Journalstone's 2010 Warped Words for Twisted Minds (7 page)

Wrapping him in a blanket, the paramedics helped Ashok up and guided him to the white van with the flashing lights at the end of the drive. Turning his head ever so slightly, Ashok peered over his shoulder and saw the yellow tape that had barricaded his house. He noticed the front door was still ajar but couldn’t muster the strength to say anything.

The two men in bright yellow jackets helped Ashok up the steps and placed him on the stretcher before shutting the van doors. As they strapped him in, Ashok sat up and looked through the glass panes at his home once more. The van wobbled gently as it maneuvered its way over the gravel path and around the remainder of the driveway out of the gates. Overhanging trees and unkempt bushes started to obstruct Ashok’s view as the distance between him and the house grew. A sudden gust of wind caused the van to sway and startled everyone in the vehicle except Ashok.

“PAPA!!!!! PAPA!!!!!” The wind carried his son’s loud cries.

Suddenly, the partly open door slammed ferociously shut, from the inside. Ashok watched and remained silent as the van left the premises.

In the Hindi language, “Saya” means both “Shadow” or “Spirit.”

“Mom, thanks again for letting me move back in with you. I promise I won’t be a burden. It’s only until I find a job and get my feet on the ground … and then I’m outta here, promise,” Nadia said to me as she held her hand up like she was taking an oath. Her smile beaming, she turned to go upstairs to her room.

I smiled to myself and picked at the hangnail I just couldn’t stop messing with. Of course, I’d help her out. She’s my daughter, all I had left from my wrecked marriage. And she had just graduated from college and really, had nowhere to go – yet. She was at the top of her class, so the job offers were bound to come rolling in sooner or later. I was hoping it was later, rather than sooner, as I could really use her company right now. I wouldn’t dare tell her that though. I didn’t want her to think I was needy or trying to smother her. I looked up at Nadia again, as the hangnail began to bleed and put my finger in my mouth.

Even though she’s my daughter, and I’m very biased, she really is one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. At 23, she has her whole life ahead of her, and I admire that. I watched her as she jogged up the stairs, her ponytail swishing back and forth, and I secretly hoped she would stay forever. With the noises I had heard last night still fresh in my mind, I didn’t want to be alone in this big, old house anymore. Especially now, since the sounds have become a sort of macabre soundtrack, like eerie backdrop music, for daily life in this aged Victorian farmhouse.

Nadia stopped in the middle of the staircase and turned to look at me, a questioning expression on her face. Fear washed over my body like a prickly shower. Oh God, did she hear them, too? What do I say to her? The scraping noises coming from the attic moved to the forefront of my consciousness. Since all of these strange sounds had become normal background noise I no longer really heard, like when the furnace kicks on or when the refrigerator hums. I panicked, remembering how scared I was when I first heard them, and felt for my little girl now that she might experience them as well.

“What honey? Did you hear that too?” I asked quickly, almost too abruptly, and I knew my eyes were as wide saucers.

With her expression turning even more enigmatic, Nadia wrinkled up her face and answered, “No, I didn’t hear anything Mom.” She smiled at me and shook her head. “I was just going to say that J.P. is coming over for a while, after he gets off work. We’re just gonna watch a movie and order some pizza, his treat, you can join us if you like...or…I could tell him some other time if you don’t feel up for having anyone over. It’s your house. “

She shrugged and looked down with her lips in a pout, as if in defeat. My daughter always did know how to work me. Pulling on my heartstrings, she could play me like a fine-tuned violin.

Sighing long and bittersweet I answered her, “Sure sweetie that sounds good, I could use the company. Just because you live with Mom again doesn’t mean you can’t have a life.”

I guess I’d have to get used to her not being a child anymore, though, I didn’t have to like it.

“Thanks Mom, I love you.”

She turned and ran the rest of the way up the steps to her room. As she disappeared around the corner, I got a glimpse of a dark shape going the opposite direction. Must be her shadow I told myself, but I had a feeling that wasn’t it. Forgetting all about my stupid hangnail, I went into the parlor to regroup for a minute. I literally hadn’t slept in days, and I was beginning to feel the repercussions. I had been telling myself the noises I was hearing, and now the shadows I was seeing, were the end result from lack of sleep. But I was still unconvinced. With unsteady legs I sat down on the overstuffed ottoman to try and rationalize what was happening to me.

Was I going crazy? I know I heard those noises. I’ve been hearing them all week. Now, I’m seeing things? Obviously Nadia didn’t hear or see anything, but what does that mean? It’s more than just this old house settling. It’s more than just a lack of sleep. I wouldn’t have thought so before, but after last night, I know something’s going on.

Looking at my arm, I saw that the scratches were still there, fresh, red, and swollen. Little dots of blood had hardened sporadically along the cut-marks. It resembled a Marquis de Sade connect-the-dots game. Shivering, I tried to clear my mind of the bad feeling I was suddenly getting. Maybe with Nadia here, things would be different, things would hopefully settle down.

Shutting my eyes to the world around me I took a long, measured, deep breath until I thought my lungs would burst. I exhaled and felt a little of the stress and tension leaving my body. I rolled my head on my neck and shrugged my shoulders. I could really use a vacation. I decided to try the ohm technique I had learned when I took that meditation and yoga class at the Y. At the time, I thought it silly and pointless. But now, I was willing to try anything. Clearing my head and relaxing all my muscles, I began.

“Ooooohhhhhhmmmmmmmmm.” “Ooooooohhhhhhhmmmmmmmm.”

“Oooooooohhhhhmmmm.”

Low, slow and even, I continued with the universal buzz. I let my hands rest, palm up, on my thighs and kept going. Ridiculous as it may seem, it appeared to be working. Boy, those Yogis really know their stuff.

I was getting lost in the practice when I felt Nadia’s tender touch on my shoulders. She began massaging them, and I sighed. Having her here with me made the future seem brighter. She rubbed gently along the top of my shoulders and up to my lower neck. I felt her thumbs working circles at my occipital base and let my head tilt back into the pressure she was exerting. I’m really gonna like having her around.

Her loving hands slid back down, skimming my collarbone, as she began working out the kinks in my upper arms. I allowed myself to be lost in the moment. I felt myself drifting. I was moving further and further away from all my present troubles and enjoying the thought of time spent with my little girl. I let her rub my worries away, and I was so relaxed when she stopped that I could have fallen asleep right then and there. Who knows, I may have.

“Thanks, sweetie,” I said as I turned to look at her. But she was gone. Just like that – gone. Almost as soon as I realized how quickly she could disappear, I heard her upstairs giggling, apparently on the phone. Cold prickles of fear washed over me. How could she have been down here, massaging me, and then made it back upstairs so quickly? And made a phone call. Or did the phone ring and she answered it? Did I fall asleep sitting up? It is possible; I have never felt so tired in all my life. And I was so relaxed…

I could hear the distant approach of the garbage collection truck. The birds were singing outside. Nadia was upstairs in her bedroom, talking on the phone and all seemed so … normal. But I knew better. Something was going on. I found it really hard to believe everything that had been occurring was from lack of sleep. Either I was losing my mind or … I couldn’t yet face the other possibilities.

I tried, once again, to relax and found some consolation in focusing on the more pleasant sounds of life around me.

A low, slow scratching sound began to come from the dining room, shattering my moment’s peace and silence from the clamor my house had become. It’s never left the attic before. Every hair on my body rose to attention as I stood, hesitantly, to go investigate. I had to do this, if only for my own sanity.

As I walked down the hallway, I tried to convince myself it was just the cat playing around in the paint trays left from today’s latest project. Knowing the week’s events, I had a sinking feeling it was more than that. The floor boards creaked, and I almost laughed. I remembered when I was a child and that used to be the most frightening sound to me as I lay awake in my bed at night.

Things certainly change when you’re an adult. The things that scare you when you’re supposedly grown up are more sinister and … real.

I approached the room with trepidation, my stomach began to feel nauseated, and a shiver ran down my rigid spine. Cold sweat broke out all over my body, seemingly drenching my clothes, as I held the wall to steady myself. A smell of rotten, putrid, decaying flesh permeated the area, knocking me to the floor. My head felt dizzy, and I put my hand over my mouth to quell the sudden urge to heave my guts up.

I felt a heavy hand, a man’s hand, on my shoulder. Paralyzed with fear, this hand slowly slid down my arm and came to rest on my thigh. I felt the fingers caress my skin and saw goose bumps form where the invisible touch passed. Shivering violently, I began to wonder how long it took to suffocate as I realized I had stopped breathing.

With now measured, but heavy breaths, I watched the events unfold. My skirt began to slide up my leg, exposing more flesh, and I could see finger rakes appearing where the unseen hand had just been. As this indiscernible “thing” moved further up my thigh, I felt my heart pounding, threatening to release itself from my chest. I grabbed at my skirt and yanked it back down. The scraping noises grew louder.

I could still feel whatever it was sliding eerily up and over my hips, to my waist, on its way to my stomach. The scraping sounds became faster, more persistent. My invisible molester had reached my chest and as the buttons to my blouse came undone, the scream I had been stifling burst out of my clenched mouth. The scratching reached a crescendo and then the pocket doors to the dining room slid shut with such force - it made my heart feel like it was going to explode out of my heaving chest. All went silent.

“Mom, are you okay, what happened?” Nadia asked as she ran down the hallway to my side with concern in her eyes. I hadn’t even heard her coming. And the house, it seemed so … silent.

“Yes, I, uh…” I looked around. The smell was gone, the scratching had stopped, and everything seemed, well, normal. “Yes, I’m okay, I’m just so tired.”

I tried to sound convincing, but I wasn’t sure that Nadia believed me. From the look on her face, she seemed not only worried, but seriously afraid. I smoothed my skirt down and straightened my sweaty hair. Then, as I gazed into my daughter’s eyes, I saw her fear.

“What is it, Nadia?” I had maybe a little too much aggravation in my voice as I said this, but I was teetering on the brink.

“I’m just worried about you. I thought I heard you scream, and then you slammed those old doors so loud it made me jump. I thought something happened. You’ve been working so hard on fixing up the house that you haven’t really been taking care of yourself. I mean, for Pete’s sake, you tore down an entire wall by yourself. Not to mention, I know you, you probably haven’t slept in days.”

“Seriously, it’s okay, I’m okay. I’m just so tired from all this remodeling, and I couldn’t sleep last night so I kept working. You’re right though; I’ve been pushing myself too hard, but without your father around…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

I was still so angry at Jake for leaving. And he had the nerve to leave before we had finished the restorations. Now, if there were any chance of my selling this money pit, I had to go it alone. Nadia looked at me with pity in her eyes. She was just as angry at her father, but I think she understood the divorce had been long coming.

“Why don’t you go watch TV and wait for, what’s his name, J.P.? I’m gonna wash the dishes from last night and then go to bed. Tell J.P. that I said thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to take a rain check. I really am so tired.”

I smiled the best I could muster under the circumstances and patted her hand.

Nadia helped me up, gave me a hug and looked at me with curious eyes.

“I just don’t feel like you’re telling me the whole truth,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously. “I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

“I’m fine, just very, very tired,” I replied. She seemed somewhat more convinced as I forced a smile. Nadia sighed, appearing to accept my answer and then smiled back.

I hugged her again, assuring her I was okay.

She went to the living room while I, somewhat shakily, made my way to the kitchen. I stood at the sink, lost in my thoughts and wondered if I should call a shrink. He could at least give me some valium or something to calm my nerves. Screw the shrink, I should call a priest. I know what I heard. And that smell, I have never smelled anything so awful. It smelled worse than the time, at our former house, when our dog Briar had dug up Nadia’s dead cat, about two weeks after it died.

I have got to get a grip on myself. I looked once again at the scratches on my arm then I felt an odd burning sensation on my stomach. Lifting up my shirt to find the source, I was instantly sick. The contents of my stomach emptied into the sink.

My head swam with possibilities. Was I somehow doing this to myself? I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and looked again. Four bloody scratches traveled across my stomach and then up, diagonally, disappearing under my bra. They burned, like a cat scratch, and cold fear raced through my veins as I tried to imagine who, or more aptly, what had made them.

It must have happened when I slid down the wall, I must have scratched myself on the exposed brick. I was pretty faint. I told myself these things, though somehow, I knew I was lying to appease my troubled mind.

I had felt a hand caressing me, touching me, like my husband used to do. I know what I felt, I know what I saw, I know what I heard, and I know what I smelled. A sudden realization came to me that I didn’t quite want to face. I had a dream last night. I dreamt of my husband, again, and we were in love, like when we were young.

He made love to me with such rough passion I had woken with a start. Was it really a dream? Is that how the scratches on my arm got there? With my breathing coming in short gasps, I needed to calm down or I was going to have a massive coronary. I reached for the bottle of prescription sleeping pills my friend Dana had given me and then thought against it. As much as I’d like to, I couldn’t go doping myself up when all of this is going on. I needed my head as clear as it could be, under the circumstances.