A Place Without Light – Chapter One

The Day Before

The big old house on the extreme left  from ours was the last one on our street. It seemed like it  had been standing there in silence forever. Ever since we moved to Brick Bend, and that was five years ago, I have no recollection of ever seeing anyone enter or leave the house. It had just stood there with moss growing on its dark facade. It was a bleak brown wooden house that perhaps had too many staircases leading to too many rooms.

Until a few years ago I was filled with an innate curiosity to explore its interiors, to see what it might  look like inside, but my friends and I never got to satiate that one deep concern. How on earth were we going  get inconspicuous about entering the house when on several occasions,  a swarm of huge black hornets that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, attacked us as soon as we set foot on its front porch? I remember clearly, running for our lives and never went back particularly since Sara got stung by one of the venomous hornets. It took her an entire year to recover. She never was quite the same after the hornet attack.

However the rest of us recovered the blatant shock in which we had fled from the scene three times in a row.  I had already been grounded thrice and now anticipated a bigger catastrophe if I tried to break into the house once again.
“Don’t you get it Malin? You could end up in jail if you repeatedly try to break into other people’s property. Be sensible please, otherwise we have to resort to a more drastic measure other than just grounding you,” Froth had settled in the corners of my mother’s mouth when she ejected her warning in full volume.
If there were people living in that house, which I am sure there were, as I had seen a light on in one of the rooms once or twice, I continued to fervently wonder what they looked like and what they were like. Call it adolescence obstinacy or simply a deficient mind at work but no degree of warning abated my curiosity. Secretly, I promised myself that I wouldn’t rest until I would enter that house. Of course it was a wishful thinking. I should have known better. However, I was only human.

Yesterday was different. For the first time in my life I saw a vehicle parked in front of the house. A gigantic black SUV. It stood stagnant just like the house and it carried an air of reckless existence, of  being driven on rough grounds, on mountainous roads, muddy roads as well as concrete tar roads. The wheels looked worn and overused.  The pitch black windows that were rolled up tightly reflected my face as one carrying a contorted expression. Tis’ perhaps the convex shape of the windows that made me look so, I dismissed.  Unexpectedly as it was, the light on the window on the right corner of the house looking down towards the street, snapped on, which made me tear my eyes away from the vehicle and look upwards. I jolted as I saw a silhouette of a figure standing by the window, shaded against the light that illuminated the room. It was peering down at me. I was dead certain, for I thought I saw a pair of eyes glow a certain iridescent orange. Nausea gripped my throat as I was held captive by the bizarre stare. Unable to breathe and unable to blink I stood petrified.
“I am coming to get you!”
A hoarse whisper echoed somewhere far away in the hollow of my mind.I don’t quite remember when I picked up my cycle that lay on a careless heap by the vehicle and without a single breath escaping neither my mouth nor nose, I  pedaled home, because in an instant I found myself dismounting my bike in front of my house. Sleep eluded me that night and each instance I looked towards my window, a pair of orange eyes glowered through the white cotton curtains.

Then, the very next day I was abducted from the very same road I had walked and cycled thousands of times, with and without my peers. This morning, the sinister memory from the night before, oddly seemed to have lost its substance. Or perhaps I had put a lid on to it, blocking the entire horror of it. I knew this road like the back of my hand because it was one that I used most. I could walk home from the library with my eyes closed. Yesterday was just like any other day for me, leaving home precisely at 7 a.m. Heading straight for the library where I had to complete the final paragraphs of an essay. With a copy of a Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe neatly tucked under my arm, I walked back straying my cycle along, lost in my own reverie. I hadn’t had time to call any of my friends and enlighten them on the latest progress on house no. 9 on Brick Bend. I was saving that for the evening.

On the spur of the moment, someone jumped at me from behind. I never got a chance to turn around and get a glimpse of  my assailant, as a pair of gloved hands closed on my mouth and nose with some kind of a swab the pungent smell of which assaulted my nostrils within a second giving birth to havoc within me. Inside my head, a lamp glowered brightly at first and then faded into darkness. The last thing I remember is my limbs growing as heavy as branches of a felled  tree.

To be continued….

Read the Prologue
Read Chapter Two

3 Responses to “A Place Without Light – Chapter One”

  • sulekha says:

    Oh wow…what a start to a fabulous story!!! Don’t keep me waiting for long for the next chapter please.

  • Swati Bhattacharya says:

    I’m breathless with anticipation….hurry up with the next chapter please…loving it Yoshay!

  • Kriti says:

    Can’t wait – can’t wait – can’t wait for more. You have taken us back to Enid Blyton days with this and I am so loving it! You have a fantastic way with words Yoshay and this from someone who will remain your fan forever and ever. Love always…

Leave a Reply

Yoshay Lama

I welcome you warmly to my blog. This is the resting place of most of my creative work. This blog consists of book reviews, articles, poems, mere reflections and excerpts from my stories.

Please feel free to read and comment. I appreciate my readers tremendously.

Follow Me on Pinterest



    bloglovin    bloglovin
© Yoshay's Blog. All Rights Reserved.