She convulsed violently as if being tagged by powerful
forces, each trying to make her cross into regions of their dominion. She
looked as though she had just been exposed to a botched religious ritual, where
the forces of evil and good matched each other in strength. People had gathered
in the field, watching pensively and probably thankful that it was not a
contagious disease. You watch the whole debacle through your bedroom window, a
little bit intoxicated. No. You are so inebriated that you feel the world begin
to spin dangerously.
Then, as if on cue, people begin to scamper to safety,
scaling walls, and running while looking back as though the eyes aided in
propelling them as far away from the scene as possible. Because of the
substances you had consumed earlier, you fall asleep on your bed, with all your
clothes on.
It does not take long before you hear footsteps inside your
house. At first it is one, then two then many. You feel an ice cold hand touching
your neck, and props you up as a mother would do to a baby. You slowly open
your eyes, and come face to face with the convulsing woman. She has come with a
crowd you earlier saw watch her convulse life threateningly. She touches your
face and begs you to make love with her. She had been pretty earlier, but now
she was an old woman, with a skin so wrinkled that one can hide a packet of
unga when shoplifting. She is as repulsive as a blown up image of groin eating
virus.
You sit on your bed and try to say a prayer, folding your
fists tightly. Nothing happens despite you shouting Jesus forcefully. The
woman’s entourage begins begging you to do as she asks as though the simple act
possessed healing capability. You have never thought of your tool of intimacy
as possessing any healing properties, and you don’t want to find out just then.
May be she would turn into a maiden, and without any devilish tendencies you
saw earlier. That’s none of your concern. What concerns you then is getting out
of the place with your phone intact. Instinctively, you feel your phone in your
pocket. It is still there.
It surprises you that none of the people restrain you as you
make for the door. You should have asked them to leave, but it does not bother
you. They can make away with anything they want in the house – you don’t care.
All you care is putting enough distance between you and the devilish-looking
group of humans. And with your phone. According to the National Bureau of
Agony, nothing matches the agony of losing a smart phone, and even more
agonizing is the wait until you can purchase another one.
When you get out, you are welcomed by darkness. And silence.
All the houses have their lights off, except yours. There is no soul in sight.
The world looks desolate, rid of any human soul. It felt as though the world
was in readiness for the voice of God commanding with the voice ‘let there be…’
You think; let there be humans with actual human hearts and intentions. It
dawns on you that the light in your house may have attracted them, for it is
the only one in the entire neighborhood that’s on.
As you try to process the sudden change of environment, a
young man dashes out of one the houses screaming hysterically. The scene
provides a new dimension to the already fucked up situation you just found
yourself in. What has happened to all the people? What am I going to do? A
billion questions dart at lightning speed through your mind, yet do not give
you a chance to contemplate the possible answers.
A slimy hand, or tentacles, cold as witch’s nipple at mid
night wraps itself around your neck. As you feel life slowly slipping away, you
wake up, drenched in sweat. It was a dream. Or nature was playing a cruel prank
on you since its one in the night, and you damn know very well that it is time
to think about all your problems, jumbled up as they are.
In the darkness, you stretch your hands to the table where
you usually place your phone. It is still there. You press the power button and
the screen lights up, blinding you momentarily. It’s not even three o’clock in
the morning. You know what that time means – stay awake until six thinking the
same thoughts over and over again. You know very well that you aren’t even
imaginative enough to find better angles of thinking. Like getting your ass off
and actually trying to live. But before that, you analyze the nightmare. It
looked so real. Last time it looked this real, it became a reality – story for
another day.
