Part 1 of a 3 -part story
Tap! Tap! Tap!
The gentle tap at the window broke Anita’s sleep. Disgruntled, she rubbed her eyes. It took her a moment to open them. “Must be that darn pigeon again,” she sighed to herself.
She decided against turning on the bedside light, knowing it would fully wake her, something her doctor had warned against. She gingerly parted the curtains.
Her bedroom window opened to an idyllic view of the neighborhood park. Anita loved waking up early to sit by the window with her morning cup of tea. But at night, the shadows of the trees seemed more ominous, especially during winter when the shadows grew darker, malevolent, almost like a demon waiting to devour her.
There was no bird around. Anita felt the hair on her arms rise, goosebumps prickling her skin. Did she dream it?
These thoughts often seemed too real to her, something her husband attributed to an overactive imagination. Good for him, he hadn’t been her childhood friend. She forced herself to look away and repeated the affirmations her therapist had suggested. After all, it was all in her head!
It must have been a dream, the same dream from a time that felt too ancient.
Nonplussed, she registered the absence of her husband, his side of the bed looking as spartan as it had in the morning.
Sighing, she put on her slippers and dragged herself to the study where her husband was often found.
Seeing the study light on, she entered without knocking, ready to tell her husband off. He needed to take it slow. They were both hurting. While Anita found her remedy in cooking, Nitesh drowned himself in work.
Only last week, he had given her a scare when she found him snoring away in the study after a fitful night’s sleep. Her sleep had only recently improved after renewing her medication. She squirmed at the thought of the restlessness the dark always brought.
The study was Anita’s creation, conjured after watching many period movies. While their apartment’s design was minimalistic, their study looked like a setting from a period drama. It was filled with mahogany and ornate furniture, with a huge wall-to-wall bookshelf featuring a marvellous collection of hardbound covers.
The study table was littered with her husband’s notes, and an overflowing ashtray on the right end always infuriated Anita. “It’s a fire hazard,” she had yelled at him on numerous occasions, even mock-throwing it into the smartly camouflaged dustbin on the side in one of their lighter moments.
The bathroom in the study was occupied. That’s where he must be, she thought.
“Coming to bed?” she called out loudly enough to be heard over the running tap.
There was no response.
She knocked again, a little harder. If Nitesh was inside, he was choosing to ignore her.
Sighing, she shuffled back to her room, trying to ignore the hushed conversations between her husband and HER.
The room had grown colder, the air thick with what appeared to be a thin layer of mist. It was the middle of December, and the outside world looked dead asleep, but sleep had deserted Anita for the night.
After twisting and turning for another hour, she decided to wake up for good. She went to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. The study was locked again, she noticed. Emboldened by her awakened mind, she decided to try connecting with him again.
She knocked on the door, but there was still no answer. The silence was deafening. Anita’s heart pounded as she turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked this time. Slowly, she pushed the door open, the creak echoing in the stillness.
Nitesh was still not in the study, but the lights were off; the pale glow from the corridor filtering through. The bathroom door was ajar, and the tap was no longer running. Panic set in as she scanned the room, her eyes falling on a shadowy corner where something seemed out of place. A chill ran down her spine as she realized that the tapping sound might not have been a dream after all.
To be continued…..
Fingers in symphony 