Do I Know You?

Do I Know You? by Low Pei Hua

Such a pretty shop, she thought. Only that it should deserve greater care. Look, the dust is a cloak that captures the light. A cobweb for every gray year, and it shall soon turn into a giant spider’s lair. Look, in the mirror. Look, through the glass. We both have aged. This little shop and I. Time has paled us; cruel or welcome? She drifts to the doorway, and stares. A sweet countenance receiving a shock, footsteps retreating into the shadows. Wait, she calls. You look familiar. So slowly, and warily, the figure returns. Blank eyes stare back into mine. Though there is no light in them, perhaps it casts a spell. My soul is bleached. They knew each other, once, long ago – in a broken dream. She lifts a hand, brought close to the glass. On the other side, a tentative hand approaches. A wall divides – two worlds apart. Always together, but never again. Somewhere …

Palms meet.

Fainting

Fainting (30 word story)

 The winter air nips at my extremities. Black orbs cloud my vision. I retreat to a state of unconsciousness.

  The sky curiously gazes down upon me. The ground is unwelcoming.

– Vanessa Chan

Eyes of the night

Eyes of the night – Vanessa Chan

  In the dead of the night, you awaken from your slumber. It is stuffy in your apartment. You crack open the window and your skin prickles from the bitter air that rushes to greet you. As you stare out into the open street down below, you notice a faint rumbling in the distance. You register a subtle drone. It is of a magnitude so small, it usually remains undetectable amidst the cacophony of vehicular activity. However, this night is different. Unlike other nights, where you have stood and relish the delectable shivers that emanate through your body, this night is still. The street below is cast in a peculiar mélange of unnatural shades of orange and white. You notice how the gentle glow of the moon filters through forbidding clouds. A figure of a man approaches. He crawled out from deep within shadows from the alley on the right side of the street. The hairs on your neck stand. Out of curiosity, you lift the window all the way up. You stick your head out the window. The figure stops. For a moment, you are frozen in place, just as the figure is. By now, your eyes have adjusted to the tenebrous night. You stare at the figure as it possibly stares back at you. Warning sirens go off in your head. You snap out of your trance. The figure resumes its movement. It worms its way around the concentric pools of synthetic light. It is hesitant.

  The droning begins to get louder. It echoes all around you. It tightly wraps around you. It is suffocating. The figure raises its head. Two embers glow brightly. The figure’s gaze is piercing. You cannot catch your breath. The raw chill of the night air turns stale. It creeps in through the window. It snakes around your neck. Your fingertips and toes curl. Your chest is tight. Your eyes start to tear. The embers burn fiercely. A searing heat emanates through your body. Beads of sweat appear on your skin. Your eyes start to sting. You become frozen.

  Time passes.

You are one with the night.

You are still.

   The figure recedes back into the cover of shadows. Your body is no longer your own. You will roam the streets with eyes of the night.

My momma always said

To never get out of bed

When all is still outside

You don’t know what

Is awaiting you

Beyond your bedroom window

Never look at lurking figures

They are tormented

Souls

Never disregard these words

They will keep you

Safe

Eyes of night

They burn so bright

You are see-through

And the night is watching

you

The Beginning

The Beginning – Vanessa Chan

1.07am

I lay in my nightgown, contemplating. The material is as thin as my resolve; the mattress as hard as my exterior; the air as cold as my soul. I don’t have a care in the world. I am like the glass on the bedside table – empty. I am merely a vessel. What is it like? To feel. I long for some source of strength to surge through me once more. I long to drown once again. I long to thrash around in the turmoil I used to know. I long to feel the heaviness upon my shoulders. I long to feel. Anew. Is that possible?

1.28am

I am seated on the unwelcoming ground. My posterior recognizes its place. It is time. One hand gripping the edge, I place a finger into my throat. Trying to coax my shame out. It is easy – the expulsion, though the journey is searing. I indulge in the luxury of bettering myself again. One flush. Two flush. Three flush. Four. I rinse my hands and cleanse myself. My skin flushes red under the hot stream of water. Thank goodness for heaters. I scrub myself down, meticulously. Stopping just before the point where skin breaks. When will I ever feel clean?

1.49am

I watch myself in the mirror. Who am I? I do not know the answer. I pick up my razor and start to clean it under running water. I run my thumb across the sharp edges and the basin turns a sickly red. Holding the cold steel against the inside of my elbow, I press down. There is a throbbing that begins. My eyes are closed and I feel. Pain. I guide the droplets to the red sea. The swirling makes my head spin. My inner thighs ache to be taken care of. I sit. The razor glides across. A bandage at the ready, I wrap my thighs up as tight as it can go. Why am I so imperfect?

2.13am

I lay atop my 10 000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Wondering if life will always be this cruel to me. Even though I shut my eyes, I am too weak to stop the waves of memories from crashing over me. I am swept away and my barriers shatter. I am forced to relive the same memory a hundred times over.

3 years ago

2.37am

I lay in my nightgown, contemplating. The material is as thin as the blanket over me; the mattress as hard as his heart; the air as cold as the blood that runs through his veins. I don’t have a thing left to my name. Heck, am I still entitled to a name? I am like the glass on the bedside table – brittle. I am shattered. What is it like? To be pure. Untouched. I long to feel how I felt just a few hours before. I was fearless. I was strong. I was still Tess.

1.42am

I am falling into a deep sleep, the events of the day that had just passed slipping out of my grasp. All is calm until the blanket is torn from me. A bitter blast assaulted me. There is a man. He squeezes my neck with a fury and smacks my face with the back of his hand. Tears spring forth from my eyes. He releases my neck only to pin my arms together at the top of my head. He spreads my legs apart and smirks as he stares at my bosom. “Why, you are so delightfully fleshy,” he remarks. His knees dig into my thighs and I am immobile. He shreds me apart, inside out and devoured me. Betrayed. Invaded. Ashamed. My face stained with the tears that kept coming. He leaves contented, but not before taking my dignity with him. He is proud. He is certain I will not utter a word. He is right. He is always right. He was my best friend.

3.52am

I pick at fresh scabs, intent on releasing my blood-red passions. To let the bitter poison that flows within me out. I am haunted. The pillow is soaked through. I am overcome with a rage that pumped in my veins. I pick up the glass and smashed it against the wall. Shards of glass showered over me. I scour the ground for larger pieces. I picked the biggest piece up and started to carve away at my flesh. I feel my heart beat slowing down. The tears stop falling. As I make my way to my personal ending and towards a new beginning.

I                 begged for FORGIVENESS

Am             I too UNDESERVING?

Not            for REDEMPTION, I begged

Strong       GUILT hangs on my head

Enough     is enough.