Paranoid???

She lived in a state of perpetual paranoia or so it seemed. Mama was always looking over her shoulder, peeking under the bed, locking doors and windows and huddling with us in a tiny room every night. I couldn’t understand it, we had a big house with three bedrooms and yet, every night we all huddled together in mama’s room sharing a single bed. We were six siblings and mama. Dad had left us in search of a better life, a better job, more money and the hope of giving us a better life one day.

Every evening at sunset mama would hurry us indoors and proceed to hastily shut all the windows and doors. As I grew older it became my job to shut out the outside word before sunset. All the windows, all the doors. There was no room for error, no time to forget, they had to be closed or unspeakable things would happen, mama warned us. I was sorely tempted to leave them open just for a little while to see what would happen, but the distinct look in mama’s eyes as the sun set every evening kept me from breaking her rules. The curtains had to be drawn too, looking out the window was tantamount to a heinous crime. So, I dared not. 

When everything was locked and we were tucked away safely inside, she would gather us and pray. She prayed for safety and strength and for us to make it through the night and live to see another day. I would look around the darkened house, for every night the electricity would go out, and wondered what it was that she was so afraid of. There was nothing to be afraid of as far as I could tell, but mama was always terrified. She spoke in hushed tones to my older brother Keer and older sister Zeera, whispering things to them, things that were forbidden to be heard by my ears. Often after those conversations, mama would gather us around her and tell us funny stories while Keer slinked away thinking no one was seeing him. But I saw, I listened to those stories and kept an eye on him. He would go to the back of the house and peek through a tiny crevice in the wall. Mama had made that crevice in the wall with a knife, she needed to be able to look outside without being seen. When he was satisfied, he would quietly come back and sit among us. Then he would look at mama and nod and she would smile and continue telling the stories. It was never a happy smile; it was the kind of smile that spoke a thousand words without her lips ever having to separate. None of it made any sense to me, what was he looking for, what had mama so frightened?

Morning would come and life would go on like any other day. There were the chickens and ducks to be fed and cows to be milked and let out to pasture. Life in the country didn’t provide us with many opportunities for lollygagging and so with every new day there were lots to be done and enough to keep you occupied until sunset. During the day mama was always busy, the demands of a farm and raising six children kept her on her feet all day long. But even with all of that she was never at ease, she was always looking over her shoulder, looking for anomalies and listening for any unfamiliar sounds. She would hear things that no one else heard and would warn us to “hurry up and get the cows in and be careful”. Whatever it was that I was supposed to be mindful of, I didn’t know. I saw nothing strange whenever I went to gather the cows and couldn’t make heads nor tails of what it was that she was so worried about.

As is often the case with farm animals, there’s always one that becomes the family pet. That was the case with our Daisy, a beautiful and gentle cow. Her coloring was most unusual, with the exception of her face, her entire body was dark red, so dark that it almost looked black. Her face was milk white with a patch of dark red in the center and she was as sweet as they come, with the best temperament a cow could possibly have. Needless to say, she was our favorite. Mama loved her as much as we did, but I didn’t realize that until Daisy went missing. One afternoon, Keer was gathering the cows when he noticed Daisy wasn’t among them. He came running up to mama, out of breath and panting, “Daisy’s not with the other cows mama” he said. 

The color drained from mama’s face, “they took her, I know they took her” she said. Mama had always been suspicious of our neighbors to the right, the Zoyan’s. They were one of the old families in our village and were known for their dark family history. A great uncle of theirs had been locked up in an asylum and another was a rapist who had terrorized the village until he was captured and sent to prison where he later died. It was rumored that the youngest son Nurvi, who was built like an armored tank and looked like one too, was a bit like his uncles, but there had never been any proof of it. He had an older brother Dijan, who was a known recluse. Dijan never spoke to anyone and whenever you saw him, he would hurriedly look away. 

Nevertheless, as far as everyone knew the family had reformed themselves and were upright citizens, church going people, pillars of the community. However, mama believed that they were responsible for Daisy being gone and she told it to anyone who would listen, but not many people listened to her. A few years early, when mama and papa had first moved into the village there had been a conflict between mama and Mrs. Zoyan, and she went about telling everyone that mama was a bit unhinged. It didn’t help matters when mama had my baby sister Jaiya and suffered for a few months from a nervous condition. Back then no one knew what postpartum was and so mama was looked at differently.

After searching for Daisy for many hours mama went to the village police. They came and looked around the farm, but they found nothing. The inspector scratched his head, yawned a few times and concluded that Daisy must have been taken by wild dogs or some other wild animal. Mama refused to believe that there was no blood or anything else, none of the other cows were hurt, no signs of a struggle, there was nothing. It was as if Daisy had vanished into thin air. She told the inspector that she suspected Nurvi and he looked at her as if she had grown an extra head and shrugged. He told her she needed proof, and she didn't have any. That night mama gathered us and prayed a little harder than she usually did. She cried as though her heart was breaking. There were no stories that night.

The days soon rolled into weeks and the weeks into months, but Daisy was not found. Mama worried more and always looked anxious. She began barring the doors at night, anything that could be shoved against them were used as a barrier. She never slept through the night; she would be up at random times listening to the sounds of the night. She saw many strange things during those hours, but no one believed her. It was not an easy life, but as night ended, so came the day and all of its accompanying responsibilities.

It was almost a year after Daisy disappeared that Nurvi started befriending my youngest brother Soroush. Nurvi’s sudden interest in my brother troubled mama tremendously. He was almost 30 years old and Soroush was a nine-year-old boy, what could they possibly have in common? She warned Soroush daily to be wary of Nurvi, something about him didn’t seem right. His unusual interest in Soroush started to make sense after he told Soroush about the locust tree. There was a massive locust tree bordering our village and the next. It had been there for over a hundred years and was at least 80’ feet tall. The tree was surrounded by dense vegetation, so the villagers rarely went there. I had snuck off a few times and went to the tree and mama had scolded me when she found out, she said it wasn’t a safe place. All of my siblings had done it. Soroush was the only one who had not, him being the youngest, mama kept a strict eye on him. Nurvi told him that there was something worth seeing at the old locust tree and as can be expected Soroush was bursting with curiosity. Soroush was a lovable child and always tried to please others. He didn’t want to upset mama, but he wanted to go to the locust tree. He wondered what could possibly be so bad, it was just a tree, and so he asked her if he could be allowed to go just once. Mama got a nervous look about her and I was sure she would say no, but to everyone’s surprise, she told Soroush she would consider it.

The next day mama took her cutlass and headed for the locust tree; she never went about the farm without it after Daisy went missing. I saw her as she was heading out and decided to tag along. We walked in silence, mama’s eyes darting in every direction. She kept a firm grip on her cutlass, I could feel the tension in the air. I knew there were sirens going off in her head. She was on edge and on high alert. As we got closer to the tree, the vegetation got denser, and mama used her cutlass to clear a path for us. It was slow progress but finally we got right up to the tree and what we saw would forever be imprinted in my memory and yet, it was not the worst of what I would see that day.

There was our beloved Daisy, tied to the trunk of the locust tree with an old canvas rope. The rope was sagging around the tree trunk and skeletal remains of Daisy were attached to one end. She had been tied closely to the tree and then bludgeoned to death. An axe had been used to split her skull open, it had been laid beside her remains. We stood there crying, we knew who had done it, but why? That, we didn’t know. Mama and I went back home and got shovels, then returned to the locust tree. Keer was sent to get the police and when the inspector came, he took notes and said he would talk to Nurvi, he couldn’t look mama in the eyes. After the inspector left, mama, Keer and I dug a hole, and we buried our Daisy. We left the axe and the rope, mama said to leave them there. As expected, the inspector didn’t talk to Nurvi. He wasn’t at home.

That night we all gathered around mama and prayed, there was a certain sadness in our home, a profound one. We all wished papa was with us and everyone took extra care in helping mama to bar the doors. There was a restlessness in the atmosphere, we were so tense that sleep evaded us. The electricity was out as usual and even though the darkness had become a part of our lives, that night was even darker. There was something eerie. It was close to midnight, and we were all awake when we heard a loud explosion. We all ran to the window, the no looking out rule momentarily forgotten. The night sky was lit up by a monstrous fire. The Behrouz’s, our neighbor to the left, their house was engulfed. It had exploded. Running away from the scene of the explosion was Dijan.

The following day the inspector came to our house and asked mama if she had seen anything. Mr. Behrouz was dead; he had been murdered. They had found his charred body after the fire fighters had put out the fire and his head had been severed from his body. He had been killed before the explosion. A propane tank in the house had been used to create the explosion and that wasn’t the worst of it, his teenage daughter Payam was missing. She had been kidnapped and Dijan was nowhere to be found. When they searched his parents’ house, they found a journal he had left behind. In it was a detailed account of all of his activities, his hobbies, his leisure. He had been stalking the village nightly, all of the strange sounds, the creepy shadows at night, it all made sense. It was him. 

Mama was no longer the paranoid one, but that offered little comfort. What would follow next would be the likes of a horror film. Many young girls would be taken and numerous would die, some never to be found again. The villagers, terrified, and in fear of Dijan and his horrific hobbies, are now forced to take a page out of mama’s book. Barred windows, barred doors, forevermore.