Shroud: Jinn

2 - Marked

"It's going to be sunrise soon." Melati voiced out her concern as she struggled to get up from her prayer mat. It was 5:30 a.m. on a Friday. "I wished you could have led the Fajr prayer. It would be nice to see you as an imam once in a while..." she trailed off, sadness coating her voice.

I rolled over to the other side of the bed and faced my back towards her. I always felt an immense sense of guilt whenever I see my wife praying. I was not a devout Muslim like her. My late father was a Chinese Buddhist but converted to Islam when he fell in love and married my late mother, who was a Malay Muslim. Their marriage placed a huge strain on his relationship with my grandmother. Let me just say that I learnt more curse words and insulting phrases in Hokkien than I ever did in Arabic verses from the Quran.

I stifled an agonising wince when I felt her hand brushed my right toe as she placed her white prayer garb beside my foot on the bed. She immediately noticed my painful expression and sat on the bed, careful not to touch my toe again.

"Shouldn't you get it checked?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

I sat up, rested my back against the headboard, chuckled and squeezed her hands as I looked into her eyes reassuringly, "I'm a doctor, remember? I've done X-ray and tests on it. I even had another doctor look at it. Everything's fine." I looked down at my big right toe that was swollen and had an unnatural bruise. It had been three weeks since the strange incident and yet the mere thought of it still made me shudder. Instead of shrinking and healing, the swell seemed to grow in size. The bruise which had originally started at the tip had now spread to the bottom of my toe. I lied about going to another doctor for a second opinion; I wanted to put Melati's mind at ease. I knew this was something that even science could not explain. I sighed deeply, "Relax. Nothing to worry about. It'll heal soon, eventually..." The last word was more of assurance for me than it was for my wife.

"You should be more concerned about yourself and the baby," I bent my head downwards and gave a little kiss on her belly.

"I'm nervous," she said quietly.

"You've done this before. You've got this," I said encouragingly.

"I know. It's just-"

"It's just what?" I moved closer to her and squeezed her hands tighter.

"I have this sickening feeling that it's not going to be okay this time." The sentence sent an icy chill down my spine and I gulped uneasily. I had no idea why but my eyes went to look at the window where I last saw the 'thing' disappeared. The shutters that I had supposedly closed for the night was now open slightly.

"It will be. You worry too much." I kissed her forehead gently and slowly got up from the bed. "I should get to work. Don't worry about making breakfast for me. I'll get some from the street hawker near the masjid. I can get something for you and Saleha if you want?"

"It's okay," Melati shook her head, gestured for my right hand and kissed it warmly. "Assalammualaikum (Peace be upon you)."

"Waalaikumsalam (Peace be upon you too)," I kissed her forehead, closed the window shutters in the room and left.

Melati no longer questioned why I kept closing the shutters in our house at night. I made up an excuse as a concerned husband and explained that I did not want her to catch a cold. It would not be good for her or the baby. In truth, I was terrified of coming face to face with whatever that thing was that violated my toe that night.

Seconds later, I moved as daintily as I could as I walked past Saleha's bedroom. The wooden floorboards creaked noisily below me even as I placed my feet gingerly at each step. I pushed the curtain that hung at the archway quietly to one side and peeked into her room. I was surprised to see her awake and sitting on the floor, her back towards me and her front facing the opened window. Her head was looking downwards. She was dressed in a white prayer garb.

I have not seen her pray before. Did Melati teach her how to pray when I was at work?

I motioned closer towards her, planning to softly chastise her as she did not face the qiblah (the direction of the Kaabah in Mecca) and was facing the wrong direction during salah (obligatory prayer). She was in fact, facing the opposite direction of the qiblah. Facing the wrong direction during the five mandatory daily prayers would have nullified her prayers and I was only doing my fatherly duty to remind her.

As I entered the room and approached Saleha's back, I involuntarily shivered. The air that floated around me was cold and I brushed it off due to the shutters of the window being opened wide. The cool and crisp air must have found their way inside the room. Venturing closer towards Saleha, I noticed that she was not seated on her prayer mat. Shaking my head and sighing, I reached out to tap her gently on the shoulder but stopped abruptly when I heard her called out behind me.

"Baba?" I turned around sharply and saw her standing and looking confused in her nightdress. She peered behind me and asked, "What are you doing?"

I flipped my body around to face the direction of the window and was shocked to find my daughter - who was supposedly in prayer garb and praying - gone.

I heard a familiar faint hiss near the window and caught a glimpse of a pair of red blazing eyes disappearing to the far corner of the house. There was a dull chaotic rattle like the sound of "things" being flopped against the wall. My mind drifted towards the image of the thing that I saw three weeks ago. I immediately imagined floppy, dangling bloody intestines and organs being smacked against the exterior of the house.

"Baba?" Saleha called out to me again, sounding more confused than before as I rushed to close the wooden window shutters.

I quickly sank my knees to the ground and placed my hands on my eight year old's shoulders. I moved a few strands of curly locks behind her ear and said firmly, "Stay in Mama's room, okay? Keep her company until morning."

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CREDITS:

Background Music: Vivek Abhishek - Melencholy | Sad Creepy Background Music | Copyright Free | Vivek Abhishek

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