It was a cold night. I had not expected it, which was why I left my windows wide open to pave way for a cool night breeze. For the past few hours that I had knelt on my bed asleep, it had been extremely peaceful, even though I had slept off saying my night prayers. For hours, I had maintained the posture of a praying lad on top of my bed, saying the second mystery since 9 o'clock. Well, I on my knees and my hands under my face to keep them from touching the pillow was enough to give God the impression that I was with him. Unfortunately, I guess God caught me cheating.
All I know, suddenly, the wind threw the curtains flying and launched attack on me. I grabbed my pillow and curled myself around it like a millipede, hoping to resist the war. I was too lazy. I curled still.The wind grew fiercer and I could hear its music; I could hear its song that was no longer the melody I loved to listen to in evenings as the sun went home. Its song at that moment sounded like an army chanting a chant of war—like it was saying, “Wake up! Wake up…” I could not find any peace in its visit, but I curled still.
When the cold was unbearable, I could have put an end to the whole story by shutting the windows, but I did not, instead, I resorted to my blanket to shield me. With my eyes still closed, I searched, my hand traveled to nearest corners of the bed, hoping to find the gracious body of Esau. For more than one minute, I was on with the tapping exercise I was doing on my bed. My body began to run out of patience. But hey, I made a worst mistake that night—I opened my eyes.
A careless ray of the moonlight had found its way through the thick tall trees surrounding the building, then, into my little bedroom apartment, sharing with the fraction of the room where the bed was, its light, and then shading the rest of the room to vague darkness. Right in front of the light switch, beside the locked door on the other end of the room which fell under the dark side, appeared a figure which I could barely capture through my vision. I could see something white, just before the wall, moving randomly in the air, very close to the ceiling, maintaining its boundaries with the dark side. I fixed my gaze on the figure, trying to solve the puzzle of what shape I could draw from it, but each time I tried harder, it would manipulate itself and make me visualize irregular demonic graphics within my head.
My torch was on my reading table which was partially in the brighter part of the room. It was my nearest hope of unveiling the masquerade. I was so numb. I stretched out my foot to the floor to head for the torch, the figure began to move down to the floor, like it was trying to camouflage. I paused and I watched it. The wind was retreating, my curtains were beginning to fall, the room was getting darker, and I could barely see what I was up against. I stretched out my foot again, and as my first toe felt the floor, there was a sudden great spark throughout my vision, followed immediately by a deafening clash in the sky—the thunder. The wind bashed in, more violent than before, and the curtains flew up again, this time, they kept flapping on the ceiling like a charioteer who could not discuss time with his horses. I noticed one more thing, the moonlight was gone and darkness covered the sky. The darkness in the room now was even and there was no longer a brighter side to guide me. I saw absolutely nothing in the room now, even when I was sure I was face to face with a demon. I guessed my belief in ghosts was coming true; my grandfather had died a month ago.
The sound of the wind, the murmurs from the sky, it was scary.I could not bear one more step into the dark, but I needed that torch. I stood on my feet carefully. I looked around the room and I could only see the outlines of big objects, like my wardrobe and cupboard. I flashed my eyes back to the point where I had seen the ghost; I could not trace where it could be now, but I checked my distance from the reading table and I thought I could make it to the torch. I tiptoed with my long arms stretched out wide ahead of me, speechless, hoping not to provoke the unknown. Whatever it was, it surely meant no good. The wind was still forcing its way through the window which was now behind me. The sky kept murmuring. I was moving slowly but closer to the figure—oh no, if only I could grab that torch.
My hand hit the table. I scratched the table top for the torch. I felt it. I was at the point of grabbing it and pushing the bu*ton when the lightening suddenly sparked again, and I saw it! I saw it! It flew past my head in a flash, I dodged quick and stumbled over the table screaming God's name. The table fell on me, unleashing everything on it upon me. I was panting heavily—a white bat? My sweat pores broke loose. He must be here to destroy me. I had never trusted his ways. All the folktales my grandpa had ever told me when I was a kid were about spirits and how they influence our lives.
“Grandpa, is that you?!” I yelled from the floor, touching around to find the torch. No answer from Grandpa. The torch was becoming too hard to find. The wind was still heavy. But then, I realized that I was at advantage of getting to the light-switch now. I crawled backwards immediately, facing the window, observing every movement across the room. I kept my gaze on the unclear outlines of the creature as I moved. It was quick and abstract. My grandfather had told me that spirits possess bats and use them to make up for their unfulfilled destinies, that is why bats are blind but they move about.
Finally, I hit the wall with my back and in a swift I stood up and hit the light-switch. As soon as the light went on, I was shocked at what I saw. I slipped over the thrill and collapsed. I had been running from my drawing sheet.