tales of Suchita

As you sleep, curled into your side, a blanket raised right up to your shoulder, something moves in the darkness. You don’t sense anything in the beginning, asleep as you are. Confident that a closed door will protect you from events that may mean you harm.

A feeling, like a warm hand pressed into the small of your back, is the first indication that something is amiss.

The hand is almost enough to break your slumber but you’re too deep into the clutches of the sandman to really pay attention to what is happening around you.

Humans. So weak. So vulnerable. Especially when you sleep.

Its obscene. Where do you get the confidence of closing your eyes, with next to no defences and opening yourself up for things that go boo in the night without a care in the world?

The hand on the small of your back becomes insistent and before you can turn and ask them to move away, you realize, now that your brain is waking up, you are alone. There is no one in bed with you.

You stiffen. Then curl your legs as close to your chest as they’ll go.

I stand there, a part of the shadows. You can’t see me, watching. Waiting.

And then it happens. You open your eyes, still curled in on yourself, staring at me but seeing through me.

I don’t make a sound. Except the creaking of the AC vent that you have been meaning to get repaired for the past two weeks. Except for the fun-aah-fun of the ceiling fan. Except for the faint sound of the water whooshing through the pipes because someone in your building flushed.

I can see your lips moving. I wonder if you’re murmuring a prayer or trying to convince yourself that you don’t feel the weight of my eyes on you.

Humans. So weak. So fascinating. Especially when you sleep.

You close your eyes, successfully convincing yourself that the feeling of someone pulling your leg is just a memory from a movie you had seen in your childhood. There is no one at the foot of the bed, waiting for you to fall asleep before pulling you off.

Your human ghosts may pull such pranks. But me, I do not. My tastes are more delicate. I want to test if I can wake you just by my whispers…by the way I watch you every time you turn.

Am I making you restless? Can you feel the strength of my regard on your body? Through the sweat that beads around your neck as the room heats up? Or the coolness you feel when the room’s temperature plunges? I wonder if you question how such things are possible.

Humans. So weak. So foolish. Especially when you sleep.

---

This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2023 

Photo by Kevin Bosc on Unsplash