Peculiarity

Red wood floor doesn't necessarily have to be red, at least not a dark eery shade like snow whites apple. She was blessed to have survived poison, but the cadaver on the sequoia wood didn’t have a four leaved clover to rescue her from a knife stab. I was there, watching — through the creak in the wall that was probably unnoticed because of the taupe wall paper of the room. I watched as a man in shady attire stabbed my dear neighbour Ms.Gray. His mannerism revealed that he wasn’t an expert but that personage did not need more than one try to force that middle aged lady to the floor. Later, he very much expectedly bolted out the door. The (for common people) weird part was that I very ordinarily walked out of the hole in the fence that I had initially creeped into.Did not rush, did not freak out, nor did I plan a great escape to ensure no one saw me there. I Crossed the lawn, my mom's vegetable patch and entered the kitchen where my mom was cooking stew, or at least I thought she was.

" Do you have a moment for something serious?" I said.

"Dear if it is serious you need not ask for permission." She said plainly.

"But it is only polite," was my response.

"Oh god Bella! How many times do I have to tell you I am your mother NOT teacher at school whom you must be formal with!" Her voice had climbed to 70 decibel now.

"but I am NOT being Formal..." I dropped the argument considering it was slightly less necessary right now and considered my mother was free to talk. I said,

“Mom I entered Ms. Gray’s home through a hole in the wall and while wandering through the walls I came across a crack and, I am being very honest here, a man stabbed Ms.Gray.” “Oh dear Bella that is a very bad thing to imagine! Are you trying to get my attention for something?” I repeated myself; exaggerating this time (because mom was so empty without it) and ending with ”I Am serious!!” She then looked at me with sober suspicion “Bella dear, when was the last time u took your pills?” I take pills… 

For hallucination. Since after my father died 7 years ago in a car crash I started hallucinating, more commonly referred to as seeing things. Things like spirits, vanishing objects and sometimes even my dad. I once read a book that claimed when you witness the departure of a soul from very close, a part of your soul departs and remains there, in the after life; customarily trying to signal its substantial body. Yes, I was there in the car but that wasn’t enough distort for god… I was driving.

Whenever I hallucinate I know it; immediately after if not at the moment. There is this intense migraine that forces tears out of my viewing organs. It is as though I am being pulled in and out of somewhere; perhaps heaven, perhaps hell. It wasn’t the same this instant. I was conscious and in perfect state of mind. The creak in the panel, the Taupe wallpaper and indelible sequoia each aspect was true. Ms. Jessica Gray was murdered in her dwelling and I was a witness. My hallucinations weren’t an explanation to the murder next door.

“I am not hallucinating mom! If you don’t believe me, come and see for your self!” This time I added an extra sprinkle of her favourite ‘Exag - Flavour’. A moment of silence, followed by her grudging steps towards the backdoor, signalling me to lead the way. I happily did. I decided upon building my case gradually and not give her a heart attack. I approached the wall first. “See mom, why can’t you voluntarily believe me for once?” I boosted clearing the little shrubs hiding the space.”A hole in the wall doesn’t prove murder honey!” She said, in dismay. Sure. After a few moments at the exhibit, both of us walked towards the ‘legal’ opening in the fence and crossed to Ms. Gray’s plot. As we walked past her lilies and tulips mom nervously asked me “Bella are you sure this wasn’t a dream or something?” I paused, turned towards mum and pinched her; she squealed.” "No, it is not. Tested and Proven,” and I continued walking.

I have always been this way if you are wondering. A younger version of me was called an introvert, after the car crash when I encountered a psychiatrist she termed it idiosyncratic behaviour or simply put, peculiarity. I am supposed to have a different frequency of thinking I guess. If thinking logically, analysing situations before reacting and keeping myself clam is categorised ill or inaccurate I have no regrets what so ever. The strongest explanation that I have figured is that people are scared of what is uncommon or seemingly unreal.

When we reached the doorstep I was about about to barge in when my mother thought it isn’t polite to intrude a dead person. After unsuccessfully knocking for someone to open the door multiple times, my mom asked me to open the door. I did. I was so certain of the incident that I didn’t even need to look. I swung the door open and looked at mom with a smirk, “See ? Didn’t I tell you? Now should I call the police or you wanna? ” ; " Halt! Didn't I tell YOU!?Bella honey, I think we should go and get you your pills." I turned. The sequoia had its natural colour; Not the snow white's apple it was supposed to be. I was perturbed, and for the first time in a while I must say. I briskly walked further into the room, mom followed behind unwillingly. I examined the room closely but with no luck.Everything was in the right place.

"This is an odd time to be out of home don't you think."

"She is a young lady, and... Its marked on her calendar. Holiday to Hawaii."

I was amused at how plainly she said this but I guess 'someone has understood my ways'. " Oh come on how is a sticky note enough to fool my Mother!"

"Bella I am telling you for the last time we better get out of here.NOW!"

"Mom plea..."

"Enough. Can't you see? You saw a women dead right? Where is her body? Did she just vanish? Bella can't you for once accept you have problems in your head and you are socially Abnormal!!"

The next thing I remember was being dragged out of the Gray's house.

I had seen a man stab my neighbour with a dagger and I was sure that even if I called the police they would eject me, not on the grounds of lack of evidence but rather 'cause of my peculiarity.