The start and end of a chapter

Piang! Conk! You know someone is moving in just above you. Screech! You hear the typical sound of a large object, like a sofa, or perhaps a bed, being pulled along the floor. 

As you peer out of your front door for the fifth time in a few hours, you realise you do not see anyone, but only hear them. 

The sounds of furniture from above seem to have stopped, and straining your ears, you hear nothing from below. Strange, you think, there should be some sound from the movers and their vehicles. Checking the lifts, they are hanging still by the strong cords at the level just above you, as shown by the screen display without the moving up-down arrows.

Silence fills the block; there are no door sounds, no screams from the children at the nearby playground, no birds chirping from the rooftop. It is like a blanket of silence covering the block from top to bottom. 

You then tread back into your house, wondering about what your new neighbour will be like.

***

You know he, or perhaps she, is mysterious when he never appears in your sight even once from the start of the month since he moved in. You walk up past his door, but it is closed, leaving a dark, imposing shadow over you; you look up from your window, and like his door, his window is shut too. 

You pick up noises of doors slamming from the floor above you where he lives, but from the voices that ensue that come from the lift landing just above, you can tell that it is the other neighbours on the same floor. Your heart sinks, there is no chance to see who he is, much less his personality, which is something you are strangely desperate to know. 

Upon meeting neighbours from that level he lives on, you query about him, the mysterious one, yet they have nothing to offer: they do not know anything more about him than you do. At that, you thank them, then walk away, disappointed yet yearning to know even more about who he is.

At this point, you do not know why you want to find out more about him. Hospitality, make him feel more comfortable in this neighbourhood? Or perhaps, you are just being nosy, trying to butt into others' private affairs. Whatever it is, you feel a little ashamed, why am I trying to know more about him, you think.

Yet one day after many others of secrecy and opacity, you see him open the window above you. Staring out eagerly against the bright glare of the sun that seems to be just above your head, you see him place his hands on the window still. He is as much a silhouette, as in the burning sunlight. You can make out his shape, but you cannot see his face, much like a figure in the dark, fully cast in the shadow.

He does not seem to notice you at all, for you can never discern his figure turning the head part downwards towards the lower level's windows. He also does not make a single reaction, or gesture, like a wave of hand at you. Rather, he spends the time staring straight out of the window, like there is something very intriguing that you cannot see, but he can, in the straight distance. You squint and squint, but you see nothing, except for the facade of the opposite block, just the nice light blue colour that your block is also painted in. There is nothing, you think, as you begin to glower at the increasingly bright sunlight streaming in copious amounts into your already hurting eyes. 

Finally, his figure disappears from the window, and it swings shut with a clang. You turn back to face your room, everything much darker than before. You shake your head, you are still confused about his behaviour and possible lack of friendliness. In a few minutes, your world goes back to its normal brightness, and you sit back down to do your work again. 

**

You suddenly realise that you are obsessed with him. Hence, you chid yourself for being so involved with him

Yet, after work each day, you specially take the lift one level up just to check on his front door; indeed you peer up from your own window everyday, determined to catch the appearance of his face when it finally appears after a long stretch of disappearing. 

Today, on your way back from work, you see a group of aunties sitting around a table in one of their units. You know that it is yet one another of their weekly, or perhaps even daily gossip sessions where they would exchange hunks of juicy gossip like a bunch of hunter-gatherers, after a long day in the sunset sharing their delicious chunks of meat. As you walk past their open door, trying not to listen to avoid contaminating your mind with petty information about other neighbours, you cannot but help hear them saying this. 

"I think that new neighbour is bad luck!" You hear one of them exclaiming in a loud voice that you cannot avoid.

"Exactly!" They chime back in unison. "Have you seen the increase in black cats since he arrived?" One says, echoing the point.

You freeze in your tracks just beyond the door. You strain your ears, trying to hear what they are about to say. 

"Why so glum?" You hear yet another of them say. You guess that one of them is about to complain about her misfortune.

"We got burgled!" The glum one, you are guessing, laments. "Now that you tell me about that mysterious person, I think he or she must be the cause of it." She continues in an aggravated voice, banding along with the rest of her friends. 

You walk away quickly, pacing upwards along the plain beige stairways. As you walk towards your unit, passing a row of units just like yours, you think about that encounter. 

Opening your front door, you suddenly feel indignant. As you wrench the door open in anger, pulling the keys out in a haste of flurry, you step in with your shoes on. It is after taking a few steps do you realise that you are dirtying your own floor. Upset wells up in you, and in a state of increasing distraught toss your shoes off your feet. You jump onto the couch, laying there as you stare at the greyish ceiling while contemplating.

You remember seeing the resident black cat nursing its identically dark kittens in a bush in a quiet corner of the neighbourhood. It was a month ago, you recollect, around the time when that neighbour moved in. Obviously, it was certain that it was just biology doing its work. 

Yet before you can catch yourself, you continue on. You know that there is one neighbour that frequently leaves her door unlocked for a reason that you still cannot deduce. You guess that she is the one who had lamented just now. Hence, you reason that it was due time that she got punished for her careless acts.

Yet, a pang of guilt pricks your heart. You suddenly realise you are protecting him, defending him from the gossip he has become. Is this your crush? You think. Suddenly, your cheeks are flushed and embarrassment rides over you. You are surprised that you like a person that you have not even met before!

**

You have spent weeks thinking positively about him or her when he appears before your eyes. You have been dissing the rumors that he is a spy of sorts. You, in your reverie, think, that is not possible. Then, you meet him.

You are about to walk towards the lift lobby when he suddenly appears from the lift, carrying a box of sorts. You see a jaunty look on his face when he turns his head in your direction. 

You are about to run over to say hi to him, but his expressions stop you first. He is like a deer caught in headlights, his mouth agape, his eyes looking sickened, his limbs in awkward positions. You are momentarily stunned, but when you regain yourself, he has already recovered before you, and left the area. Dashing up to the lift, you see the display arrow pointing downwards. Too late, you think. He is gone, but your perfect image of him is gone too. At least I know his gender, you think to yourself. 

In your own unit just an hour later, as you try to replay the encounter in your mind, you realise you cannot really remember what he looked like. At that point, you could remember his expression, but now it is slipping away like sand in your hand. His clothing was nothing unusual too, hence, you recollect nothing about it. You suddenly cannot recall what he was carrying. Something brown, you think, but the object does not come to your mind. Just as quickly as you saw him, he has disappeared from your mind too. 

Suddenly, your mind fills with the conspiracy theories you once dissed of him. Why is he so secretive? You think. Is he a spy? Then your thoughts go down the same way as those before have done so. Your opinions of him become more and more negative. You furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, you are so upset with yourself; how could you have misinterpreted his character by so much. 

You are now no longer interested in him, but now your mind darkens at even the thought of him. You cannot believe that you once were obsessed, from a nosy neighbour way, to a stalking way. Hence, you are appalled with yourself, so shocked with your apparent stupidity and ignorance. You begin to question your own sanity, sad that this entire thing had happened.

**

You avoid him for days and days, never going upstairs to check his door, no longer looking up at his window. You do not want to think of him, nor hear of him, or speak to him. Yet, you just have to meet him just 1 week later. 

Funny how when you want to know what he is like, you never see him; but when you try to avoid him, you end up seeing him again. On your weekend stroll down to the playground, just enjoying the cool breeze, you see him sitting at a bench to the side of the silent playground. He is feeding the pigeons that flutter around his feet, pecking at the ground every 5 seconds. He scoops out a handful of yellow grains from the full brown bag, then throws it at the expectant pigeons. They eat it with gusto, as you slowly take a few steps towards him.

"Who are you?" You are close to yelling across the distance as you are trying to keep away in case he is a dangerous person. Defensive stance and aggressive look, you are all ready to run or fight if he turns hostile at your discovery of his secret.

"A human," he replies, not even looking up at you. He continues scooping and scattering the seed, letting the pigeons feast below his feet. You see his calmness, yet you feel that you should beware.

"Why are your so secretive?" You ask due to your sudden lack of words. "Where are you from?" You ask when this ability is partially regained.

His hand freezes in midair, full of seeds in his palm. The yellow seeds glint in the bright sunlight, the pigeons below crowding closer and closer around his feet, their small heads tilted upwards.

He slowly turns his head towards you, the movement so smooth like it is underwater. "I'm no spy. Also, I'm not a criminal."

He sighs, then looks at you with a tired expression like he has done this a million times. "Let's say someone is after me."

You try to ask more, but he is once again focused back on the pigeons. No matter how loud you speak, he seems to hear nothing, hence you receive no response. You realise that any more questions is not going to illicit a greater response, thus you give up, and walk away back home.

But then you think, what is the someone, that is after him?

**

You guess it on they day it arrives. You know what it is when it appears before your eyes. You see a dirty van drive into the parking area below your block. It swerves into the space, the parking skills of the driver are non-existent: the vehicle seems to be crudely thrown into the lot. Then, the door opens, and suddenly a bad feeling; a premonition enters your mind. You dash up to the level above you, and his door is shut once again. However, this time, it is the fear-related kind of lock, not the privacy kind of shut. 

You run back down to your level. When you reach your unit, you are close to slamming the door behind you, panting away. You are afraid that he would fall into trouble, be hunted down by those who have already arrived. In your heart, you know that someone has to save him. Yet, you do not know how. 

Your fear rises with each passing moment. You know that every minute that passes reduces the chances of him being saved. But you do not have to bother about him, your mind chants at you. 

You are trying to sit down and not stare out of the window as the hooded creatures from the van stride towards your block. Calm down, you tell yourself as you lie on the couch and attempt to look at your phone. However, your doorbell rings.

They can't be so fast, you think desperately to yourself. But it is not you who they are looking for, it's him, as you reflexively look towards the ceiling. 

Hence, you stride towards the door as confidently as you can. Bang bang bang! You momentarily jump backwards. Perhaps, it was not the best idea to answer the door. You turn away to place your bottom on the couch again. 

Yet you hear faint noises from the direction of the door, as if someone is desperately whispering for you to let him in. The knockings resume, but you soon realise that they are ones of terror. It cannot be those hoodlums, hence, it must be him! You reason. 

Verifying that it is indeed him through the peephole, you quickly open the door, then close it after him as quietly as possible. He steps in briskly, then hides behind the sofa. “Close the window and curtains,” he tells you. You then do as he commands, casting the unit into darkness. 

"If they come, don't tell them I'm here," he says, worry in his tone. You nod in agreement, but something in you tells you that that may not be the case. Yet, you motion for him to hide in the storeroom in your unit. 

**

You have been trying to get about your usual routine, acting like there is no one else in your unit. Yet, once again, there is loud banging at the door, and this time it is the confident banging of a few bad guys trying to make you open up. 

Casting a glance at the storeroom, you think he knows that they are here. Hence, with a pounding heart, you trudge towards the front door. Pulling it open, you are faced with a bunch of hooded creatures. In all black, they look like bank robbers. You cannot see their face, but yet you can hear them speak.

"Is there anyone inside?" One of them barks.

"Why would there be anyone else besides me?" You try to keep your voice steady, but actually inside, you could collapse from fear. Keep eye contact, don't look afraid, you tell yourself.

They look at each other; you can see the hooded top lumps over the body section moving in different directions. "Let us in, or we will destroy the door!" They threaten.

You know that a destroyed door would be just adding more problems to the already troubling situation. Hence, you quickly unlock the door, and let them come in, hoping that they would never think to look at the storeroom.

You see the few of them scouring your house very carefully. It is as if, you realise, that they do not trust your words.

As you turn back to face them, you see then gathered around the storeroom. With a muted cry, you dash forward to prevent them from looking at the innards of the storeroom. But they throw open the storeroom door with a flourish, seeming laughing at your naivety.

"Who's this?" They taunt as they pull him out by the scruff of his neck. You see that he looks defeated, head hanging downwards like a small child regretting his actions. You are beginning to feel more and more terrified, would they do anything to you right now?

Yet, he motions with his head for you to run. You see that the hooded people are not facing you, hence, you take to the back door and run to the stairways. Somehow, instead of running down away, you climb upwards.

You reach the roof already. Ducking behind an air-con vent, you peer out from the spaces. The night is cool, and the yellow moon is contrasting against the dark blue night.

Then you see the tiny hooded creatures escorting a person into your van. With a vroom, the van speeds away into the night.

As you climb down the stairs catching your breath from the incident, you realise that this chapter with a mysterious figure in your neighbourhood is over.