Pantomaniac

Chapter 1

The air stung with smoke. Everything was silent except for the hint of wind. It was like a gentle breeze that swept beneath the ear for a few seconds before it got swallowed by the haze. Zulkefli's vision was smeared through his watery eyes, as his hands reached out. He tried to grab on to something, anything, as he made his way forward.

He tried to remember where he was. He searched his brain, scoured every inch of it for an answer. But nothing emerged. He could not even remember where he was or what he was doing before he came to that place.

He looked around. There was nothing. Only smoke. And an endless stretch of space. At that moment, he realized that his heart was beating harder and harder against his chest, fighting to jump out of his body. It was then that he realized he could even hear the sound of his heart beating. That was how dead the silence was. The soundlessness of his surroundings pierced through him like a spear. It sent shivers up his spine.

That was when he saw her.

A child was standing several feet away from him. At first, he only spotted a glimpse before the smoke enveloped her. Her face would emerge every few seconds but never long enough for him to make out who she was. But he noticed that her face was oddly...white.

Zulkefli stood rooted to the ground. He waited and waited, willing for the smoke to clear. The moment it did, he squinted. He gasped when he saw what was on her face.

A mask.

He took a step forward. Then another. And another. When the smoke cleared again, he saw that it was no ordinary mask. It was...a mime mask. The shape of a diamond was painted on her right eye, broken into halves by the hole through which her eye was staring at him. Except he could not see her eyes. Her eyes were entirely white. No eyeballs. Just white!

She stared back at Zulkefli. He froze. Seconds later, the smoke no longer came and went. It started thinning out. Second by second, he could see the mime child more clearly. The drumming in his chest accelerated, rivalling the speed at which the smoke was clearing. Zulkefli clutched his chest, as if trying to stop his heart from leaping out of his chest.

When the smoke cleared, he finally saw her clearly. Her hair ran down her shoulders, taking Zulkefli's eyes to her white dress. It matched the mask on her face. Even though the mask covered her entire face, he felt those eyes and lips piercing through his head. She was not moving but just by standing there, she sent chills down Zulkefli's spine. She was like a statue but her presence stretched for yards.

For a moment, nothing happened. She looked at him. He looked at her. The smoke that wrapped the surroundings did not return. It was as if her presence scared it away.

Zulkefli's mind raced. It bounced inside him, fighting to solve the dilemma. Should he approach her? Should he turn around and run? Who was she? Why did she bring him there? Failing to decide, he stood rooted to the ground, hoping that whatever it was he was seeing, whatever it was he was going through, would end. He wanted to leave that place.

In the next second, he felt his body tapping into an autopilot mode. He took a step forward. He looked down at his feet. They were moving. One step. Then another. And another. When he looked back at the mime, she was taking one step backwards. Each time she did that, he took one forward. They were moving in synchrony! She was pulling him. Whoever it was behind that mask was pulling him. Zulkefli tried to stop but his feet refused to stay put. They were tangoing in the black night, as he tried to stop himself from being pulled by the invisible string.

Then it started smoking again. At first, all he could see were traces of smoke around him. But as seconds grew, and as he continued moving forward, the fog-like presence became thicker and thicker. His hand shot up to his mouth. He tried to block the smoke from entering but the sting seeped right through his fingers. Soon enough, he felt it stabbing at his nose. His breaths became shorter as he fought to inhale. Coughing, Zulkefli grabbed his chest. His eyes were stilled fixed on the girl but one of his hands started massaging his chest, willing for his airway to open up.

But the smoke only grew thicker.

The mime finally stopped retreating. Zulkefli managed to stand still. But not for long. His throat was closing up. And his vision began to blur. The smoke thickened, slowly wrapping the girl. It had formed a swirl around her body. It looked like she was standing in the middle of a hurricane.

First her feet disappeared. Then her body. It was like her head was floating in the air. A white mime mask with nothing but the smoke to keep it mid-air. Zulkefli's mind raced. What in the world was happening? His legs gave way. His knees buckled and he retched, emitting thick, yellow liquid onto the ground. His eyes stung. His chest burned.

When he looked up, the mime was gone. He coughed out as much as he could and when his airway finally opened up, Zulkefli scanned the area. The hair on the back of his neck stood.

She was still there.

Just as Zulkefli was about to stand up, themime's mask appeared right in front of him. Zulkefli fell backwards. He triedshoving the mime away with his hands but it kept coming towards his face. Untilthey were only inches apart.