Children of Light

Children of Light

The house stretched on for as far as Lorraine’s little steps could carry her, standing proud in its majesty which was so apparent that the rusting pipes and the weed curling up on the walls went unnoticed; only adding to the splendor of the house. When the house ended, the garden rolled on reaching up to the forest at the back.

Lorraine was perched on one of the low hanging branches of a tree so huge, it seemed to coil up past the clouds. The sun had begun to dip behind the trees as though it was running from the inevitable darkness that was to follow. The sun, in a last bid to paint the clouds and the world in pretty colors, left behind a fiery red tint which faded to orange before being swallowed by the darkness.

Lorraine ran towards the house and just as the clouds were clothed in silver again, she closed the door but there was no reassuring Lorraine that she was safe inside.

*

It was raining that night. Lorraine’s eyes drooped as she fought with herself to keep her eyes open. The book propped open in front of her had a yellow glow owing to the light of the night bulb, it made her eyes itch to look at it. Everything was silent except the soft thumping sounds of someone jumping on the stairs which led down from her balcony to the garden.. She was so familiar to it, having done it so many times since the day she had acquired the talent to walk.

Darkness and children have had an on-going rivalry since times immemorial and Lorraine was not a rebel to the cause. She was a ‘child of light’ as her brother Jason liked to call her and when the children of darkness came out to play, it made her uncomfortable.

Lorraine wished she could jump and play forever in the light as well as the darkness. She wished she was not a slave to lethargy or tied to the bodily constraints of sleep and rest. She had prayed as much to many deities, yet here she was, her senses numbing as sleep rolled over her in gentle waves, attempting to lull her to sleep. But Lorraine wouldn’t sleep because then she would be plagued by the most horrible nightmares.

Who was it jumping on her stairs at this time of the night? She sat up a little straighter. In fact she knew it so well she could tell the person was climbing two stairs before jumping down and repeating the process all over again.

Then it dawned on her; it was past midnight and everyone in her house was asleep who could it be?

Then the soft thumping sounds subsided. Lorraine shook her head; she was very tired but she had to stay awake.

Lorraine turned a page and just then she heard the soft thumping sounds coming from the sofa across her room. She knew the creaking when anyone jumped on it. She was feeling hot before she knew it; she was perspiring and the page in her hand was already bent with sweat from her hands.

She didn’t dare look in that direction though it was too dark to see as the light from her night bulb wasn’t within the vicinity. She took a deep calming breath and fumbled for her cell phone.

The sound stopped. Then a low, ethereal grunting knocked the breath off her body. She dropped her book in haste and the sound woke up her mother in the next room. But she wouldn’t look. Her brother would be in her room in a moment’s time. He would probably switch on the light and then she could see..

The rooms were adjoined, only separated by a bathroom that they both shared. Lorraine’s uncle has a room across the hall. Sometimes, Lorraine could hear him snoring in his sleep, giving the overworked drains a powerful competition.

“I heard it too.” Jason assured me. “The rain is falling hard and it makes all sorts of noises as it is gulped down by drains. Look,” Jason put an arm around me and gently patted the top of my head. “It’s only the rain. Can you hear it? Its pattering down the pipes now and it will groan as it passes down to the drains. When it rains too much, the drains roars at the amount of work it has to do.”

Jason was elder to her and thus, wiser. Lorraine trusted her brother but as soon as he tucked her again and went back to his room she couldn’t help

Lorraine looked around, sweat coming down in beads now on her forehead. But the room looked as innocent as ever. The sofa covers were untouched and there was no one under it. She couldn’t believe it was the same room.

Her brother had heard it too. The sounds outside the house had started again. As though, whatever it was had gone outside again after being disturbed inside. The same soft thumping sounds made her brother peer towards the closed door for a culprit.

“What is that?” she frowned, not very sure now that Jason knew what he was talking about.

“I think the pipe is leaking.” Jason said with feigned confidence.

Her brother opened the door. A burst of cold air jolted the remnants of sleep Just as he had pushed it open, both of them heard distinct sounds of someone running down the stairs in a haste as though in a fear of being caught. Lorraine could imagine a villainous face trying to lie as still as the overgrown bushes of her garden.

“See?” Jason said, closing the door, blocking the steel cold air. “The stairs are old and the branches are creaking as well. Go back to sleep.”

She switched off the light, plunging Lorraine in a shroud like darkness, impenetrable and ringing. Lorraine closed her book and allowed herself to sink back into the cloudy softness of her blankets.

Lorraine bit her lip and closed her eyes; something or someone, she didn’t know what exactly it was, was running a hand slowly up her back. It not only seemed to be rotting but also seemed a store house of creeping insects for she felt them disperse on her back. But she wouldn’t look...no matter how close it reached to her neck she would look...It didn’t matter that the insects were all over her body, probably hairy spiders and prickly caterpillars she wouldn’t look. She hated spiders.

Lorraine felt hot dog breath on her left ear and as the hand touched the back of her neck leaving behind a host of insects in its wake. But she wouldn’t look. It seemed to be rotting for she could smell garbage and rotten meat together which overpowered her own sweet rosy perfume. She was paralyzed with fear. She opened her mouth in an inaudible scream but her voice seemed to have left her throat.

Lorraine heard very fast and ragged breathing accompanied by the same bog breath. The hands closed in on her neck. Fear gave her voice and she tried to scream but it never left her throat: the horrible, rotting hand closed in on her mouth muffling her voice and breath and all.

She was pulled down on the bed. She was choked under the weight of someone sitting on her. Her eyes were streaming with the disgusting smell. Her body itching as the insects clawed on her flesh.

But this time, she couldn’t move no matter how much she tired. She waited for the nightmare to end but it simply did not come.

•

It all seemed like a horrible dream in the morning. She woke up on her bed all right. The choking feeling was gone. The paralyzing fear was gone. But somehow the smell lingered and looking down she realized, with a shock so huge she was rooted to the spot for some time that she was covered with insects off all kinds. Red, black, stout, long...climbing over each other in a haste to taste her flesh. But the spiders were the most visible, standing coolly over the rest, throwing the rest aside whenever they felt hungry.

Lorraine let out a blood curling scream. She jumped out of the bed trying to wipe away the miserable insects off her body calling for her brother all the time. But the insects came right back at her as though children invited to an ice-cream party.

Lorraine screamed several times, calling for her brother desperately. But he didn’t come. Lorraine found this strange, even under the severe strain of being clawed at; her brother had always come running to her at one short call.

Lorraine cried for her brother. She screamed. She hated spiders and her brother knew it. But he still didn’t come. It hurt Lorraine to see the indifference. Her brother had never left her waiting.

But our mind and body adapt to extraordinary situation with wonderful speed. So did Lorraine’s. She doesn’t mind so much that the insects try to eat her flesh; there isn’t much left anyway. She doesn’t even mind the spiders so much now or the caterpillars. But she always feels a little tinge of hurt when her brother doesn’t answer her call. But she hates the disgusting rotting smell issuing in waves from her body.

Lorraine cannot understand why the others don’t talk to her; it might be the smell though. She is so much hurt to see that her family is not trying to find her. Though she has caught them crying at more than one occasion, she is extremely angry at them. Yet, she is full of anxiety for her brother.

Lorraine follows her brother around the graveyard where he goes so often to cry for hours on one particular tombstone. She tries to catch his attention by moving things or tripping him on the way hoping he would remember her little jokes but he simply ignores her with superior ease. She doesn’t understand why he does that, she still cries about it at times. But she is always pacified by a small boy, who is also covered with all kinds of insects imaginable. Still the days have acquired a peculiar blankness and emptiness.

But the Watson family have been plunged into grief at their loss. The reports said the body was perfectly fine or as fine as anybody normally is, except she was dead. They also say that she had a look of horror on her face. But the Watsons’ argue: Whosoever has heard of someone dying of fright?

The Watsons’ have recently been complaining about disembodied screaming and crying in their house. Jason Watson, their son, says that there is a disgusting smell following him around. He says he hears faint buzzing of insects at night when the smell is strongest.

But during rainy nights Jason complains he cannot sleep due to the thumping sounds on the stairs outside. He sometimes feels as though insects are trying to crawl on him. But, the insects and sounds are driven away by a scream of terror and then, followed instantly by someone running up the stairs followed by another person as though chasing the former.

Jason gravely adds that he catches a wisp of rose perfume before the running fades away.

*

Lorraine had found her way into her brother’ room again. It was not her intention to frighten him to the extent of him losing sleep altogether. But Lorraine found a twisted sort of solace in his despair; she longed for his company as he did.

In the morning, she had watched from under the bushes as Jason cried on the breakfast table. Mother had huffed, patted his head and asked him to get enough sleep. Lorraine had never liked her; she had turned a deaf ear even when Lorraine had talked about the Children of the Night.

Jason was hunched over a paperback book, his finger gently running up and down its broken spine. His eyes darted towards the door often as though he expected company.

When Lorraine got a little too close, the insects inhabiting on her body rushed to Jason, overpowered by the smell of fresh meat. She stumbled back with a light thud, afraid Jason would be devoured too.

Would it be too bad though? She was finally free from the shackles of sleep. She could be on constant vigil and guard herself against the evils of the night. She knew it in her heart that Jason desired that too but she could not bear to put him through the same ordeal she had gone through.

Jason had finally nodded off into dreamland, the book lying abandoned and sad on his lap. The light from the lamp made his skin look yellow, tired and inhumane.

The wood plank on the floor creaked. The footsteps were muffled by socks. I ran to and fro. Should I run back down the stairs lest I should be seen?

My uncle was a balding man in his late fifties, his spine tired from the weight it had been supporting for so many years. It was a surprise it did not creak like the drain.

He tiptoed across the room, gently removed the book from Jason’s lap and got under the covers with him.

A roar initiated and died in my throat. Jason’s eyes were shut tight but the look of horror was etched on every vein on his face. A tear traced its way down the side of his face.

It was not a hard decision at all. Jason would always be a child of the light. She closed the space between them, muffled any weak scream that had been building up in her uncle’s throat and allowed the innumerable insects to reign over his body. But her uncle had always been strong. He jerked up suddenly, misbalancing her. Lorraine put up a fight as she should have a very long time ago. Her scream was louder and more terrifying than her uncle’s as she slid a hand over his face and pulled him down with her.

She heard Jason jump from the bed. She thought she heard him call her name out too. But it did not matter now. Come morning, he would have ruled it out as a particularly horrible nightmare and given a gift of a few more years he would forget about it completely.

Lorraine had chosen her hell. Lorraine felt like a imposter, trying to keep the darkness at bay whenever it dug out its claws.