Part 2 of a 3 part story
Nitesh was still not in the study, but the lights were off; the pale glow from the corridor filtering through. The bathroom door stood ajar, the tap no longer running. Panic set in as she scanned the room. Her eyes fell 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.
Anantapur is a small village in the state of Andhra Pradesh, famous for its tiny bananas. It is also where Anita took her first breaths and steps in the front yard of her two-story home. Her family were farmers, and she shared her space with eighteen other family members. Despite the presence of so many humans, she was seen; “evil eye” they called it when you are seen by the unseen. She remembered the exorcism sessions vividly, with a sour taste in her mouth—a period during which she was chained, thrashed, and left hungry for days.
She forced the visions away, letting them retreat into the safety of the locked chamber in her mind. She proceeded further inside the room.
Just then, a low hum broke the silence, emanating from somewhere inside the room. Anita’s heartbeats reached a crescendo. She took a few deep breaths her therapist had taught her, pausing after each inhale and exhale. The hum continued. Her breaths slowed, and her heartbeat receded to a more manageable rhythm—her normal.
She knew the source of the noise. It was her idea, much against Nitesh’s wishes.
The source identified and powered off—a specifically designed sound card. She made a mental note to get it serviced. She looked through the bathroom again; no sign of Nitesh, no sign of any other human, in fact.
Where had he gone in the middle of the night? Perhaps there was an important meeting he needed to prepare for, she assured herself, less decidedly.
He must have left a note—a gentler way for her to know his whereabouts when she would have woken up in the morning.
But why were there little brown stains along the length of her Persian carpet? Were those dirt stains? They weren’t there when she’d vacuumed it—twice, in fact.
The room felt colder, and a thin layer of mist seemed to envelop the space. It was the middle of December, and the outside world looked dead asleep, but sleep had deserted Anita for the night. The chill in the room was more than just the winter air; it felt otherworldly.
After twisting and turning for another hour, she decided to get up for good. She went to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. The study was locked again, she noticed. Emboldened by her fully awake mind, she decided to try connecting with Nitesh again.
As she approached the study door, a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread washed over her. The tapping noise resumed, louder and more insistent this time. Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. Slowly, she turned it and pushed the door open, peering into the dimly lit room.
The shadows seemed to dance and shift, and the air grew thicker than the mist draping the surroundings. She stepped inside, drawing a long breath, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of her husband. The low hum returned, and she felt a cold breath on the back of her neck. There was nothing but darkness.
“Who’s there?” she whispered, her voice loud but trembling. The only response was the echo of her words in the empty room.
She took another step forward, her eyes drawn to the corner where the shadows seemed darkest. Suddenly, the light flickered, and she caught a glimpse of the figure standing there, its eyes glowing like orbs. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stumbled backward, her heart now pounding in her chest.
To be continued…..
Fingers in symphony 