Monday, 3 October 2016

Unrest in Peace

It’s alluring, she can hear it calling. For no apparent reason and despite all the alerts, she knows deep down inside of her it’s where she ought to be.

Standing amidst a small garden and excitedly heading towards her new home she steps on some yellow grass, but that doesn’t bother her much, she’d replant the whole garden anyway.

It wasn’t huge but big enough for her. The walls looked cracked with tall slim windows covering most of it. Its color was dimmer than the night approaching.
One can hear her heels mounting the step in front of the door and going in.

Closing the door she could see nothing, not even her own hands. The inside was as dark, cold and gloomy as a grave. She instantly reopened the door to let in some of the dying light. She then moved towards the many windows trying to open their heavy dusty curtains. Now the interior was more obvious.
Although what she saw made her regret opening the curtains, she still felt that she belonged to that place. It was now part of her. Or is it her that became part of it?

There was some furniture – in fact what used to be furniture – now only some rigid filthy mess. However, just like the garden, she would fix everything and put the place back together, she thought, but not at the moment, she was dead tired and needed some rest. Still exploring the unknown, she goes up to the second floor on an almost collapsing staircase. Was that repairable too, she wasn’t sure, yet kept going up. Finally finding the bedroom, she puts down her luggage, opens her hand bag, gets her best and only friend out and starts to talk …

July 7th
Dear Diary.
Here I am at my new home. I’ve always been waiting for that moment. It feels like I’ve always been living here, it’s so warm and cozy. My bedroom is spacious. Some things need to be changed though, but I’ll do that in the morning. Oh, I can hardly open my eyes and my back is killing me; I’ve travelled for so long to get here. I think I’ll get some sleep.

July 8th
Dear Diary,
Now my journey begins. I have to clean up all the mess in this place and take care of the garden outside. I don’t know about the stairs, it’s going to be hard to get it fixed, but I just hope it wouldn’t break my neck until I find a solution for it.

She closes her diary, changes her dress and goes out of the bedroom. She almost fainted!

The staircase was as firm and hard as on the first day it was built. Glancing around the house, she finds everything clean and organized. It’s like a dream, or a nightmare! Is she still sleeping? No, she knows she’s wide awake. "Hello!" she whispers. “Hello" she calls out. “Hello" she screams. All in vain. She’s all alone. She hurriedly moves towards the door and upon opening it she is stunned by the green grass and the colorful flowers. Is she to rush back inside and hide or leave all this behind and run away? Neither sounds safe nor secure. She has got to figure out what’s going on. Dragging her shaking legs back into the house, she notices a calendar hanging on the wall reading July 6th. Yes of course, she just woke up. She reaches out her thin fragile weak hands and tears the pages off. July 8th it is. Still bewildered, she starts making random movements all around the house searching for an explanation, for a clue. Running across The hall, she is about to stumble and fall, but somehow, the thought of having no idea what all that means almost paralyzes her mind that she doesn’t pay the least attention to the loose tile and keeps moving.

Her day ended up in despair and agony not being able to reveal the truth and feeling mental pain above all, she lets herself drown into deep sleep, may it bring some sort of relief.

Wishing the house would be in total mess just like day one, she opens her weary eyes the next morning to find the place looking even prettier, the flowers younger, the grass shorter and the calendar … The calendar reads July 5th. She passes out!
She comes back to her senses, while barely getting up, she notices right next to her a ditch in the floor exactly where the loose tile was. It cost her only one step closer to find a dead body lying down there.

July 9th
Dear Diary,
Somebody get me out of her please. I can hardly take it any longer. It’s like I’m in a totally different world, a whole different dimension. Hell on earth. But you are my only witness and my only proof that I haven’t gone mad. The previous pages hold what I’ve truly been through. But how can that be? I need to be saved. I’m too scared to leave. And something is keeping me here, feels like I’m attached to this place by some sort of devilish bond. A bond way stronger than my will and power. I simply can’t leave … and can’t stay.

July 10th
Dear Diary,
My hand is almost paralyzed. The dead body is now lying on the floor beside the ditch. Who pulled it out? Nobody pulled it out. The body is not decaying. It is getting fresher. My body is quivering so hard I’m losing grip of you and the pen.

She’s certain there’s no way out. She surrenders to whatever is taking hold of her surroundings.  Slowly and numbly she brings herself closer to the body. It’s a young lady. She kneels down beside her. Scrutinizing every inch of her, her tears stream down her white cold cheeks, her jaw trembles you can hear her teeth almost breaking inside and her heart beats like a drum.

July 11th or July 3rd I don’t know anymore
Dear Diary,
I never thought I’d go through something like this. I even doubt there’s ever something like this. It’s demonic. I pray, beg and plead it would just end. It’s getting worse, it’s aching … Pain is too strong to endure. Hold on … I can hear something other than my heavy rapid breath. Oh God it can’t be. There’s some kind of distant sounds and murmurs downstairs.

She cautiously touches the door knob and silently turns it open. Barefoot she sneaks through the corridor and downstairs. The sounds are noisier and the murmurs are louder. Stopping in the middle of the staircase, she is able to make out some words. "Oh who are you please, you can’t do this to me" cried a soft female voice. Yet nobody responded.  "You’re crazy, you are totally out of your mind". Still no one replied back. "Help. Somebody help me" was one last ghastly shriek.

She didn’t know what to do. Should she run to her rescue or run and hide? Is it a trap? She no longer trusts anything.  Fear is captivating her; however, her conscience wouldn’t bear not saving an innocent soul.  Was she innocent?

Moving closer and getting a better view of the hall, she witnesses the grotesque horrid scene. The dead body is alive.  It was being firmly held from behind by some stout fiendish figure. She was sure it’s a man, a strong young man as she could hear the girl’s back cracking in his demonic embrace. Trying to get a closer look at him, their eyes meet for a second. For a second, her blood evacuates her body, her soul flees and her heart drops dead.  Brought back to life, she runs upstairs, locks the door and falls down on the ground feeling a shiver run down her spine.

Dear Diary,
I saw it. What kind of curse is enshrouding me? Why me? I’m literally breaking down. It’s a grave.  Damp, cold and dark. Destiny. Cruel or kind? Why do I have to see it? I came for it though. This must be it. I was meant to come here. I defied all logic and common sense to go through this. I’m terrified, can’t hold back my tears. The place is so unreal. Bricks are walling up around me bit by bit, it’s suffocating.  May God have mercy on me. May God have mercy on my poor helpless soul. Shhhh … I hear her no more.

Her voice is ceased. He murdered her.

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