Voice of God - Part III

Photo by Lan Gao on Unsplash

“Do you have any questions on today’s lecture?”

Hans raised his hand, making noises to get my attention. I smiled and let my eyes wander to the other children, who were already packing their stuff to leave.

Hans was curious about the world, the outside world beyond these flat lands, which pleasantly surprised me. He did not stop raising his hands throughout the lecture and was hungry for knowledge.

“You said, miss, that our planet is one of many in the Milky Way, then how come I have never seen an alien before?”

I chuckled without really meaning to. Hans’s tone was grave, and I did not want to downplay his childish curiosity.

As I was about to respond, my eyes landed on Vera’s wrist and my smile faded away. The little girl nimbly pulled her sleeves down and was in a great hurry to leave.

Bruises. On her arms, there were bruises. I could swear on the heavens that there was no trace of physical abuse yesterday, so how…

“Miss?”

I stood up just as Vera scampered out the door and glanced at Hans.

“I’m sorry, buddy, let’s talk about this another time, all right?”

Without waiting for the boy to leave the dilapidated classroom, I ran through the corridor until I caught up with Vera.

She peeked over her shoulder as I neared and picked up her pace.

I snatched her arm and then let go as she let out a groan. She was in pain. Those wounds bothered her, but she was in great pains to hide them from me.

Besides, she wanted me to follow her back home yesterday, so why was she running away from me now? I could not figure her out.

Hans and Michaela – even Laila and Derrick – were somewhat easy to read and decipher, but Vera was different. The more I tried to understand her, the deeper I sank into confusion.

“I want to go home… please, miss.”

I caught my breath before replying to her strange plea. It was not like I was trying to stop her from going home, I was just—

“Please…”

Her quivering eyes avoided mine. What was wrong with her? But the little girl would not say. Even so, I couldn’t keep in what went through my mind.

“What about…” your scars? I couldn’t finish my question.

If Vera was truly a victim of abuse and my visit to her home triggered her parents to do this to her, then would she – or anyone for that matter – confide in me? I crammed up and nodded to confirm that she was allowed to go.

I lost heart.

Even when she vanished out of sight several minutes ago, I stared blankly out the fence and imagined the horrors that poor girl was returning to.

But I couldn’t just stay put and wish upon the stars for a miracle, could I? Vera and the other kids were put in my care. I had to do something. It was my responsibility to keep them safe – even from their own blood.

I pulled out the business card Mary gave me. I didn’t think I would have any reason to hit her up, but I guess one should never say never.

Mary picked up the call after my second attempt. Although she knew my phone number, she sounded as if it was the first time we spoke on the phone.

I explained to her the nature of my sudden call and that I believed she was in a position to talk to Vera’s parents. She listened without interrupting me.

When she finally spoke up, I was not quite sure if she cared much about my concerns despite the fact that she assured me she would take care of this for me.

“Thank you, I know this was sudden and—”

“No worries,” she replied, added. “Besides, it was wise of you to call me first.”

“I’m sorry?”

She paused. I could tell from my end of the line that she changed sides and took her sweet time replying. For some reason, she enjoyed my startled tone, at least that was how it felt.

“You must understand how things work in the countryside I suppose? People here don’t like to be told what to do. Thrashing is not uncommon in the country…”

“That’s—what I saw, I beg your pardon, was more than just thrashing. That poor child’s arms were—”

“I’ll talk with her parents as per your wish, but that’s all I can do for you, Ms Carlton, and I highly advise you not to involve yourself in family matters.”

“Family matters?” I couldn’t help but smirk. “I’m her teacher! I have the responsibility to make sure my pupils are in good health and grow up into respectable citizens in this damn country!”

“Watch your words, dear. I don’t mind your language, but this is not how we spoke to each other in Dew Shire.”.

Before I could respond, the woman hung up on me. I listened to the buzzing noise left from our phone call, wheezing and trying to calm myself down.

Usually, things like this never happen. I had never lost my cool in my entire career. Until now. This place, this school, and these people did something to my psyche.

I couldn’t tell if I was simply overreacting or going bonkers.

Mary was right. I was living in the countryside where corporal punishment was common – even expected – so why did I react the way I did? Maybe it was the bruises I witnessed that put me under a heinous spell.

I had to stop caring. Mary said she would take care of this, so what reason did I have to doubt her?

I returned to my office, ate some filling crackers and then began to prepare for tomorrow’s lecture. Some time passed like this. Then I heard a clamour from the corridor and glimpsed outside from the cracked door.

There was no one in the drafty hall.

I tightened my grip on the rusty knob and was about to go back inside and lock the door when I caught myself staring at one of the doors down the vacant corridor. I was certain it was locked for the entire two days I stayed here.

But not this time. It was ajar. I looked around the corridor a second time, then decided to check the room out. Hardly had I touched the loose knob, when a bitterly cold hand gripped mine.

I jolted and let out a bloodcurdling gasp.

Next to me stood the man whose name I still did not know. He closed the door, and only then did he release his grip.

I took a few steps away from the strange guy and was in great pain to calm my hammering heart, trying to rip out of my chest. What in the whole world was this person doing here? At this hour, at that. I was about to speak my mind when he beat me to it.

“Sorry ‘bout that, did I scare you?”

I nodded after a brief moment of hesitation. I followed his eyes as he looked around in the corridor.

“I was passing by when I heard something. I thought you needed help.”

“What… did you hear?”

He dropped his eyes. “I don’t know, really. It sounded like you were screaming or something.”

“Screaming?” I repeated. “Why would I scream?”

“I must’ve heard wrong. I’m sorry for scaring you, Ms Carlton.”

“No… no, it’s okay.”

I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely worried about me or if he just came up with something to hide whatever lay beyond that door.

I bid him farewell; that was the end of our bizarre conversation. I saw him out and was about to return to the office when he asked something anew. This time, I was sure. There was something inside that room, and whatever it was, he did not want me to go in there and find out.

But I couldn’t let him catch onto my growing suspicions, so I played along.

“Hey, uhm, I completely forgot this, but Mary told me she needed to discuss something with you. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” I repeated and added. “I spoke with her over the phone just a few hours ago…”

“She said it was important, so you’d better hurry.”

I remained hushed for a few seconds and tried to decipher what went through his mind to no avail. Why was he so eager to see me go?

“I don’t really know where she lives, though. Mind taking me there?”

“… Yeah, sure.”

Mary Magdalene lived at the crook of a jagged mountain pass.

Her house could hardly be considered a hut like the ones we passed to get there. It was as lavish as the person it housed.

I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life the young woman led and what her occupation was as I made my way to the front door next to the weird guy, whose name I finally learnt. He told me his name was Nath. It was not short for Nathaniel or anything like that – just plain Nath.

He had, like many of the villagers, spent all his life in Dew Shire and could not imagine a life outside of it.

I thought of Hans. He, too, would probably never set foot outside this place and be stuck here for all his adult life. It seemed like a recurring and expected thing here, to live in the same hole until you pass away from old age.

Nath peeked over his shoulder as he knocked on the door for the second time. He came off as anxious, as though he wasn’t sure what he was doing here.

I ran my hand through my auburn hair and drew a deep breath.

By the end of his third attempt, the heavy door creaked open and a bare-faced Mary showed up. I could tell right away. She had no idea why we were here. Even so, she quickly got into her role and welcomed us in.

Nath drew closer, whispered something in Mary’s ears, and excused himself.

I followed Mary into the drawing room and planted myself on the maroon settee. Mary cleared her throat as she followed suit. In the prevailing silence, I looked around me and could hardly believe what I was seeing.

My inquisitiveness grew; who the heck was she?

The entire room was riddled with candlesticks, fragrant incense, antique tints, and ancient furniture. It felt like I had returned to a time long-forgotten in the past. The air was heavy and choking.

I locked eyes with Mary as I made up my mind and she, with her silent gaze, confirmed me.

This was a shrine. A place for prayer.

I gulped and felt how dry my mouth became in an instant. Still, Mary never avoided my bewildered eyes and stood her ground as if nothing was out of place. Who are you, I asked myself, but she was not going to tell me; I only knew what she wanted me to know about her.

I snapped back to reality when one of the windows flung open and chilled the inside out of the blue. Mary closed the window before taking a seat across from me.

“Nath said you had something to say…”

She did not reply at first. She just stared at me. It looked like she was trying to figure out what was going through my mind.

“Excuse the late hour, Ms Carlton. It’s about Vera.”

“You’ve spoken to her parents already?”

“I took care of the matter. There’s no need to worry.”

She wanted to end the conversation. But I wasn’t going to let her slip away this easily, so I insisted on knowing the details.

“I already told you all you need to know,” she said and showed me the door. “I hope you don’t insist on this any further. I have my reputation and I cannot disclose confidential—”

“I’ll see myself out, then. Thank you.”

She observed me until I was no longer in close proximity. The mysterious door was once again locked tight when I returned to the school grounds. I wrapped my hand around the cold doorknob and felt a chill run down my spine.

I wanted to look over my shoulder but fought every fibre of my being not to. Someone lurked in the shadows and observed my every move.

I let go of the doorknob and locked myself in the office soon afterwards. I didn’t blink an eye until daybreak and whoever watched me beyond the door and hid in the corridor did not, either.

Something was wrong… but what, exactly?

Voice of God - Part II

Photo by Caitlin Taylor on Unsplash

Here I was now – on my way to the past.

I sold my apartment, resigned as a private tutor, and left everything familiar just like that. The salary was thrice the amount I was making and the rent to my new home was pre-paid three months in advance.

I would be able to save up to $1,000 a month and still have enough left to indulge in my time-consuming hobby – thriller books.

The offer was too tempting to refuse.

Besides, after my mother’s death, there was nothing left for me to do in the city. I had no family I was aware of, no friends, or goals.

I lived day to day; there were days when I skipped meals; even breathing felt like a waste of time. It was time to change things up.

That phone call arrived at the right time.

I was contemplating ending my life.

When I learnt that I was returning to Dew Shire, I knew that I had done the right thing by accepting this job offer.

During my adolescence and even during my adulthood, I never even once thought of visiting that place.

For a very long time, I even forgot about its existence. I erased every memory I had of it. Still, Dew Shire called me back home where I belonged.

I received this offer for a reason, it was not a coincidence. I just knew. There was something very ominous and arcane about this place, one that gave me goosebumps and a dry throat.

“How much do I owe?”

“Nothing. Please be safe and,” the chauffeur rummaged through his pockets until he handed me a business card with his phone number. “Call me if anything should happen.”

I stuffed the card in my pocket and closed the door.

In front of me was a narrow alley, which led to a barred gate. There were towering trees on either side of me and well beyond the steel gates.

I waved the chauffeur farewell and watched him drive away before advancing.

The round moon was the only thing welcoming me as I made my way into the sleeping hamlet and ambled through the lone trail until I saw the first of several huts on my right.

I was told to continue down the alley until I reached the red brick school building to the left across a dilapidated building, which used to be a church.

I readjusted my backpack and sniffed the cool air. It smelled like downpour and earth even though the cobbled alley was not damp with rain.

I tried to reminisce my childhood but there was not even a single memory left of this place in my head.

When I finally reached the school building, a person greeted me and offered to carry my backpack. It was a man in his late thirties I think. He was wearing this very stale and textured brown blazer over a white shirt and a tweed green-brown waistcoat.

It was 2023. This man looked as if he was still stuck in the 1920s with his overly formal wear.

“Come; I’ll show you where you will be staying, miss.”

We entered the school building and scurried through a winding corridor until we arrived in front of an office. Rather than an office, though, it was a bedroom with its own draped bed, desk, and a redwood cabinet.

I could tell from the dustless window frames and the fragrance of lavender that someone had been in here to clean up.

After helping me unpack, the man bid me goodnight and said Mary Magdalene (he called her Mary) would arrive in the forenoon to show me around the village and greet the children.

I locked the door after him and sank into the office chair. Somehow, perhaps because I was exhausted from the three-hour journey, I soon fell asleep in that position.

A remote din startled me. I gasped and frantically looked around the crammed office room until my eyes landed on the door. With my heart in my mouth, I stumped towards it.

I could hear voices on the other side. Unbeknownst, I clutched the knob and tightened my grip. The murmur was inexplicable.

When I finally opened the door, I came face-to-face with a young woman and the stranger who welcomed me last night. They both crammed up before the woman spoke to me.

“You must be Ana Carlton, we talked on the phone.” The young woman reached her hand out.

“I’m Mary.”

I shook her outstretched, cold hand. She looked younger than I imagined. Even her voice lacked the agitation I recalled.

Her speech and mannerisms were eloquent and graceful. She was dressed in a similar fashion to the guy next to her.

I unwittingly looked down on my own attire and pondered whether I was the odd one in this god-forsaken place.

“You seem surprised, Miss Carlton.”

I scratched the back of my head with an edgy snigger and changed the subject. “Just a little tired. It was a long drive. Are the kids here?”

“They’ve been waiting for you. Shall we?”

We strode down the winding corridor. It was still too early in the morning hours, so the lights were turned on. The countryside, from what I read, was usually much darker in the mornings than what they were in the cities.

I noticed that one of the rectangular lamps flickered as we passed by.

The pair in front of me did not speak or strike up a conversation with me as we turned right around the corner and entered yet another corridor. We advanced in the quietude until the duo stopped in front of an ajar door.

I could hear chitchat from the small gap.

I left my phone on the desk so I did not know the exact time, though.

Mary stepped aside and gestured for me to enter. The small classroom was hardly functional; the dirtied beige walls were peeling, the loosely hanging lamp flickered and moved at each movement, and the floor was grating.

The entirety of the classroom told me time had not been kind to it. Apart from the old-fashioned blackboard and desks, this place could barely be called a place of education.

I lost my motivation and will the second I entered this drab place and, eventually, let my eyes wander to the only row of desks before me.

The children, three girls and two boys, stood up as soon as they became aware of us. They observed me with as much inquisitiveness as I did.

I studied them one at a time until my eyes wandered to the last desk, where a skinny girl with plaids quickly averted her gaze upon seeing me glimpse at her.

“This is your new teacher, children. Remember what I told you and behave.” Mary directed her honeyed and rotund voice at me. “I’ll take my leave then. Please call if anything should bother you.”

I nodded and watched as the pair walked out. Numerous eyes were, in return, observing me with great keenness. I cleared my throat to disperse the hardened mood and took a seat at my designated desk to the far left of the blackboard.

This was my first time being in a classroom; ever since I graduated, I had only worked privately as a tutor and with only one child at a time.

I was strung out – anyone in my stead would feel that way – but it was not anything unpleasant. I looked forward to the challenge. Besides, I thought, as I looked up at the alarmed faces, these kids must be more nervous than I was.

“My name is Ana but call me whatever suits you,” I began and naturally paused before asking the children to introduce themselves, starting from the left.

“My name’s Michaela and I’m seven years old, miss.”

Michaela had straight blond hair and a pair of emerald eyes. She was nowhere near a woman, but I could tell from her confidence that she would grow up into a Wonder Woman one day.

I nodded and looked at the boy next to her.

“I’m Derrick, miss.”

Derrick had tanned skin and curly hair. His eyes were almost pitch-black and boundless.

He lacked Michaela’s confidence and looked like he would rather be anywhere else but in this classroom.

I smiled and let the girl next to him take over.

“My name is Laila, miss, and I’m seven like Michaela.”

Laila was as white as a sheet. Her porcelain skin matched that of her black, velvety hair.

Her eyes were ocean blue and she had high cheekbones. She reminded me of a black-haired Marilyn Monroe.

As soon as her turn was over, she dropped her eyes and bashfully looked at the boy next to her.

“I’m Hans and I’ll become the mayor one day!”

The other kids burst into stifled laughter and I belatedly joined them until my eyes landed on the girl with the plaids. My smile faded; she was the only one staring blankly at her desk.

“And, what about you? What’s your name?” I asked amidst the lightened mood that soon hardened with my sudden question.

The girl with the plaid flinched and would not look at me. Hans spoke in her stead.

“She’s Vera, miss. She doesn’t speak much.”

“Is that so?” I replied. “In any case, I’m glad to meet you, Vera.”

We spent the rest of the morning studying a book I brought with me. The children were exceptional readers, so I figured their former teacher had taught them well.

By the time the clock struck twelve, I ended our first school day and was handing out the homework I had prepared when Vera grabbed my sleeve. The other children had already left at that point.

I patiently waited for her to speak her mind, but she would not say a word – or let me go.

“Is something the matter, Vera?”

She glimpsed at me. I could tell that she wanted to say something but couldn’t. I placed my hand over hers and smiled.

“What is it? Do the others bother you?”

She shook her head.

“It’s okay, you can tell me what’s the matter. I’ll keep it a secret.”

I finally heard her voice. Still, she would not look at me. It was as if her whole world would crash and shatter if she did so. I could not help but wonder why she acted the way she did. I had seen my fair share of shy children, but she was different.

Laila was shy but Vera she… I didn’t know how to put it… strange or maybe antsy, even? 

“C- can you take me home, miss?”

“Take you home?” I repeated, bewildered. “Do you live far from here?”

She shook her head. Then why? But if I asked her this, wouldn’t she lose heart and stop opening up to me?

I patted her hand and beamed to assure her that it was okay. She finally locked eyes with me and stood up in a jiffy. Before I knew of it, she seized my hand and led the way.

Such an icy-cold hand, I thought and tried to wriggle my hand a tad from her tight grasp. She held onto me for dear life.

We were passing by the coal-black church when she finally, and rather abruptly, let go of my hand.

I broke off and followed her gaze fixed on the crumbling church. As I was about to ask her what was wrong, she dashed into my arms with wide-open eyes and quivered.

Startled, I looked around us and then returned my gaze to the church where the oval gate was slightly cracked. What in the world had she seen? I did not dare to ask.

Vera lived across from the grocer’s shop. I knocked a few times before the door cracked open and a sturdily built woman in a filthy apron and greasy, dishevelled hair emerged.

She scowled as we locked eyes, then finally noticed the skinny girl tightly holding onto my arm and weighing me down. The woman, whom I assumed was Vera’s mother, swiftly snatched the girl and dragged her in through the crack.

I was about to ask if I could speak to her when the door slammed shut right in front of me. Dumbfounded, I turned around and focused on the church in the distance before shifting my gaze to the grocer’s shop.

The owner quickly averted his gaze upon locking eyes with me. I glimpsed at the church again before making my way to the shop. The bells rang as soon as I entered and made my presence known, although I was certain the owner already knew.

I grabbed some dairy products, coffee, and utensils for supper. When I was about to pay, the owner quickly glimpsed up and addressed me. I studied his hands and noticed he was trembling and fidgeting. Even his eyeballs quivered.

“You must be careful around here…”

I knew that already, but why did I have to hear this exact phrase from someone already living here? I could understand the chauffeur – an outsider – but why would this person tell me this as well?

Just as I was about to speak my mind, we both turned our heads towards the door, startled.

The bells rang.

The guy who followed Mary around entered. The owner fell silent and quickly put my stuff in a plastic bag as if to tell me to hurry and leave. He wouldn’t even accept the cash I gave him.

I looked over my shoulder as I grabbed the plastic bag and noticed the strange man carefully watching us, then put what I owed on the desk anyway, and made my way out.

I was a few steps away from the church building when the strange guy appeared beside me.

The grocery shop owner’s odd behaviour crossed my mind at the time, and I could not help but wonder what had caused him to be so antsy and on his toes.

The man next to me was hardly intimidating. His mannerism was that of a timid recluse. I kind of felt sorry for him, actually. How miserable was he to tail and run errands for Mary? 

“How was your first day, miss? I hope the children behaved.”

“It was okay, I suppose. I’m trying to get to know them little by little.”

 “I hope you’ll like it here. Mind, most don’t. They leave as soon as they get here. But, you know, Dew Shire is a quiet and peaceful place…”

I forced a smile. “I’m sure it is. I’m not interested in the rumours and things like that if that’s what you mean. I only believe what I see.”

He let out nervous laughter. “Actually, most of us already know you – or rather your mother. She’s somewhat of a celebrity here.”

“My mum?” I repeated. “How so?”

“It’s a long story. She was a kind soul; your mother I mean. We all liked her very much, so it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah? How funny. My mum didn’t say much about this place, actually. It’s kinda weird to hear that people liked her when she… I don’t know, I grew up thinking she resented this place.”

“She did? Did she say anything else about Dew Shire… and about us to you?”

“No, she—” I stopped midway through, “do you perhaps know my father?”

“Your father? No. But I’m sure Mary knows.”

I smiled upon hearing this. “Mary must know a lot of things, huh?”

He did not reply. Instead, he mumbled something I could not understand and excused himself, as if he had just made a grave mistake.

I observed him as he scurried back to the grocer’s shop.

His shoulders were rounded; his figure belonged to an old man who had been through hell. Lonely, even agitated… I could not figure him out but one thing was sure.

He did know me, though. He wasn’t making things up.  As he vanished out of sight, I recalled that he was the only one whose name I still did not know.

We had met thrice already, but he never introduced himself. I brooded on like this until I was close enough to the church premises to notice that the cracked gate was now locked tight.

I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. How strange. I heard people didn’t use the church anymore, guess I was wrong…

After doing the dishes in the restroom, I returned to my desk and fetched a pack of cigarettes I brought with me from home. I meant to quit while in Dew Shire but did not feel like it at this moment.

My mind was filled to the brim.

I took my first drag outside the school building and sunk into the only available bank next to the entrance. Half an hour later, as I was about to put out the cigarette, I noticed what looked like a torch outside the barred fence.

It piqued my interest and so I rose to my feet to catch a glimpse of what was going on. But it was gone, whatever or whoever it was in these wee hours.

Reluctantly, my eyes fell on the towering church. Vera’s quivering body flashed through my mind. What had caused such fright in her? Beyond this towering building made of coal.

I returned to the office and locked the door.

Voice of God - Part I

Photo by Cătălin Dumitrașcu on Unsplash

I grew up in Dew Shire, a forlorn hamlet on the outskirts of a dense woodland surrounded by rivers, mountains, and neighbouring towns.

To get to Dew Shire, one had to drive through a narrow-forested roadway which went through several villagers in the countryside.

The roadway was not lit up, so the vicinity used to be dark at night, which was why only a few people prowled these parts of the country in the wee hours.

But it was not the murk that kept people at bay. This, only a few people living in the area knew.

Two decades ago, one stormy night, a murder took place in the woods.

The authorities found a vacant blue Sedan on the roadway, which belonged to the victim, Enis Fair.

A young graduate, Enis had taken on her first job as a reporter in Danbury.

She was investigating a missing case in the area when an undisclosed hunter found her lifeless body at daybreak.

The vile animals had ripped her remains apart; it was only a coincidence she was ever found and belatedly identified by her employer.

People in Dew Shire, the young as well as the old, recounted numerous instances where her vindictive apparition scavenged the woodland.

Some swore to have seen her savaged face and harrowing grin, her bloodied white dress and greasy long hair dancing in time with the moaning wind.

It was said that she waited for her murderer to show up. She experienced such an unjust death that she could not bear to leave this earthly world and ascend to the afterlife.

These, however, were only sayings and no living being had seen the apparition with the naked eye, and those who did never survived to tell the tale.

Who could’ve guessed that I would return to this place? Even now, as I stared out through the car window and observed the darkness-shrouded woods, I could not believe I was here – that I had really come to this place.

In my absentmindedness, I belatedly noticed that the chauffeur struck up a conversation with me.

We locked our eyes through the rearview mirror.

He was a middle-aged man with warm, brown eyes and a radiating, fatherly smile.

I did not know why, but there was also a hint of concern in those eyes.

“We are there in roughly a few minutes, miss, do you want me to drop you off somewhere specific?”

“No, don’t bother; I’ll find my way, thank you.”

He hesitated before speaking again.

He kept peeking at me from the rearview mirror.

I saw his Adam’s apple move as he gulped; there was something on his mind, something that bothered him and needed to escape his lips and be heard.

For some reason, I already knew what he wanted to say.

After all, he was not the only one who had warned me about Dew Shire.

Anyone who knew its past heeded me to listen to their admonitions and insisted that I change my mind.

Maybe it was because I was stubborn and hardheaded even as a child – I’m not sure – but these threats made me want to come here even more.

“Please forgive me if I say something I have no right to speak on, but this place…”

“I know. It’s not safe.”

He gulped. “Then why…?”

I smiled and dropped my eyes.

If only I knew why myself then maybe it would be easier for others to grasp my peculiar train of thoughts.

But I did not know the answer.

I was only sure about one thing: Dew Shire brought me here, not the other way around.

How could I possibly explain this to people? They would think I had gone bonkers if I said those words.

But it was the truth.

It really was.

It all began the day I received a call from an unknown phone number two weeks ago.

I was on my way home after a private lecture when I received the call.

Being a teacher for the last five years, I knew that my students liked to play pranks on me and call for the sake of having some fun in an otherwise mundane life constricted by rules.

But there were also instances where potential customers called me after hearing of my credentials from other parents.

During those five years in this profession, I helped graduate even the most afflicting child.

There was a case which I especially remember as if it happened just yesterday.

It was a fond memory of mine and one that helped me slave through the evenings and pay the bills.

Yet it was a peculiar case.

His name was Jonathan Giray.

I had the pleasure of teaching him in my first year as a private tutor.

He had dropped out of high school at the time and his parents, in a last attempt to save his academic life, hired me.

There was something grey about Jonathan.

Just grey and colourless.

He refused to be tutored and locked himself up in his dimly lit room every session.

I recognised from our first meeting that his problems were far more complicated for a mere teacher like me to handle.

Jonathan had given up on life.

Even as I tried to convey this to his strict and elite parents, they refused to believe my sincere words.

The Girays were academicians themselves, one with a doctorate in philosophy and the other dean of a private faculty.

They were not concerned with Jonathan’s wellbeing, they only wanted to save face.

In their minds, Jonathan was a failure and an embarrassment.

I resigned after a month and slid a note under Jonathan’s door.

Half a year later, Jonathan’s presumed suicide reached my ear.

I paid him a visit after the funeral.

A dark-grey marble stone greeted me.

The damp soil was dark, tender and soothing against my skin.

I left a bouquet of lilies on his grave and never returned.

He was my turning point, my downfall.

With him, I could no longer turn a blind eye to the miseries I experienced in each new household.

It wore out on my psyche.

Each day, I grew even more delirious than the previous trying to come to terms with my role as a mere tutor.

I was not God.

But I heard and felt those children’s screaming hearts for mercy deep within my soul. 

To return to the call concerned, I had not the foggiest idea who was calling back then.

Given the circumstances and my profession, I answered the call expecting the giggle of pranksters or the grave and rotund tone of potential customers.

But it was none of these things.

I only heard someone’s shallow, hesitant breathing on the other end of the line.

This caught me off guard.

It was unexpected.

By the time a woman spoke, I had got into my car and was ready to hang up.

A quiet and antsy voice greeted me by my first name.

While ruminating whether the woman was a customer after all, she asked if I wanted to take on a job.

She would not specify what kind of work I was supposed to do at first, but when I insisted, she revealed that I was to tutor children in a village.

Details on the village itself, the pay or insurance she would only send me if I accepted her offer within two days.

Before she ended the peculiar call, I asked for her name and contact information.

Mary Magdalene.

(203) NXX-XXXX.

I knew at that point that she used a pseudonym.

Could it be a coincidence? It could be.

But the nature of the phone call, her delayed speech and the bizarre job offer told me it could not just be a coincidence.

I knew my Gospel.

My mother was a nun before she gave birth to me.

I never had a father; I was called all sorts of names and slurs due to this while growing up.

There were times when I considered finding him despite my mother’s pleas.

Moreover, we did not look alike, my mother and I.

She was pallid and blue-eyed while I was tanned and brown-eyed.

My peers used to make fun of this, especially, they called me the whore’s daughter and a bastard.

I could not help but wonder over the years whether I resembled my father…

When she lay on her deathbed a year ago, she made me promise not to look for him.

She was cruel even as she passed away.

I was 28 years old at the time.

A father figure had always been missed in my life.

My mother remained a recluse nun until the day she died and harboured such hate towards men that I grew up thinking they were all devils.

It was an unwritten rule between us that I was not supposed to take to men.

Even after she bit the dust, I could not fall in love.

The resentment was deep and persistent; it pervaded and shaped my entire life.

But I knew I liked men.

I had never fallen in love with another woman despite my best efforts.

On countless nights, I prayed for my cold heart to open up and welcome the honeyed scent of females.

In the end, I ended up falling in love with a man.

His name was Ossian. Ossian Hallberg.

We were in the same peer group at university. With him, I experienced my first and last lovesickness.

I did not intend to act on my feelings, however, which was eventually for the better.

Ossian was already in love with another person – another man.

I realised two things about my covert sexuality with him: first, that I could fall in love like everyone else, and, second, that I liked femininity in men.

He was caring and kind, always the first to greet me even though everyone else avoided me.

His facial features were effeminate although his body was not, and his tone was sweet and sugary like a female’s although deep and guttural.

And first and foremost, he reminded me of myself; I, too, had both feminine and masculine features.

I was looking at a shrewd mirror whenever I stared at him, and he reminded me of a parallel universe where life was much different from the one I was living.

Uber Driving Gone Wrong

Photo by Strange Happenings on Unsplash

I sank into the leather seat and looked up at the car roof after dropping off my last customer for the night.

A sigh escaped from my lips as I sank further into the driver’s seat.

Too drained from working night shifts three times a week the last couple of months, my eyelids gave in and were as heavy as lead.

But the silence did not last for long. A notification popped up on my phone and stirred me up. A customer wanted to be picked up at a quarter to three in the witching hour.

As I was about to call the customer and refer them to a colleague of mine, another notification popped up.

I sat up straight upon seeing the numbers on the screen. $1,000?

I punched in the address on the in-built GPS. $1,000 for a ride twenty-five miles from the pickup location? What were the chances?

Levi, my friend and another Uber driver working night shifts, said, quote, if something’s too good to be true, it is, end quote.

From what he told me, these kinds of customers were almost all exclusively either influencers doing social experiments or teenagers with nothing better to do but prank hard-working people like us for a hard laugh.

As if I hadn’t enough on my hands and mind already, a phone call I did not expect hit me up just moments later and disturbed my train of thought.

Swearing through gritted teeth and vexed more than words could capture, I slowed down and unwillingly answered the phone. How long was she going to keep this up?

“Hello? Joseph?”

“I’m working right now, can you—”

“Don’t do you hang up on me!”

I drew a deep breath, deliberately pausing to calm my nerves and think straight.

“It’s my last shift. I told you that already.”

“You said that two months ago!”

“Just… just give me some more time, all right! I’m working my fingers to the bone to provide for you and the kids, for crying out loud!”

“No…” Annie said, my partner of ten years, adding before I could come to my defence. “If you were truly thinking of us, you’d start getting a proper job!”

I shut my eyes briefly, trying to control the anger soaring through every fibre of my being. ‘Get a proper job’? A smirk crossed my face. What had I been doing all these years?

Had I the energy to snap back at her, I would. But I hadn’t slept properly for too many nights to do that.

“Listen, I’m not in the mood for this, okay? I’ll hit you up when I come home.”

“Joseph—”

I ended the call and tossed the phone on the passenger’s seat. Rubbing my face to the point the dead cells came off, I slouched forwards and rested my head on the steering wheel.

Annie and I were high school sweethearts. I was part of an alternative rock band called ‘The Puppet Master’, a silly name, I know, but it sounded cool back then.

We drew inspiration from Japanese Visual kei bands like the GazettE and DIR EN GREY. We even had an entire friend group, which was all about Visual kei bands and anime.

Annie was a transfer student and joined our close-knit group during the second semester before graduation. The only daughter of an ambassador, she’d been raised in Japan and was a mangaka in her own right.

Our love story, however, did not last as long as either of us thought it would. When her dad got deployed to another country four years later, we lost contact with each other and moved on.

When we met up years later in our mid-twenties, the sparkle between us I thought had long since faded, rekindled.

We moved in together right away and got pregnant two years later. Annie became with a child just six months after giving birth to our firstborn.

It was a tough time for both of us. My dreams of getting discovered, going on tours, and becoming successful never died.

Between working as an Uber driver at night and a cashier during the day, I frequented clubs with my bandmates and tried to get some exposure.

We weren’t big in the night scene, definitely not, but we still had a small following that was loyal to us.

It wasn’t that Annie was wrong. She was right. I barely slept at home and she was left to take care of both kids, two mischievous boys, and the house chores all by herself.

Not to mention, we barely made the ends meet. Had it not been for Annie’s parents, we’d probably be homeless right now.

I was sorry towards her. She was studying medicine when we met and had her whole life before her. When this whole pregnancy thing happened, she quit her studies to take care of our firstborn.

There wasn’t a day where I didn’t feel a pang of ache in my heart for her, but putting all this pressure on me and deriding me for not being enough wasn’t exactly what I needed to hear.

Beep, beep.

It was that customer again. $1,000, huh? How many diapers did that translate to?

Levi’s voice replayed in my mind on repeat. But if this was nothing but a silly prank, then why was this person so persistent? Surely, a prankster wouldn’t go to such lengths to reach out?

I hit them up. Just to make sure someone wasn’t trying to pull my legs.

A young woman spoke up on the other end of the line. Her soft voice was pleasant to listen to. She sounded young, like someone in their early twenties or an eloquent teenager.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uhm, this is Joseph,” I said, adding as the woman did not reply. “The Uber driver?”

“Oh, hi. Are you here yet?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You… accepted my request ten minutes ago?”

I peeked at the app as the woman carried on in the background. When did I press accept? When was I talking with Annie or afterwards? I couldn’t even tell.

“Sorry ‘bout that. It seems like there’s some kind of mistake on my part.”

“You’re not backing off, are you? I really need this ride. Please.”

I scratched the side of my brow and took another look at the address on the GPS. It was literally in the middle of nowhere, the place this person wanted to be dropped off.

Moreover, I was the only active Uber driver nearby, and this person sounded too young for my liking. What was she even doing at this peculiar hour at such a delicate age?

“How old are you?”

There was a slight pause after I asked this.

“Hello? Are you still there—”

“Please, I [unintelligible]…”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

A low tone replaced the airy whisper I just heard. It was as if I was speaking to two different people – that was how different the tone came off to me.

Was Levi right, after all? Were these some bored-to-death teenagers trying to waste their own as well as my time?

“I’m sorry, I already decided to call it quits for tonight. I’ll refer you to my colleague—”

“NO!”

“What…?”

“NO! NO! NO!”

“Hey, is everything all right? Do you need help?”

“S- stay away! I said, stay away!”

I briefly put the phone away to take note of the customer’s name.

“Emily? Emily, is everything okay with you? Hello—”

*inexplicable screams*

The line died.

Without thinking about what the hell I was doing, I started the motor and hit the road. In hindsight, I should’ve called the police and stayed put, but sometimes you do stupid things and you don’t know why.

I tried reaching out to the young woman throughout the fifteen-minute ride. But her phone was off and kept sending me to voice mail.

When I finally arrived at the pickup location, the last thing I expected to find was a graveyard on a wooded hill in the middle of absolute nowhere.

There was no sign of life anywhere I rested my darting eyes. Save from some derelict houses at the end of the narrow route, no one seemed to be living in the otherwise dim neighbourhood shrouded in shades of amber and purple from the rising sun.

“Hello? Emily? Are you here?”

There was no reply. I heard nothing but the frantic beat of my heart and the wailing blasts of wind coming through from the northeast.

What was this feeling, though? As if I was being watched. Stranger still, what was the customer doing in this harrowing graveyard at such an odd hour? It made little sense.

“Emily? Do you need help?”

When I searched the entire graveyard for the third time and still found nothing, I made up my mind to return to the city and from there call the police.

As soon as the headlights switched on, however, something in the direction of the blinding lights caught my attention. Was that… Emily?

I stepped out of the car and headed towards the silhouette who stood with her back turned towards me. Her long, black hair reached to her waist and she was dressed in a white nightgown.

Swaying gently to the breeze, she kept murmuring something as I drew closer. I couldn’t hear what it was at first, it sounded like something a drunkard would ramble up, but then I heard it as clear as day.

“He’s going to kill me…”

“He’s going to kill me…”

“He’s going to…” I stumbled backwards and fell as she turned her pallid face towards me and screamed her head off. “… KILL YOU.”

Crawling backwards in the hopes of reaching my car and getting the hell out of there, I nudged something sharp and stopped dead.

A bloody knife. At first, I thought I had cut my hand while trying to get away, but I wasn’t bleeding anywhere.

I glanced up as the young woman appeared before me. Her neck and body were twisted in opposite directions, and her hollow, wide-set eyes fixed on me, as an invisible force dragged her through the wilted blades of grass and left behind a trail of blood.

I stumbled back on my feet and followed the invisible figure to a shallow pit. Both the woman and the thing that dragged her all the way here faded away. The shallow pit turned into an unmarked grave.

I frowned as I touched the damp soil. It was newly dug. What on earth was going on?

The hum of an engine coming through startled me out of my dire thoughts. The headlights of what could only be another car soon followed and illuminated the vicinity, only to switch off as soon as it pulled up next to my car, which had still its headlights turned on.

“Damn it!”

I kept my head low, crawled as far away as I could without making a single sound, and cowered behind a headstone veiled in a thick layer of patina.

Reaching into my pocket to call for help, I realised too belatedly that I left my phone in the car.

Shit! Swearing under my breath, I glanced towards the blazing light as a figure showed up.

It was a man. I couldn’t see his face, though. I was too far away from him. But it was a man; I was positive.

He looked around himself before turning off the headlights. Although I couldn’t see it clearly from this angle, I knew he now had my phone in his hand and was trying to unlock it.

I turned away and rested against the headstone. My chest rose and fell to the cadence of my frantically beating heart.

There were so many questions whirling through my mind, but none of them put me in greater distress as the one taking over every inch of my brain right now.

What was Annie going to tell the kids? That their father, who they hardly saw growing up just… just abandoned them and disappeared from the face of the earth?

It wasn’t that I tried to neglect my duties as a father and husband. I was just… trying to make a living for my family in the only way I knew – by composing music.

A smile crossed my lips as the footsteps behind me grew louder.

Annie said she fell for me after seeing me play the bass during a school outing. I had a fling with another girl back then. What was her name, again? Right, Laura.

She was a nutjob, man. She was… crazy. I thought I was in love with her until Annie transferred to our high school and took my breath away.

I still recall the first time I laid eyes on her. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I didn’t believe in love at first sight until she came along.

But now that I thought things over, had I the chance to go back in time right now, I would’ve done everything I could to stay away from her.

I didn’t deserve her.

I was a failure.

I messed everything up.

If only I could turn back time and…

Holding my breath, I stared up at the towering shadow that fell upon me. The upside-down view of a familiar face greeted me with a wolfish grin.

Before I could speak up and voice my doubts about the mysterious man’s identity, he bludgeoned me to death.

As my head hung loosely from my bloodied neck, the man dragged me through the grass and towards another shallow pit next to the unmarked grave. I couldn’t even turn my head and take another look at him.

When he rolled me into the dark pit and covered me with soil, he turned my head so I could finally look him in the eyes.

“I don’t know how you ended up here, Joseph, but I clearly remember telling you to be careful.” He paused. “This? You brought it upon yourself. When something’s too good to be true, it’s not.”

I moved my lips, at least I thought I did, but no words escaped from me. He observed with a tilted head from where he squatted as I struggled to speak and keep the crimson liquid from suffocating me to death.

Everything plunged into darkness.

The grains of damp sand smothered me out of air and got stuck in my throat.

Under me and from either side, a heap of rotting corpses screamed their heads off and fought to reach the surface and escape from their deadly cage. I was the only person of the opposite sex.

The spell, which left me unable to speak, let up and I regained back my senses.

Like the others below me, shoving and ripping one another apart to get out of this suffocating darkness, I screamed at the top of my lungs and dug my nails into the hard soil until blood covered my face.

Phone Call

Photo by Sebastiano Corti on Unsplash

“Are you sure we’re not lost, Jason?”

I took a gander at my pregnant wife, Marissa, before turning right for the third time. Unlike many of our peers who married young and became pregnant before they hit their thirties, Marissa and I met one another late in life and married in our thirties.

Doctors and friends alike told us we wouldn’t be able to get pregnant and that we should settle for an adoption. After trying for five years without any results, we gave up all hope and prepared the paperwork to adopt a toddler.

When Marissa became with child, the last thing I expected was this growing trepidation in the pit of my stomach. I never considered how attached I would become to our unborn child. With each passing day, I learnt something new about myself and understood with what heart my single mother raised me in the ghetto.

But the blessing didn’t last for long.

A phone call came through in the dead of night. Jordan, my big brother, said Mum had taken ill and probably wouldn’t make it through the night. Marissa insisted on coming along seeing the distraught state I was in.

We were halfway through the countryside and what should’ve been only a one-hour drive to the southeast. But when we passed the two-hour mark, both of us knew that something was amiss.

I knew this route like the back of my hand. I grew up in the countryside and knew my way around these parts of the country better than anyone. But that night, something or someone hindered me from finding my way out of the vicious loop.

“What does the GPS say?” I said.  

“I’m not sure…”

“Put in the address again.”

“Like this?”

I briefly peeked at the phone screen. Since this was the countryside and we were in the middle of a single-lane road through the meadows, our surroundings were pitch-black.

“Delete the ‘e’. No, keep the ‘s’, just—hold on.”

When she typed it wrong again, I seized the phone without letting my eyes off the windshield. As I typed the last letter, something in the middle of the road caught my attention and I hit the brakes.

Lurching forwards, I looked up to take another look at what I could only describe as a huge tree blocking off the route ahead.

Catching her breath, Marissa, “Why’d you stop? Jason?”

“Stay here.”

The first thing that arrested me was the clean cut. Someone barricaded the roadway on purpose. As soon as this thought crossed my mind, I looked around myself in the shadowy depths and tried to locate anything out of the ordinary in the wooded vicinity.

“What’s going—”

“No, stay there!” I said without looking at her. “Lock the doors and stay put.”

I saw nothing that could explain the angst taking hold of every fibre of my being. The only thing I could tell for sure at the time was that I needed to protect my family.

Something was in the offing.

Typing in 911, unsure of what to say to the operator, something moved past me and disappeared into the wilted thickets. I paused and held my breath.

A maniacal laughter reverberated throughout the vicinity. I spun around in place, trying to locate the source of the strange laughter. How many were they?

I stumbled backwards as I pressed the ‘call’ button, careful not to make any sounds and make it back to the car in one piece.

“This is 911. What’s the address of your emergency?”

“I- I don’t know, I’m not sure. We passed the highway an hour ago, I think.”

“Where were you headed, Jason?”

“We were—I’m sorry?”

“Isn’t this Jason speaking?”

“What’s—”

The woman’s voice morphed into a deep, slow tone.

“What have you done, Jason?”

“W- what is this? Some kind of nationwide joke?”

“What… have… you… done… Ja-son?”

I glanced at the phone screen. What the heck? The phone number on the screen was a jumbled mess of random letters and symbols.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

The deep voice now turned shrill, like a disturbing cross between a moan and a scream.

“Ja-son, Ja-son, Ja-son…”

The phone slipped through my grasp, but the voice continued to ring in my ears. Blood gushed out of my mouth and seeped out through the corners of my lips.

I bled from every hole and pore. The crimson liquid, sticky and warm to the touch, soaked me wet at an unprecedented speed.

I gasped. The voices faded away. Buzzing, another phone call came through from an unknown caller. I picked up the phone and observed it ring for a few seconds.

“Hel…lo?”

“Where have you been—Jason? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

I looked over my shoulder upon hearing her voice on the other end of the line.

My legs gave way under me and I fell with the phone clutched tight in my hand.

The disfigured body, cold and stiff, stared right back at me. She held her belly. The look in her hollow eyes was that of a woman in great distress through the windshield.

“Jason? Are you there?”

As I placed the phone in my ear, the skeletal figure gasped to life and spotted me.

“Ma… rissa?”

“Is everything okay? You’ve been acting so strange lately. Did something happen between you and Jordan?”

The living dead crawled out of the car.

“W- what do you mean?”

“You stormed out in the middle of the night and didn’t return for weeks. Something’s different about you, I can tell…”

“Different?”

“You keep talking to yourself and…”

The cadaver drew closer. It was bleeding from its legs.

“And?”

The voice on the other end of the line faded away.

“Marissa? Hello—”

The deep voice, which sounded muffled and as if underwater, returned.

“What have you done, Ja-son? What have you done to our ba-by?”

I looked up as a shadow fell over me and shrouded everything in shadows. The creature’s belly ripped apart from within. Something pierced through my throat – something that lurked inside its bleeding womb.

As I collapsed into the pool of blood and convulsed, the voice on the phone kept growing louder and shriller, purposely trying to jog my memory and make me remember what I had no recollection of.  

When I took my last breath, everything returned to normal.

The phone call ended.

The whispers faded away.

And… the beat of my wretched heart picked up.

Coming back to life a second time, I stirred awake with a gasp and glanced at the clock. It read four past one o’clock in the witching hour. When a minute passed, a phone call came through and made my chest rise and fall in an unnatural rhythm.

It was Jordan.

I didn’t answer the phone.

When it finally stopped ringing, I shifted my gaze to Marissa, who slept soundly beside me. I snug close to her and wrapped my arms around her, placing kisses on her delicate shoulder.

I missed my mother’s last moments. She apparently told Jordan not to call me for some reason, although he ended up calling that one failed time after she fell asleep.

When we met up at the maternity ward two months later, my brother told me something that would forever stay with me.

Quote, Mum kept telling me to not call you. When I asked why, she said you’d know the reason, end quote.

Was this a mother’s intuition at play?

As I held my son and he wrapped his tiny hands around my thumb, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of ache within my soul.

That night, when I picked up that phone call, did Mum know that something wicked had set its eyes on me and my family?