Visitor of the night

  In the cramped darkness, I could hear faint shuffling sounds of her taking out something from her bag. I knew what she took out -- it was a box of fire matches. With a flick of her wrist, the matchstick scratched against the box, thus causing a splash of sparks followed by a sudden flame that slowly became stable under my eyes. It corroded the matchstick into black powder as smoke was formed and moved to and fro. The flame morphed itself from the shape of a flower petal to that of a phoenix while I admired its beauty.

  From squatting on my bed, I felt numb with an uncomfortable current of electricity running through my skin and bones. My fingers made their way amidst my midnight hair. My brain spun and gave me the illusion of flying into the unknown. There was no moon at this time of the month, so the only thing that gave out the light was the matchsticks. Feeling tranquil, I unconsciously inhaled the foul air...

  Cough* Cough* It was painful to choke on the lingering smoke, but it made me regain my thoughts. I am supposed to be alone in my room, but who lit the matchstick?

  Ignoring the lightheaded feeling, I woke up from the dizziness. Immediately, my eyes dilated themselves in size, and every inch of my muscle tightened by itself into a state of alert. I just realized how unnaturally cold my room was. All of a sudden, the alarm clock seemed to be getting louder and louder -- with each click, the greedy shadows illuminated by the eerie flame approached closer and closer. The ominous wind that carried the whispers of the dead banged on my door and strangled everything in its path. All the homework papers were scattered around and they fell like how dying men collapsed on the floor.

  Tick* 

  Then, the clock stopped ticking. Time had stopped.

  In dismal, I gulped down my saliva and suppressed my beating heart as I decided to turn my head toward the owner of those matchsticks. I didn’t know who or what she was. 

  However, just as when I was about to twist my neck, an ethereal and persuasive voice echoed in my eardrum, “Do not be afraid, I do no harm…”

  “Who are y-”

  “Shhh,” she interrupted and got closer to my ears. “If that’s the answer you seek, the flame will answer you. It will answer everything. The matchstick is lightened, and the soul shall follow… Now, focus and greet its call.”

  I sealed my mouth and unknowingly did what I was told. I set my gaze into the flame, accepting its invitation. Its dance movements were as graceful as dolphins moving in an undulating manner under the rising moon. The aura around the flame glowed jade green as if the flame was getting ready to tell its legend, and there, it sang of its long-forgotten tales. 

  “There is a house down this street, right beside the bus stop sign. I live there.”

   “But I heard from the older neighbors that the house was haunted by the spirit of the previous owner and that was also the reason why no construction workers would go and try to remove it. I haven’t got any news about you moving into that house, ” I stated in doubt.

  “How long…” She raised her head and her hair flowed down like a waterfall unrestrained by boundaries, a waterfall that fought for freedom yet obeyed before nature. The profound and mysterious atmosphere seemed to be attracted out from her. It was as if she had seen centuries of events passing by -- day by day, year by year, and witnessing the progress of mankind. “Huh, it has been so many years. I never imagined that it is already lost in the timeline of history.”

  I opened but then closed my mouth. I silently observed the flame. I didn’t know if she was suffering from a mental disorder or the aftermath of a tragedy. Perhaps both. 

  I licked my lips and then whispered, “Although I don’t believe in ghosts, the house is still worn and old, therefore it’s dangerous to live in there”

  “Oh? You care about me?”

  “I-I guess. I mean, isn’t it normal for neighbors to take care of each other? The area I am living in belongs to the older generation, so it rarely gets any people near my age.”

  “Okay.”

  Sign* It seems like she doesn’t get much love from her family, the place she grew up in should be harsh, I thought to myself as I shifted to the left and opened my mini-fridge. “Would you like to have some lemon water?”

  “No, I am fine. I don’t like to drink lemon water that much.”

  I poured myself a cup of pre-prepared drink. I took a small sip of lemon water like a gentleman I was taught to be. The fridge didn’t work that well, the temperature was barely acceptable to refresh my mind. If only there were ice. 

  “Do you want some ice?” She had that all-knowing smile on her pale skin and she gently tapped on my cup with the tip of her fingers.

  Clink* 

  In the next second, when I glanced back at the cup again, there were several ice cubes floating around the surface, as if they had always been there. 

  Seeing that, my brows narrowed into a ‘v’ shape and I couldn’t help but frown. I averted my eyes to her expression, I saw many things on her face, but the most evident one was fear, the fear of being rejected and despised by others. 

  I held the cup with both hands and rocked it to make the ice cubes tinkle against the side. With empathy, I smiled as asked, “That’s a very nice trick! Do you know magic? By the way, the mysterious appearance you made was also very cool.”

  She looked at me with surprise, disbelief, suspicion, and finally, she chose acceptance. “Thank… you for liking it. Other people hate me when I do magic. They called me a witch who misleads people to darkness. Since my relatives passed away early, only rats and insects would accompany me every day. Th-Those people even used the ‘swimming test…’” After saying that, jewels of tears rolled on her delicate cheeks. As if they were contagious, more and more flowed down her face. 

  It was only when I heard the babbling sound of droplets of tears crashing down on the floor, did I finally come back to my senses. “Hey, don’t cry. Why are they even doing this to you? Who are those people? I really want to go and beat them to the floor!” 

  The swimming test was a rather old practice where the crowds dragged the accused witches into a river and drowned them. If they floated, they would be considered as a witch, but if they were to sink to death, they would prove their innocence. 

  What kind of people would do that? That’s just inhumane! How did she even survive that? I drank half of the cup in one go and pinned it down with immense force. I furiously vented my anger by punching the air with my fists. I watched her crying until blood ran up to her skin. She kept a cold side to outsiders in order to protect herself from harm, yet she still tried to sound kind to gain the recognition of others. She has my respect.

  When she finally stopped crying. She held my hands on top of hers. I didn’t feel anything, it was as if I was touching air. She carefully questioned, “Have you ever experienced something like this?”

  I hid my eyes from hers and exhaled air from my nose. Her question made the feather that I had been carrying into an unbearable mountain. To tell the truth, I was afraid. To tell the lie, I was glad. I could tell her no and make up tall tales about the beauty of the euphoria. However, I knew I couldn’t escape from that dark side of the world if I ever stepped foot into society. 

  “Ancient Philosophers called humans as rational and pure beings, but that is only to refer to the short time of innocence that only happens to newborn babies. In the stone age, when a man with no arms or legs came to them, they would use him as a lure for predators. In ancient Rome, when the same situation happens, they would tie him up in the center square as a subject of ridicule. In society today, a ‘useless’ person is more likely to remain useless because they have that flag set up for them. Falsehood has polluted people’s thoughts, blinded people’s eyes, clouded people’s judgments. You may not agree with me, but those are the words from my heart.”

  “Hahaha,” she laughed loudly and paused. “You are very interesting, it’s a pity that we might just as well never see each other again.”

  With that, she turned into a steam of mist, her soul soared toward the sky, ready to return to her rightful place. The only thing that proved her existence was the voice that resounded in my room, “Thank you, my neighbor.” 

  I bitterly smiled because we never truly introduced ourselves. Despite what she said, I had a feeling that we would definitely meet again.

  Flame flicked, flashed, faded. Soon, the last source of light disappeared as the matchstick withered away along with the wind, but the loss of flame was immediately replaced by the first daylight of the horizon. 

  I stretched my arms and yawned as always. Opening the window, I saw that the house down the street was replaced by a tree. Its legs reached deep down into the earth, its body remained steady and straight, and its olive hair glowed brightly virescent. The tree’s healthy skin reminded people of vitality and hope, and its branches seemed to cover the entire sky. It commanded the light to gather around and summoned the shadows to provide a home for all the homeless flowers and grass. 

  I stood up and walked away while mumbling to myself, “What does identity have to do with personality?”

FIN