Secret of the Hallway

“Hey, can you keep a secret?”

It was 10 in the evening. There was no one in the office but empty desks and narrow hallways drifted with crumpled scratch papers thrown by some of the laziest writers and editors in the city. There was no way of knowing what else was sneaking through the shadows if not for the six light bulbs flickering in the long hallway, their hollow rhythmic noise echoing danger in the darkness.

“Got any ideas for your next novel?”

I was startled by this interruption. I turned around and saw Havanah holding her favorite Hello Kitty mug with her right hand, and her left hand combing irritably through her long disheveled brown hair.  I could see a red stain on her Thenar webspace, that skin between the thumb and index finger, maybe she fingered her tint again, smothered it across the flesh, and painted it on her lips in careful but menacing strokes.

“What are you drinking this time? It smells like ginger,” I plastered a big smile, hoping to stray her away from that same question she had been hovering for a month.

“This is chamomile tea with ginger and lemon,” she replied excitedly.

I sighed.

She went on discussing the nutritional benefits of drinking chamomile tea, that it relives her tension and helps her sleep for more than 5 hours which is actually a blasphemy since she always leaves her bedroom lights on.  She sipped her tea in between her sentences, my heart was pumping louder every time her bare lips touched the rim of her mug. Heat and moist were swelling in my body as I saw her fingers curl up with every word she uttered, my hands on my back were staggering to mimic her movements, like fingers playing up and down the scale, crescendo after crescendo of inner torture.

 But then, there was a voice murmuring and beckoning me to move closer to her, to lay my hand on her thick thighs, to swathe my arms around that tiny waist, to breathe into the fleshy earlobes and hear her whimper and moan with ecstasy…

“The mug is luckier than you,” the voice mocked me with its usual shrill voice.

“If you are brave, go after her,” a pause “or else, I will do it,” the voice cackled, its sound coming from Havanah’s back and as it grew louder and louder, the voice formed a shadow of a deformed head wobbling on top of a slim towering figure. It stepped forward to Havanah.

“Anyways, I think we need to collab. I am thinking of writing about a society wherein all males magically hibernate once a year and all the females can just do their thing. What do you think?” Havahah asked, her eyes now as bright as the sunset.

“That’s interesting, Havanah!” I agreed.

She was looking at me straight, maybe she could read what is on my mind. I had to act fast.

 “Hmmm. What will you do if that happens, tho?” I teased her, progressing one light soundless step at a time, like a feline ready to pounce its prey.

“I might sleep with…” she paused, her hazel eyes shift their gaze towards my lips. I could almost smell her warm chamomile breath, that scent reminding me again of a memory which haunted me for the past 30 years.

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She braids my hair while I am sitting on the yellow wooden swing which my father built under the oak tree. I’ve been waiting for my father since yesterday but mother says he is going to be away for a long time.

“One day is a long time,” I told my mother. 

“Darling, would you like me to sing the lullaby?”

I nod. She moves in front of me, kneels, her yellow dress touches the grass; she pats my head while she sings in her sweet high tones.  I close my eyes oblivious to the world around.

Sleep, my beautiful baby,

Hold my hand, the world is scary

Papa went to the mine

Mama will stay home

to drive away the monsters from tombs

Sleep now, my darling

Mother watches, sleep peacefully.

I’ll sleep beside you later, silently.

 “Come sweetheart, the water is cold. Must be nice to take a dip.”

I open my drifting eyes, she smiles.

She takes my hand and we walk towards the lake, the sun is settling down, hues of red, orange and yellow varnished the sky, birds are flying up north, probably to their nests, eager to feed earthworms to their starving chicks; I sniff the familiar smell of the lake, a musty, earthy odor, but sometimes it smells like the egg my mother feeds me when I forget to turn off the lights.

 “Sweetheart, let’s go into the lake.”

“Mother, it’s cold.”

The coldness of the soil and the water seeps into my bare feet.

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  “sleep with whom, Havanah?” I whispered. I stopped walking. She looked beautiful from a closer distance.

Her long legs closed the gap between us, her red pumps summoning a delicious clicking sound with the step. She playfully unbuttoned her see-through long sleeves, the hallway a runway to her foreplay.

 She faced me, an inch close and she said,

“you.”

I grabbed her mug and smacked her head one time, two times, three. I lost count. Fresh blood trickled down her head, her face vanquished with shock and, what do I smell? Fear? Lust? She slid down in a slow motion, her hand clutching my pencil cut, pieces of the broken mug tear up her skin as she finally collapsed on the floor. Her body slammed loudly into the ground.

I spread my legs and sit on her neck. I picked up the bits of the broken mug sticking on her face and I munched these, I could finally devour her. I pricked her veins with the sharp edge of the ceramic and a fresh fountain of blood gushed out. I savor the sight of death closing in.

I looked ahead and the towering shadow which was looming around a while back was walking away -- its deformed head was shaking in frenzy as it disappeared into the edge of the hallway.  It will be back. I knew it. It will be back.

I looked down and saw the lifeless Havanah.

“Havanah, this is the real lip tint,” I declared.  “Watch and learn.”

I laid my fingers on her head and coated this with her blood, warm and sticky. Afterwards, I painted her dry patchy lips with the blood - nice, bright, sultry,– the color she always wanted to achieve. Oh, I knew that. I saw her in the shops hoarding lots of these, and I figured out that she kept buying because she could not find that perfect shade of lip tint.

“Too bad, Havanah, you can’t see this shade of lip tint I made just for you,” I laughed and pinched her face.

The six light bulbs are still flickering in the hallway, their hollow rhythmic noise much louder this time. I stood up and went to start writing my book.

“All males magically hibernate once a year and all the females can just do their thing?”

Sounds cool. I stole one final glance at her and chuckled.

That was three days ago. Tell me you’re keeping my secret or else. …