Lurking shadows - 2

Read part 1 - here

-----------

Pink was his usual unfriendly self and Mita realized she preferred it that way.

‘Did I even sleep last night?’ she asked Pink who sat ignoring her some distance away. Judging by the weariness that clung to her all morning it didn’t seem like she’d slept any but she remembered nothing of the night which means she probably had.

Mita’s nightshirt smelled of the musty bed and the sheets needed changing but somehow she didn’t feel up to it.

The smell of damp now hung about the whole house and a small wet patch which she’d never seen before manufactured itself on the top corner of a wall.

Small spots that could have been green were they not as black manifested themselves as she stared and they seemed to be growing in size.

This, of course, wasn’t true. That damp patch had always been there, she’d just never noticed it, neither had Anek.

The rains continued to scream and Mita stared at the boxes that piled up to the ceiling.

Where did I keep all these things in my last home?

‘Where was home? Is this home?’

Anek hadn't’ spoken to her all morning after Mita narrated last night’s incident.

‘I’m not saying you attacked me’ she clarified ‘it just felt like it. It must have been a dream.’

Of course, it was a dream. Why would Anek try to kill her, but hadn’t he started acting strange ever since they moved into this house?

Mita asked herself these questions when in fact she should have addressed her concerns with Anek. 

She began unpacking the boxes while convincing herself that everything from last night was a dream.

The walls had seemed white when she’d first seen the house with Anek but today, as she sat sprawled on the floor pulling out timeworn tableware from a threadbare box labelled ‘important items’ the walls were a lacklustre yellow.

Important items?

What was so important about a rusting old skillet and a crippled wok? and why did she even have these things?

Why had she brought these near mutilated pieces of equipment into a new house that had suddenly begun smelling of damp and mould?

Mita sat staring at a cracked cup. She had six of those and none were part of a complete set. They were all different, each cracked.

Bent forks, dull spoons, ladles with broken handles, pots without handles, pans with burnt bottoms.

She pulled out one busted appliance after another damaged equipment followed by threadbare tablecloths, moth-eaten curtains, tattered shawls and dirty socks. Everything had to go. 

‘they all have to go!’ she addressed the air that stood heavy above her head. The stench of damp had morphed into a spicy discomfort.

She scratched out the label ‘important things’, renamed it ‘trash’ and piled in all the dilapidated items scattered around her on the floor.

The few things she could salvage were so few that she wondered why in the first place had she packed so many boxes.

It was strange and Mita couldn’t understand all the trouble she must have gone through to actually pack and move so many pointless boxes.

She looked down at her nightshirt that suddenly resembled the damp spot on the wall. 

How many days had she been wearing it now? It looked dirty and stained.

Pink was grooming himself somewhere in the distance and perhaps that was a sign to take a shower?

Who knew? Mita didn’t believe in signs nor did she understand them.

As she stacked the few items of wearable clothes in the closet, she saw for the first time since she moved here, a ladies handbag hanging in the back of the cupboard. She’d never seen it before, maybe because she never really fully opened the twin doored closet. It was easier to just fling everything on a chair instead.

It wasn’t a new handbag, neither an expensive one, In fact, the plausible reason it was left there, hanging about in a pinewood prison was probably that it was old, shopworn and just as tattered as most of the clothes Mita owned.

First the night lamp and now a handbag.

Mita wondered what all had been left behind to be found.

Before the day was over Mita had discovered a t-shirt and a set of blue and pink coffee mugs that had the words ‘his’ and ‘hers’ printed on them in an obscure font.

The t-shirt was old and torn which made it an ideal candidate for being cast away because what else might she do with a t-shirt that didn’t even belong to her? but the coffee mugs could be useful.

They weren’t cracked, didn’t look as aged and perhaps she could drink coffee out of them.

Coffee! this word felt new. She’d not had one in a while. Maybe she’d make some.

But where was coffee?

Wasn’t Anek drinking it this morning?

Pink sat on the couch explicitly ignoring Mita’s friendly advances and she understood he didn’t wish to be interrupted.

She sat quietly beside him, clutching the pink coffee mug while trying hard to not stare at the damp patch on the wall which looked to have grown.

The musty stench ate at her. She’d have to remedy this sorry situation soon and she would have given it some more thought had there not been a sudden movement in the corner of her right eye.

Pink was at it again.

He’d become alert with startling suddenness and stared at the pink coffee mug.

There was a somewhat curious question in his eyes as he stared at Mita’s hand, that steadily shook with unease.

‘What is it, sweetie?’ she gathered her guts to ask the engrossed cat who now began to slowly walk towards Mita.

The old couch which came with the house that was distinctly large in regards to the size of the living room had now shrunk as Pink closed the distance between himself and the anxious woman in two long strides.

He purred looking at the cup.

The usual loving purr that he’d emanate on seeing Anek.

He purred again and craned his neck to be petted and looked distinctly pleased. he wasn’t looking at Mita at all. She held her breath and couldn’t smell the musty stink anymore.

The coffee mug absorbed her trepidation and convulsed with the shudder that crawled along Mita’s spine.

‘Please stop it Pink’ her beseeching murmurs fell on deaf ears because Pink continued to purr.

He loved being petted.

Her heart which had until now not let itself felt pounded against her chest. She could see the stains on her shirt vibrate.

‘Stop it Pink’ her icy voice fell out in disjointed words of broken rambles but Pink continued to purr, increasing the intensity as if trying to drown her petitions.

The pink mug now sloshed its contents out on the floor. Mita wanted to fling that mug at the awful cat and run out of the house screaming without looking back, but she was in too deep right now.

Pink was inches away from her beating heart, staring at someone standing next to her, getting petted, her coffee mug convulsed, the tongue was paralyzed and tears streamed down her cheeks wetting the stains on her nightshirt making them look ghastlier.

‘there’s nothing.’ she muttered.

Pink wasn’t listening.

Her words came out in a soft gurgle ‘there’s nothing here Pink. Please don’t do this.’ She begged.

Pink was purring contently.

Mita found her feet. ‘I am going to stand now.’ she still held the coffee mug and the cat finally heard her voice which was much louder this time. He pricked his ears a brief second before ignoring her again and jumping down from the couch.

The damp came screaming in her nostrils, she felt her lungs collecting mildew and in one big swoop Mita stood up, spilling all her coffee on the floor and swung back her cup to let it hit something. She wasn’t sure what she was aiming for.

Her left arm sliced through the damp air.

Mita cheered ‘there’s nothing!’ She laughed and howled. 

‘silly cat, you silly silly cat’ Mita was jumping. Screaming with happiness she spread her hands to address the empty house, claiming her victory over whatever there was and saw behind her on the wall a handprint which wasn’t there before.

--

Cont.