"He
have always been there for several hours”, said she.
I
walked feebly to the window, and stared at him. He was standing and leaning over
the fence of the veranda, looking at nothing but the emptiness of the dark sky. He was a very
calm young man at about 25 years old, looked tidy with a black coat. I sat on the window frame, took a gulp
of the champagne; then I asked her, “Who is he? He looks happy over there.”
She
glanced over the window and sighed, “He looks happy physically, but look into
his eyes; he is psychologically sad, tortured by something—“
“How do
you know about that?” I interrupted. “How can you be so sure of him? You do not
even know him.”
She grinned,
“I know him pretty well; I just know.” Then she sat on a chair in the middle of
the room, smoldering a cigarette in between her two lips. She looked into my
eyes and said, “I think you know him too; take a look at him.”
I was
flustered, “No, I don’t”, I replied.
“Look
at him!” She retorted.
“Okay..
Okay”, I meekly looked at him. Although I did not know him, he looked familiar
to me as if I knew him well. It seemed that he reminisce me of something happened
very long time ago. This room seemed like to have filled with a gray mist that
blurred my vision and stung as I breathed as if something was pressing me. I
felt uncomfortable.
“Have
you got anything of him?” She startled me.
“No”, I
snarled; then I added, “How long am I going to be stuck in here? Let me out of
here! I need to meet Patricia; she must be waiting for me by now.”
“You
cannot. You know this game pretty well, and if you went out this room; you know
that it will bring no good. Patricia will be fine as long as you behave well.” She
snapped as she stubbed out her cigarette on the floor.
“What’s
happening with her? If you ever touch her, I—“
“Shut
up! Just look at the man on the veranda!” She screamed.
I smelt
something fishy on her; how could she talk so harsh to me, I had just known her
for a few days. She might be a cold-blooded criminal or fugitive. It was
written all over her face, the evil inside her. I had to fight for my life and
for my fiancée, Patricia, but it had to be well-planned. I would just pretend
to meekly follow her game and by the time, she is the one who will play on my
game. I turned my head over the man in the veranda once again and kept my eyes
on him.
Nothing
happened for the first 15 minutes, I almost fell asleep. But there came a young
lady with a white blouse, I supposed she was the young man’s girlfriend, or his
wife perhaps, for they wore the same rings on both of their ring finger .They
was talking and laughing when suddenly the man’s countenance changed
dramatically from a very gentle to be somewhat ghastly, his eyes bulk, his
grimaced with a bloodthirsty look. In infatuation, he started punching the young
lady on the face, and soon she lost her conscious. The man then took a knife,
and started mutilating her; the blood splashed all over the veranda, the red
viscous liquid that aroused me to some kind of paroxysms.
“Hey!
Call the police! Call the police!” I screamed at the top of my voice, but she
kept sitting on the chair in the middle of the room, smiling as if she enjoyed
every second of the torturing.
I took a
wooden chair beside her and threw it on the window. The deafening sound of the
broken glass must call the police, for they soon broke into the room.
“Freeze!”
They warned, as pointing a gun.
“That
man, sir, over there—“As I pointed into the veranda, there was nothing, the
man, the blood splash, or anything.
I was
perplexed at how that might possibly happen. I frantically stammered, “It must
be some kind of black magic. There was a murder just now.” Then I glanced at
the women sitting on the middle of the room; and then I muttered, “It’s her. She
must be involved in that murder!”
Then my
mother came after me with a bow head and tears wetting both of her cheeks. She hugged
me, and whispered, “It is all over son, surrender to them.”
“What
are you saying, mom? And where is Patricia?” I asked my mother hoarsely.
My
mother sobbed “She’s gone, son. Mutilated right in that veranda four days ago.”
-- The End--