felt like it. I was suddenly aware of something horrifying:

 

The scratcher was moving.

 

I could barely hear the sound as it was getting further and further away. But it was still under me somehow. But there was no room for anything to be under my bed. There was a storage box underneath. It ran along the length of the bed. But the movement was real. It was clawing its way painfully, slowly, and surely, towards the end of my bed. I tried to pull my feet up. They refused to obey. I was frozen.

 

It felt like hours, and I kept pushing my head deeper into the pillow to hear its whereabouts. By now I had accepted my fate. That I was not alone in my single bedroom. Whatever it was, it was coming for me. I could feel it. I could feel the slight change in vibrations as it tracked its way the end of the bed.

It is at these moments that you find yourself believing in a power greater than you. When you are left with no choice but to at least hope that there is a higher power looking out after you. Suddenly, you are a pious prayer.

My fate was sealed. Not only could I feel it reach the end of the bed, I could also feel it tug gently at the end of my bedsheet. It was coming for me. Ready or not, it was coming. And I was surely not ready. It had claws; whatever it was. That much I had gathered. But it was having trouble gripping with those claws. Or perhaps, it was prolonging my torture. Perhaps the scratching might have been a figment of my imagination, but the tugging was real. I still couldn’t open my eyes no matter what prayers I chanted. Suddenly Sunday classes don’t feel so bothersome anymore. I racked my mind for what to do, what to say, what defenses I had. But it was too late. I felt it catch a grip on the sheets. It was on its way. To me.

By the powers invested in me…..wait, that’s for weddings.

BY the powers of….sh*t, I really don’t know this.

 

I felt the hairs of my leg stand on end. The worst part wasn’t the feeling of fear that froze me beyond movement; it was the thought that it knew. It knew I felt its presence. I could feel each hair on my leg. It felt thicker, somehow. More tickles than usual. I hoped I wouldn’t pee in my bed out of fright. By now even the hair of my arms were standing on end; and they started to feel thicker than usual. Ticklier, if that’s a word.

My breathing was no longer regular. My mouth slightly ajar in a silent scream. Then I felt it. It was right next to my head. I clenched my eyes tight. Maybe if I ignored it, it would move on. Is this how I die? How would the coroners explain it? Did I pay my insurance? Will my family get compensation over my untimely inexplicable demise?

Then I felt it. There was no denying it. A breath in my ear.

“In the name of He who holds the power over you, I command you to BEGONE!!!!!”

 

The breath was still constant and rapid over my ear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenly there was a nose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A tiny, moist nose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Triangle, I think.

 

 

Then I felt short, soft whiskers.

 

 

 

 

I turned my body; suddenly I was able to move. I opened my eyes.

 

 

 

 

It was a kitten.

 

 

 

 

Helllllll you four-legged feline, where you come from? I say, where you come from?

 

I DO NOT have a kitten. Neither do any of the occupants of my household. I tried questioning it, but it didn’t answer. I’m pretty glad it didn’t. Imagine holding the thing in your hands and suddenly it starts speaking to you in fluent English. THAT’d be creepy.

 

Poor thing was pretty terrified. I gave it some milk and put it outside. It’s pretty warm out, so I guess it’ll be fine.

 

But that, folks, was one hell of a night.

Moral value: Check under your bed regularly. Who knows WHAT may be down there *cue creepy X-Files music*

Not for the squeemish.

The Anaconda
1. The swamp outside was murky, but clear enough to see the long scaly body slither in the waters. It was jet black. The head alone was as wide as a man's shoulder width.





The Python
2. She had lain eggs, and consumed them so they would hatch within her. My arm was outstretched; she and my arm were somehow one. As the eggs hatched within her, I could feel her regurgitate her young onto my bed, and each little one slithered out safely and awaited us.

Attempt #1.

It was a bit lumpy and too sweet. I wonder if it was the condensed milk...or the yogurt....or maybe I should have strained it.




Hmmmm...

Random VI

It's not just about you not missing them. Consider also that they might miss you.

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It is becoming culturally acceptable for the unsightly to be within sight, I suppose.

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Well I suppose with a job like that, whatever small victories to be had, will be revelled in.

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Does anyone know a good recipe for milk pudding?

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Getting yellower by the day.

***********************************

A king that must declare his position, is no real king after all.

***********************************

Baked potatoes with sausage bits and cheese inside.

Crafted by angels – Chapter 13

He stood in the hallway, locking the door. She patiently waited outside, staring at the blue garbage bag at his feet. He picked it up.

“Sure you have all the stuff you need?” she asks.

 

He gives himself a general pat-down and nods.

 

“We will throw the garbage first, then we will go.” He tells her.

 

She looks at the door 10 meters to her right. She hadn’t seen a garbage bin on the way in. he had started walking away in the opposite direction. Ah, the garbage room must be that way. She looks around at the bare, uniform walls to occupy the time. He probably won’t take long. It was amazing that all these walls remained so clean; so pristine, so uniform, and there was no noise emitting from anywhere. Total silence. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine where noises came from in her home apartment.

She heard a noise.

Oh, it was him. He was a good 20 meters away, and for some reason he had stopped; garbage bag in his hand, and was beckoning to her.

 

“Are you coming?” he asks her.

But I thought…the car is that way, and I…

She caught on that he wanted her to go with him….to the garbage dump?

 

 

She trotted her short little legs over to him as fast as she could

“I thought the car’s that way” she gestured in the opposite direction.

“Yes, but I have to throw the garbage away first” he says.

“Well, couldn’t you have thrown the garbage and then come back here for me?”

 

Why would I do that? He silently asks himself. She really is a bizarre creature, he thinks to himself. He turns down to look at her. She was looking around inquisitively. Indeed, she is easily amused, he concludes to himself.

 

Garbage safely thrown away, he turns to the steps on the way to the car. Out through another door, and there is the car. They get in. He turns to her, she is fumbling with her scarves. So many colors on one person he thinks to himself. And it is not just the clothes!

 

He turns in to a little café where they served food that reminded him of his hometown. Ah, a nice taste of comfort, as he munched on a slice of cake. He looked at her. She was painfully chewing away at her slice. It was probably her toothache getting to her. He tried to make conversation to take her mind off the pain.

 

“We are having a very late breakfast” he says.

“But it is a good breakfast” she smiles at him.

 

Their order arrives. She looks up at him and pokes at it…

“What is this?” she looked at him meaningfully.

Then he remembers. He slams his palm into his forehead.

“I forgot. I’ll order another”

She nods “And you’ll eat this one?”

“Yes, I will eat them both.”

 

They chatter away and her order arrives. She is happy with it, but painfully takes small bites. Never had he seen such a chatty person in so much obvious pain. And if there was something he was used to seeing, it was a person who was in pain.

 

“I don’t think I can finish the other half. Will you help me eat it?” she gives the pleading look at him.

He was starting to get used to that look.

 

“Yes, I will eat that.” And he munches it away. “I will get fat!” he says to her.

“Don’t worry, that won’t scare me away” She grins up at him.

They finish their late breakfast, and make their way to the car. It will be a long drive, and he was worried about tomorrow’s parking arrangements. He did not want to be stuck, unable to move. He hated that.

 

“Why are you frowning?” her small voice penetrates his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, it’s a habit of mine. I was thinking of where to put the car.” He continues to rant to her of his troubles, of little irritating things that bothered him; and suddenly he stopped himself. She does not want to hear this, he tells himself.

“…and then?” her voice again pushes through his thoughts.

He stole a glance at her. She was staring at him attentively. Even her nose appeared questioning. Was she paying attention this whole time? He wonders. No one liked it when he ranted like this. Why was she asking him to continue? He looked again at her. She was still waiting for him to continue. And so he did.

How is it that it feels so,..so,..easy to be around her? It felt like she was, and always had been, a part of his life. But she wasn’t. She was a stranger. He kept reminding himself that. She was a stranger. And soon, she will leave him. Soon, that smile will no longer greet him. No more dancing eyes to challenge him. No more puppy eyes for him to be suspicious of. She would leave him. He knew that. She knew that.

 

“You’re frowning again” she turns to him.

He smiles at her. She must never know how much these thoughts pain him. He doesn’t want to scare her that way.

Instead, he hands her his phone.

“Here, choose a song to play” he says.

“Mm? How do I choose?”

‘You search here”

“Ah….” she fumbles with it for a while.

A song starts blasting through the stereo. He smiles at her choice. He turns to her, wanting to say something, but a sudden noise wafted through his ears. She was singing! She turned to him with a slight apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. Am I being annoying?”

“No, it’s fine. You may sing”

 

And to his amazement, she starts belting out wholeheartedly. And she was,….well,….loud. One does not expect such a small creature to produce that much noise and reach those decibels. He turned to her one more time as she was belting out a particular high note.

She stops and gives him that look again.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been able to sing in weeks. And it’s usually hard for me to sing in front of people I’m not used to; but it seems my voice is coming out for you.”

He smiles “yes, you can sing”.

 

Could it be? Could it be, that two complete strangers, meet purely by chance, and yet fit into each other’s habits so well? It was impossible. This is the thing that happens in movies. Not to real people. They were driving off into the distance, singing together both in and out of tune, together. He was mocking her song choices and she retaliated by singing it out of tune. He told her that she would cause a terrible accident if she didn’t stop. She only returned a cheeky grin at him.

 

It was indeed a long drive, and he ranted petty unhapinesses to her, and she sang to him, and they sang together, and she asked so many questions. It was bizarre to him. She noticed the smallest of things. And they resulted in the most unlikely questions. He tried to answer her each time. Most of the time, he wondered if she would know the difference if he just bluffed her and made up a response.

They drove on, and he told her of his childhood, of his food cravings, of places he had been to. She always seemed so fascinated. There was no quiet in his car that day. It was a long drive, but there was no silence. She either entertained him with stories, or made him tell his stories, or she chose songs to sing, or he chose songs, which at some point he found himself singing. It was impossible. It was like they had grown up together, or at least known each other for years. She was no stranger to him, nor was he to her. It was a dream. One neither of them wanted to wake up from.

Today's reminder.

Keep as many doors open. But also remember, that standing still in the landing with all those doors wide open will get you nowhere, either. You have to make a move, not just stand there and claim that no one is inviting you in.

Today I am reminded...

That time is relative. You might think it was a short while, but to others it has been an eternity.


Hopes and dreams can be shared; it does not reduce in size, but strengthens your fight towards reaching for it.


Friendship is not a fixed shape.


If I have to justify my worth to someone, then that person is probably not worth it.


No matter how far away it may feel, if it is worth fighting for, then you should fight for it.