Young Writers Society

Dreams were infrequent. Nightmares recurrent. Each night when the bulbs of the room went off another of the deepest gruesome secrets poured out from under the bed or tumbled down the ceiling. Spiders of the size of soccer balls climbed down from their webs over the head – with long hairy legs and big juicy centers. Blood…blood gushed out from the wardrobe drowning her inside the room, soaking her white pajama red…gradually scarlet. Centipedes with thousand legs crawled over her body after climbing in from outside the window. Even when the windows were shut close with newspapers under their sills, unlikely to be pushed open by any kind of storm, some kind of hairy creature made its way up inside the room. They lurked around her throughout the night, like blotches of sin, until the dawn washed their existence with her chaste beams.

Candles started to remain lightened throughout the night. She couldn’t afford to light the bulb: it would’ve attracted attention. Wet bed-sheets were changed each morning. The pillows sodden with sweat and tears were hid under the bed. And still she was going through days as if everything was as usual. Nothing mattered as long as she was alive and sane.

They won’t leave her sane though.

It was the night of Friday the thirteenth. She was shuddering crawled inside her blanket: her head digging deep inside her chest, her legs curved inward into her stomach. Despite her body soaking in sweat she curled deeper still inside the blanket. The summer air drenched with the fragrance of night, flipping pages of books, disorderly stacked on the study table was let in through the window. Crickets sang. Night-birds screeched or made a sudden high pitched note breaking the still silence of the night.

The sound of her teeth clattering could be heard even from under the blanket. It was nearly the time. She clutched her hair. Tick-tock-tick-tock went the clock on the opposite wall. She held her breath. There was silence, broken by the rhythmic falling of the seconds inside the puddle of time. Tick-tock-tick-tock. She pulled her hairs and clenched her teeth. A stifled moan escaped from her mouth. Frightened she fastened her hands around her mouth. More tears spilled on the pillow.

And there they begin. The tentacles of the darkness were clutching her ankles. They crept slowly, slowly towards her face. She looked at them with horror. She shook them off. Yet she was being caught in their grip harder. They won’t let her escape. She tossed and turned on her bed. She cried. They won’t leave her. They were growing stronger. Much more than ever.

She heard her mother’s voices from behind the doors of her room.

“It’s all because of you,” she was saying. “Do you know what she does each night when she thinks no one is awake? She cries. What hadn’t your habits driven upon us! Our only child cries throughout the night. And what do you think has driven her into that? We fight with each other because of your coming home late –

Pretense, a voice whispered in her head.

“Here you go with your blames!” Her father’s voice bellowed. “…as if only I am responsible for everything! Why don’t you listen to me then and pack you stuff? You would do better at your mother’s home.”

The tentacles curled and caught her neck. She looked inside the blanket with horrified eyes – filled with dread– unable to escape its grip. She was being suffocated.

“Why, you want to spend even the nights with that witch do you, if you haven’t still with all those plans of night-stay at some nonexistent friend?”

The dark liquid reached her ears, caressing her earlobes. Her hands were still on her mouth. She looked sideways at the liquid tentacles – murky black – reaching inside her ears. She couldn’t scream. Or else they will come inside. And they will send her away – to some far off place from where there would be no escape. She would be entangled forever in misery. She would be strangled to death. Alone. Forever wrapped inside her solitariness.

“You are out of your mind!”

“Now I am mad, am I? Do you take me for a fool? All those messages and e-mails –

“You’ve been prying on my things? How dare you –

“What do you think you are up to? You are a married man with a fourteen year old daughter. If not for my sake think about her, will you? I know it’s all…that wench’s fault but dear… please… Ruyi is old enough to understand what’s good and bad. And you aren’t setting a fine example –

“I’ve had enough of your talk. Serve the dinner or should I go out to get even that?”

“ Ramesh! Why don’t you understand?”

“Don’t play all damn good here! I know about your affairs if you think I don’t! And that girl – even about that… even about that I’m not sure if she is my own or not.”

Ruyi gasped. The dark tentacles had reached her face. For a moment she just stared blankly. And then she shut her eyes. She gave up. It was enough fight for one day. Tomorrow when the darkness will try to eat her once again she would fight it better. ‘Only if tomorrow arises, my dear,’ the voice hummed. She ignored.‘Not now, don’t think,’she told herself,‘today was hard enough.’ She let the liquid flow inside her body, to devour it and defile it. She was still as a stone, crawled like an infant inside the blanket. The summer air of May was blowing inside the room. The clock was ticking.

“Don’t you dare place such blames o-on my head! Me having affairs! How could you!”

Tick-tock-tick tock.

“SHUT UP. I know what you have been doing up till now. What was that with Rahul or Sanjay? Then, why not me as well? I will do as I please. You haven’t got a say in my life and that has been the case for a long time now. YOU-you have brought it all on your head. Bear with it now you bloody backstabber!”

The fight was over. Breathing ceased.

“Ra-Ramesh! RAMESH!”

A door closed. The night became darker. Ruyi fell asleep.