Isaiah n Terence
            Her usual lavender scent filled me again, but all I could think of was the smell of the decomposing skull in the secret room. Her voice reaching my eardrums but all that came to mind were the screams of her victims as the coup de grace was delivered. The sight of her beautiful appearance, replaced by the illusion of a woman whose hands have been stained by the blood of innocent men who only wanted to know that they were worthy of love. I just needed one thing so that I could justify my actions and I knew the very means of obtaining that evidence.

“Dear, would you mind jotting down something for me?”

“Sure honey, what is it? Hold on, let me get a piece of paper and pen.”

As she finished writing, she gave it to me and asked what it was for. I studied it carefully, looked at her in the eyes for one last time and it was then I knew that it was the right thing to do.
           



Isaiah n Terence
            People believe that when an individual enters a stage of extreme shock, you become immobilised and they lose close to all sense of coordination and control over their own bodies. In fact, they will be filled with so much fear that it is considered a privilege to even let out a scream. That was what exactly happened to me. My mind blanked out on me. Is that a human head that I was looking at? I reasoned with and thought to myself that I could be imagining things. Maybe it was supposed to be a prank for Halloween, to scare the neighbours’ children while they were out trick-or-treating around the neighbourhood. I took a few steps closer into the room and then I ran out, holding back the urge to throw up. The slight trace of the scent of decomposing human flesh was unmistakeable and although the person did a decent job in preserving it, it was not enough. Maggots were starting to appear on the surface, digging and crawling around, digesting anything that they came across and in a matter of days, putrid odours would be emanating from it, only to be blocked out by the shifting slab of six-inch concrete. Covering the remains of the unfortunate victim with my towel, I quickly shifted my attention to the other things that were in the room. I acknowledged the presence of a worktable to my right and as I made my way towards it, what I saw sent chills down my spine and made my blood curdle. Pictures of me, circled in red, were scattered all over the top. My routines, sequenced chronologically with notes scribbled all over the place, essentially showing and notifying the intended reader how I behaved and structured my lifestyle. While I was rummaging and sifting through the pile of pictures and documents, a newspaper cutting caught my attention and seemed so familiar. After spending a few seconds trying to recall where I saw it, my heart sank. It was yesterday’s paper and the heading read:

            “REMAINS OF MAN UNEARTHED AFTER 2 YEARS, FIANĆE STILL MISSING”

My hand shook as I started reading the rest of the article and I continued until I came to a part where a picture of Paige was staring right back at me. I was horrified. Turns out that the man’s missing fiancé is currently living, eating and worse, sleeping with me for the past six months. I refused to believe what I read. There could be another person in the world that was identical to the love of my life or maybe the room had a bad lighting and my imagination was working overtime after discovering a decomposing head in the depths my very home but I could not lie to myself any longer as I knew that an individual’s social security number cannot be changed so easily and I was reading the article directly under a table lamp. There were older cuttings, dating to about a year back with her pictures on it and all the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place.  My girlfriend was a budding serial killer and a smart one too. She did not confine herself to a single location and she chose her targets wisely. She picked the ones who had a low-profile in society, the ones who were seldom noticed. Now I knew why my face was circled in the pictures, my life all planned out like how one would program a robot and why she did not choose to kill me in my sleep. No, she was too intelligent for that sort of barbaric and crude modus operandi. Why get your hands dirty when you could pay a thug few hundred dollars to do the job and at the same time stage your own demise? Why step into the fray and run the risk of getting caught? As a matter of fact, it was her decision that we settled down in this house. Had she known about this room all along? I could not help thinking to myself how many ways of murder she has already planned within the four walls and it sickened me to think that after the deed was done, she kept “trophies” of her victims which was a twisted way to remind herself of her successes. Then I heard a sound of our front door being opened and closed, indicating the presence of another human being. It was probably Paige coming back home, unsuspecting of my recent discovery of what she has tried to conceal from me since we got together. I panicked and quickly ran out of the door, pushing the lever so that the wall could slide back into its original position. Praying that the ominous grunting could not be heard by anyone and once the wall was back in place, I quickly rotated the showerhead to look normal once more. As I was getting dressed, I reached for my gun that I had stashed away in my drawer in anticipation of a situation which would call for it and it seemed to me that this would be the time where I would need it the most. I took a deep breath, kept the small handgun in my pocket, muttered a prayer and went downstairs to check if my assumption was true and there she was smiling at me as I walked down, only this time that smile will be her last.
Isaiah n Terence
            I woke up the next morning with a pounding in my head.  I shrugged it off and although it was a little early to be up on a Saturday and instead of going on my routine hourly jog and a visit to the gym, I got dressed in my sports attire and headed to the basketball court for a few pick-up games to invigorate myself after a bad start to my long-awaited weekend. After spending some time sweating things out, I smiled and felt satisfied with the way I played the game, knowing that I’ve come a long way since the day I first picked up the ball a few years back when I used to ask myself if I should bring a gun whenever they asked me to shoot the ball. As I made my way back home, I could not help grinning and wondering how happy Paige and I would be given the extra time we would have later. We have already postponed a few activities that we were supposed to be doing together due to my excessive and ridiculous workload and I realised that the lack of inadequate quality time was starting to get to her. I opened the door jovially, expecting to see a surprised look on her face but I was greeted with silence. The house seemed to be void of any signs of life and the quietness in our house was unnerving to me. Usually, she would leave the radio on or at least the MP3 player so that it would mislead would-be thieves to think that there are people in the house plus, basketball scores and latest reports are not something that an avid NBA fan like me would want to miss. I called out her name to check if she was home but there was no reply coming from the room nor the kitchen or even the garden in our backyard so I thought to myself that maybe she was out with her friends for breakfast. I decided to get changed out of my clothes and took a shower so that we could maybe go out, grab some lunch, do some shopping and spend the rest of the evening together strolling in the park. The sound of water rushing through the showerhead helped break the tension of silence around the house and as I was preparing to step in, I had a nagging feeling. Something was not right but I could not nail it down. I looked around nervously to see if I was being watched but then I came to the sudden realisation that that “something” was horribly out of place. Our toiletry rack which we usually placed our soaps and shampoos had disappeared. You may call it paranoia or just brush it off as something trivial or silly but I chose not to do so. That very rack was riveted into the wall by the previous owner and for those who do not know what a rivet is; it is a permanent attachment to a surface which you cannot simply remove. Even if you managed to, it would have left markings and holes on the wall like how all screws and nails do but that part of the wall which I was staring at was a clean slate. It was as if the wall was brand new. I walked over to it to get a closer look and then I noticed that there were fine lines that formed a rectangular shape which fitted the size of our rack inch for inch. I tried tapping on it, straining my ears to hear for any sounds that might indicate a hollow orifice behind it but since my effort was in vain, I resorted to gently pushing and prodding the panel and the most surprising thing happened. The sound of rushing water ceased and the showerhead started to rotate, forming a lever-like apparatus. I was dumbstruck. How could this contraption stay undetected throughout the months we’ve been here but most importantly, who created and left it behind? I pulled the lever without a moment’s hesitation and the walls began to grunt and shift heavily but steadily. When they stopped, I discovered a dark, hidden room which was as big as the room Paige and I were sleeping in and I stared into it, trying to make out the outlines of the objects in it. Initially, I thought that I was looking into a mirror of some sort but what I realised hit me like a speeding truck. Where was my body?
Isaiah n Terence
There it was again. Witnessing one of God’s greatest gifts to mankind, this caught and still catches my heart till today. It was indeed the best curve, in my opinion, to find on a woman no matter what time of the day you choose to look at her. She was running towards me with her arms wide open, expecting me to catch and draw her into my embrace. The enticing scent lavender filled my nostrils as I ran my fingers through her long hair, the sound of her voice reaching my eardrums as soon as I walked through the door and the very sight of her beaming visage, what more could a man ask for in life? It took me a considerable amount of time wooing her but hey, it was worth the wait and effort. Not that we are married but being more than “just friends”, I think I would call that a good start considering the fact that I’m not considered to be the best catch in town, not especially with my messy appearance and shy personality. As a matter of fact, I never expected it to work out as we come from two different worlds. She’s beautiful, witty, outspoken and I’m just your average Joe who just so happens to come from the same local university as she did. I could go on about how we met and what I did before we got together but that would just bore the readers. After giving her a peck on the cheek and leaving my belongings by the stairs, I collapsed onto the sofa and started ranting about how my boss was treating me unfairly and all the trivial things in life that annoyed me throughout the day. Being the patient listener, she quietly listened to what I had to say, giving the occasional sympathetic gesture of holding and squeezing my hand, telling me that everything will turn out to be what God would want it to be in time. Feeling better, I decided that it was her turn to receive my attention and so allowed her to pour out all that was on her mind so that we could exchange roles and ease her worries of our on-going financial worries and situations. With bills piling up to your neck, it does not help when your boss refuses to give you your expected salary promptly at the end of each month. We sat and talked close to an hour regarding these issues and then we decided it was better to leave such matters aside for the time being and concentrated on the current dilemma which was our dinner. I asked her to head upstairs and get dressed as it was decided the day before that we would go to a restaurant for our weekly candlelight meal tonight so while she was busy changing, I flipped through the newspapers, scanning for interesting headlines and articles that were printed in that day’s edition and a particular heading came into my line of sight.

“REMAINS OF MAN UNEARTHED AFTER 2 YEARS, FIANĆE STILL MISSING”

Just as I started reading, Paige walked over and checked to see if I was ready on my part. Folding the papers, I nodded and we left the house immediately so as to stop the growling from both of our stomachs. That night in the restaurant, we reminisced on how we first met. It was really surprising that throughout the years of our courses, we have never met until we bumped into each other about half a year ago in a bookstore five blocks away. We laughed and talked and enjoyed ourselves until it was almost time for the restaurant to close for the night. After paying the bill, we went for a movie in a mall nearby and by the time we got home, we were already too exhausted to even walk upstairs into our bedroom. As I lay on my bed and started to doze off, I thanked God that He gave me such a precious jewel that I never expected to find before I met her but as they usually say, it is always calm before a storm.
            
Isaiah n Terence
Lub-dub.

Lub-dub.

***

I was very excited when I found out that I had been invited to one of the biggest and liveliest party in town, hosted, no less, by my former classmate and her multi-millionaire family. It was the talk of the neighbourhood for weeks and as the date drew closer, I became hyped. On the day itself, I specifically bought a new set of clothing just for the party and admired my sense of style in the mirror before grabbing my car keys and prepared to go. I know you told me to be a little more thrifty, Mom, but forgive me this time.

“Remember, do not drink and drive,” my Mom’s voice resounded in my head. “Do not drink and drive,” I repeated and exhaled.

I parked my car nicely some distance away because, even though I was early, the place was already packed. I took out a small mirror and scanned myself just to ensure that I was at least well-groomed and presentable. Before I started walking to the party, which was to be held in their backyard, I took out a small cute hairpin with a strawberry motif and attached it to my fringe. How do I look, Mom? Glancing over my face once more, I finally decided that I was ready to go.

When I arrived, it was as if the party was already going on in full swing. There was loud music being played through huge speakers by a famous local dee jay, people were crowding the dance floor and getting low, waiters were carrying glasses of wine and hors d'oeuvres on trays, and there was even a chef roasting a lamb over a fire. I met a few friends and we started to party ourselves.

I was getting high on the environment when someone offered me a glass of lager beer. Although it had only a minimal amount of alcohol in it, I knew deep down that if I were to accept that glass, it wouldn’t be the only one I was going to have that night. And yet, I was seriously considering it. After all, everyone drinks and drives anyway. Why couldn’t I? I reached out with my hand to take the glass.

***

Lub-dub.

Lub-dub.

***

“Do not drink and drive,” I could hear my mom’s voice resounding in my head. I snapped back and gained control of my logic and reasoning again. I politely declined the glass and took some Sprite instead. I felt proud of myself, the way you used to tell me I would, that I didn’t drink and drive although some people think I should.

The party ended without a hitch and the people started to leave. They drove off one-by-one, until the whole area became quiet again. I was completely alert and sober, wits all about me, and ready to return home safely and in one piece. I walked alone to my car, taking in the beautiful night sky and fresh air. And you know what, mom? I never knew what was coming—at least not to me.

***

Lub-dub...

Lub-dub...

***

I found myself lying on the pavement in a pool of my own blood and yet, I wasn’t hurting at all. I overheard distant chatter saying that I was hit by a drunk driver—the voices seemed so far away. It’s funny, really. I tried to laugh at the irony, but I ended up coughing up more blood. My body was turned around as I could see a paramedic inspecting me. He gave up halfway though, and said, “This girl is going to die.”

This girl is going to die.

Why did it have to happen? I did nothing wrong—I even steered clear of any alcohol. And yet, simply because someone else didn’t have anyone telling him not to drink and drive, I’m slowly dying here. I’m sure he—the person who caused this accident—had no idea of what might happen since he was feeling so high. He would be defensive, saying that he didn’t know he would kill someone and that it was really just an accident. Surely, he wouldn’t have the guts to admit that he knew full well that he shouldn’t have driven drunk but did it anyway. “You only live once”? But why did I have to suffer the consequences of his actions?

***

Lub...dup...

Lub...dup...

***

My mind is getting foggy and it’s getting harder to breathe.  My breaths are getting shorter, Mom, and I’m getting really scared. I tried hard to keep my eyes open, but the tears forming sting them. But I keep them open anyway. Because I know the next time I close them, they won’t see anymore. Maybe someone should have taught him that it was wrong to drink and drive. Maybe if his parents had, I’d be very much alive. Maybe I’d be home by now; already taken a bath, and tucked in to bed and ready to sleep—but here I am at the side of the path. So, why do people do it, Mom, knowing that it ruins lives?

I wish someone would wake me up and make this nightmare go away. I wish someone could hold me, and tell me everything would be okay. These are my final moments, and I'm so unprepared.

***

Lub...dup...
...
Lub...dup...

***

I’m coming back home, Mom, I hope you’ll be waiting for me. I just wish dad was here, so I could tell him that I loved him for one last time.
...
...
...


 Written by,
Terence
Isaiah n Terence

“Thank you for flying with us. Have a nice day.”

Nothing but the bustling airport filled with unfamiliar faces greeted me as I collected my luggage and tried to shake the weariness of sitting down for hours in an airplane off. The only consolation I had was that a beautiful air stewardess approached me to offer some assistance. She asked me if there was anything that I needed help with to which I, being a proud native, reluctantly declined.  I knew my way around the city well enough. I walked through the scanners of the airport and found myself in a familiar landscape. Skyscrapers and couture malls blotted the skyline while expensive restaurants lined up along the roadsides.

I dragged my luggage with me out of the bustling airport and made my way to the taxi stand. I could have used the public transport, but I wasn’t in the mood to be packed like sardines in a can to be transported to my destination. Instead, I was more willing to fork out a pretty large sum of money, possibly amounting to about RM 150, if the fares hadn’t changed all that much since my last visit home at any rate.

 After some time, an old yellow taxi pulled up in front of me. Out from it came an elderly man, possibly in his 50’s or 60’s, with a kindly face. 

“Good evening, sir,” he greeted me.  “Where can I take you to?”

“Good evening,” I replied. I handed him a scrap of paper with an address written on it. It was to a small town at the edge of the state. “Are you willing to go there? It’s a bit far off from the city.”

 His face lit when he saw the paper and he smiled. “Of course, sir,” he said. “It’s along the way to my hometown; I was planning on going home after today anyway.”

He helped me with my luggage and I got into the passenger’s seat beside him. It was a pleasant ride, and we had a good conversation going on about the festive season. It wasn’t long before the concrete jungle we were in started to thin and I could see the sky and some trees again. There were quite a number of cars on the road, which was no surprise at all, because most people would be rushing to get back home.

We reached the town about two hours later. I asked him how much the fare was, but he didn’t want to charge me. I insisted, and gave him RM 200 instead. He thanked me and wished me a safe journey home, and I reciprocated the gesture by doing the same. I watched as his car disappeared after a turn and took out my mobile phone to call a friend. While waiting, I took a walk around the area.

It was an ordinary town; it had a small shopping small and coffee shops were aplenty. I remember, as a child, my father would sometimes drive the family out to eat at one of those fast food restaurants. It was simple food but, to us, it was luxurious enough and we would be so happy. Rather than being fancy, it was more for a change of pace; as much as I loved my mother’s cooking, having the same kind of theme for lunch and dinner everyday can get tiring.  Of course, as I grew older and started to live in the big city away from home, the fast food became commonplace for me and lost their novelty. However, home cooked food was the one I started to look forward to each day; they had swapped roles and it was kind of ironic, now that I think about it but that is a story for another occasion.

 After some time, my friend finally arrived in his gray car. It was the car his parents gave him when he graduated from university.  We exchanged friendly greetings and made our way home. It wasn’t long before we left the town behind us and the scenery of small buildings and old cars changed to that of dirt roads, red earth and a lot of greenery. He dropped me off within walking distance from my house, as he stays a little further away from me. I thanked him and wished him well. It was a long journey all the way from the airport, and by this time I was very weary.  However, the arrival to my village gave me an injection of energy.

My village was definitely a sight for sore eyes. There were children playing and laughing together, some of them were even chasing the chickens around and in between the houses. I felt as if the place had been left out of the flow of development; it was the same place I grew up in years ago, untouched by time, except on the faces of its citizens. I greeted the elderly folk as I walked past their houses; I recognized all of them, but I don’t doubt some of them don’t find my face familiar anymore.  After all, it had been a long time since I last came back and I did change a lot.

The feeling of the earth under my shoes was really refreshing as opposed to the usual concrete pavement I was so used to.  I had also almost forgotten how the natural cool breeze felt like as it caressed my face gently. The sound of chickens clucking around as well as ducks quacking in the lake nearby was really music to my ears.

Finally, in front of me there stood a traditional house; it was made of wood and raised a few feet off the ground on stilts. There were elaborate carved patterns on the pillars and balconies as well as the railings. In front, there was a flight of stairs leading up to the front porch, where there was an old rocking chair and a wooden wind chime.  At the foot of the stairs there was a shoe rack with some slippers in it. As I approached the house, I could make out the delicious smell of pandan mixed with cooked rice and a myriad of spices that my family loved to use.  There were no fences, much less a doorbell, but the inhabitants of the house already knew of my arrival. Standing in front of the door were my beloved parents, and behind them my siblings.

I dropped my bags and ran up to my parents and gave them big hugs. I bent down and kissed both their hands. The firm hands that I remember were already starting to spot wrinkles and their beaming faces belie the harsh work they have been doing.

Bu, Yah, adik dah balik,” I said. I hugged them even tighter still. Every child may one day dream of living away from home, but there will only ever be one place one can truly call home; a place where one will always be welcomed back to no matter where one goes or what one does.

“I’m home,” I said. I’m home.

-Written by,
Terence

Isaiah n Terence

I was never good with the horror genre. I was sure of this when, as a child, I watched a horror movie with my family and spent many sleepless nights after that. I remember just lying in bed with a comforter pulled right up to my eyes, looking around and sweating buckets. I would suddenly become aware of every sound around me; my parents locking the doors outside, my siblings’ footsteps, water dripping from the bathroom, the ticking of the clock on the wall, and basically anything would make my heart beat faster. I would endure the torment silently until I couldn’t bear it, and then I would grab my pillows and blankets and rush to my parents’ room and squeeze in between them. I felt safe there. I didn’t know how they were going to protect me from all the horrors of the night but I know that they could, and they would.

Needless to say, I thought that I had learnt my lesson; and I did, for a long time. I abstained from watching anything related to horror for many years. I slowly forgot about all the things that used to scare me and fear left my life.

Many years later, some of my friends invited me to watch a horror movie with them. At first I declined, as my old scars started to resurface. However, my friends, knowing me very well, managed to weasel their way through my defenses and somehow convince me to join them for the movie. Their arguments seemed rational enough. “You were still so young when you last saw a horror movie”. Naturally, I would have become much braver as I grew older. The very minute they got the go-ahead from me, they bought the tickets; there was no turning back, and I wasn’t the kind of person to simply waste money by standing my friends up.

I didn’t know why I decided to watch a horror movie. For some reason, I felt as if everything would turn out fine even though I hadn’t watched a horror movie in years exactly because nothing is ever okay after I watch a horror movie. I should have done my homework on the movie though but I didn’t know why I trusted my friends to choose a movie which wasn’t too frightening and more suitable for me when it was precisely during times like these that I should never trust them. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, though. It wasn’t the first time they tricked me to scare me out of my wits. But on that day, possibly due to being intoxicated in the moment, I felt like I could handle it.

As the lights dimmed and the curtains were drawn aside, a tingling sense of regret played around in my mind. The projector started rolling and emitted a rather eerie clacking noise, which soon blurred into a buzz as colours soon filled the white screen and the opening credits started playing. The camera focused on a small boy, obviously the main character, and his family walking into their new, although rather dilapidated, house as ominous music hummed in the background, signaling that some unearthly, supernatural thing might just pop out at any moment.

As per most horror flicks, the boy wondered around the house alone as his parents were busy unpacking their belongings and finally came across a rather sinister looking door at the end of a long corridor. Oh, dear child, if only you knew you were starring in a horror movie, you would stay away from it. Staying true to the genre, the boy approached the door and it creaked and opened, ever so slightly as the background music became louder and more heart pounding.

I would like to add that at this point, I was using my jacket as a makeshift shield to cover part of my vision, more out of instinct than of any actual use. Maybe it was because I felt safer to be behind something than to be fully exposed to the screen and its horrors.

I wished the person sitting beside me in the cinema was a girl. That way, I could’ve at least grabbed her hand when I was feeling scared and made it seem like it was an accident, or maybe the converse might have happened, and all the better if it did. Sad to say though, my friends were very much males and, not wanting to be misunderstood, I couldn’t rely on them to comfort me at times like these.

Just as my thoughts were trailing away, a scream from the audience drew my attention back to the movie. Apparently something, hardly noticeable, moved past the screen, just for a second, behind the boy but just as he turned around, it was gone. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths in anticipation for a cheap scare. Even the increasingly loud orchestral music seemed to suggest that something bad was going to happen. The boy turned around again and the camera quickly snapped into first person view; there was nothing. Just as everyone sighed with relief, my ears were deafened with a scream from the movie, followed by the crowd. A bony rotting hand grabbed the boy’s leg and sprawled on the ground was its body with its face staring right at the camera. It was hideous, horrendous, and downright scary.

I immediately buried my face in my jacket, but I was too slow as that horrifying image was already burned into my retinas.

I wasn’t really watching the remainder of the movie, to be embarrassingly honest. I just sort of sat there, quivering, with my jacket draped over my back. However, I couldn’t cover both my eyes and ears at the same time, so I was still subjected to audio torture. And of course, with just the sounds alone my already wild imagination went crazy and painted even more pictures for my mind’s eye to see.

It was already night by the time the movie ended. I tried putting on a brave façade in front of my friends after leaving the cinema. I wasn’t going to let them have the joy of mocking me but they saw through me anyway, like they always do. Although most of them were laughing at me, a few of them seemed genuinely sorry that I was so shaken up. I bade them goodbye and went back home immediately. It was a little early to go to bed, but I changed and tried to sleep anyway. Surprisingly, though, I did manage to fall asleep.

I heard a door creak open. I got up from bed and looked intensely at the entrance to my room. My whole body went cold and I stood there motionless for a moment. Suddenly, as if my body started working on all its pistons, I jumped and flew from my room, past the bathroom with a slightly opened door, through the long dark corridor…

My mind had a continuity error. My house didn’t even have a corridor, let alone a long dark one. I froze in my tracks and tried to think of the next best course of action but my brain just wouldn’t function. I heard light and soft footsteps getting closer to me. My whole body was covered in cold sweat. I couldn’t even turn around to face whatever it was that was approaching me. I was finding it hard to even breathe. I felt a chilly breath behind my neck. Something thin and cold touched me. Abandoning all manly pride, I closed my eyes and screamed like a little girl.

I awoke with a start, nearly jumping out of my bed. I panted as I looked around and saw my digital clock displaying the time; it was 3.00am in the morning. I felt stressed out after just waking up from a nightmare like that. I picked up a pillow and cautiously opened the door. I walked, slowly at first, out of my room and looked around. I quickened my pace as my heart started beating faster. I was practically running by the time I reached my parents’ room and opened the door.

I sighed with relief as I closed the door behind me. I saw my parents sleeping calmly in their bed. I slipped myself in between them and curled up in a fetal position and fell into a deep, comfortable sleep. I guess deep down inside, I’m still a small child after all.

Written by,

Terence.