Behind The Veil

The Far Corner (2)

Something moved inside. Ray heard shuffling of feet. He froze and his legs turned jelly. The feet were shifting towards the windows... someone was wearing wooden slippers, for the voice was like the grinding grinding sea salt under a wooden rolling pin. His heart was beating like a crazed prisoner trying to break out of a cell. He couldn't breathe. It dragged its feet, what ever it was, slowly. It was close, very close, almost there–

'Sir!'

Ray jolted.

'What?' He spat despite of his breathlessness.

'You are not allowed here.' A security guard pointed a torch at him from a good distance, 'This place is off limits... how'd you even cross over?'

'I didn't see where I was going, it was dark! I'm leaving.'

'Are you okay?' He frowned from behind is N95 mask, 'You don't look well.'

'What? I'm perfectly fine. Have been in quarantine for more than twenty days, what are you indicating?'

'You look pale, sweaty. Do you have a fever.'

'I bloody don't! You scared me is all...' He finally calmed down and pocketed his hands, 'I'll go back, if that's ok with you.'

'Sure, sir, take care. Stay safe!'

Stay safe, rubbish! He thought as he walked back. Those masks do squat to save one from any virus! All it does is become a sheath between you and someone else who is sick. More over, those in the front-lines get it fit-tested and changed every few hours! How stupid people can be? How easily they get scared? He shook away these thoughts and wiped his face on the back of his sleeve as he walked back to his building through the main gate, ignoring his guard's scrutiny.

Ray couldn't sleep the whole night. He could feel fear creep under his skin and his heart drumming a dull buzz. He could not breath normally. Trying to paint was useless; so was trying to read, write or watch a series. He didn't want to make any coffee. What he could see next might scare him to death!

A new day dawned in a few hours. The same old shadow of his building fell over the far corner of the other. Ray had gone hours without anything to eat or drink; he'd utilised everything in fridge and rest of the stuff lay near the Kitchen window, where the shelves and the slabs were fitted.

Why was fear taking over him? In the end, it was all in his mind. It was nothing. Why should some illusion make him feel down?

His fear turned into an itch. He still didn't know what was inside the window or what he had seen. He'd been so close he could've turned and come face to face with

(A monster? A human? A Zombie?)

whatever was inside the room. The sound of the dragging feet replayed in his mind in a loop. Deep inside his mind, Ray knew he had to know what it was.

How can there be anything as superstitious as a ghost? What if someone was kidnapped and is being held captive there? With this lock-down in the country, no one will find out. They are all fearful and nonsensical!

What if he could save someone and be a hero? What if he could solve a mystery? A prized man, blessed with not only mind and looks, but also a damn good spine!

(Lies... he wanted the adrenaline rush again; the high of knowing what he didn't. Being locked-up in quarantine, his daily rush of solving things, and knowing what other's did not was on the low. Withdrawal?)

He shut his laptop and looked at the window. It was five and past the time for evening cuppa. He didn't realise how numb he was when he walked towards the window. The coffee machine clicked to life and whirred as it squeezed the imported beans, this time Ethiopian. The steam from its metal pipe screamed into the cream and a white froth formed. Ray rotated the cream jar and turned towards the far corner. His eyes lifted slowly for a glance but stayed as a stare. His focus was like hypnosis; he didn't notice the window's glass pane vibrate. He didn't bother as the whirring of the machine stopped with a beeping error, or that he had let go of the jar. The cream spilt over the black marble slab.