Sounds

Startled, I whirled around. There had been a noise- human laughter. I strained my ears as the lyrics of a traditional ballad started playing. A cold shiver ran through me, the legend about inexplicable noises in the attic was true.

The century-old bungalow with immaculate balustrades, unkempt hedge, and not so functional light sockets contributed to the eeriness. For a long time, I did nothing, paralyzed with fear, my brain conjuring all sorts of horrific scenarios.

As the wind howled and subsided, a curious feeling was born, the kind which always kills the cat. Gathering all my courage, I pushed open the carved doors which creaked and moaned, and for a moment I thought of dashing down the stairs.

The song about jilted love, feeble yet amplified by feeling, increased in tempo. I remembered Kaka, the cook, telling the kids about how a woman's unrequited love brought destruction to the family that lived in the bungalow before us. However, now bolstered by adrenaline, I crept forward. Dust, dry leaves, overturned furniture, and other oddities greeted me. The song's pitch rose and fell with the music, the music of trinkets. The wind howled louder making the dust fly everywhere. Then, I saw it.

A gramophone, dusty yet so elegant sat amidst the sofa bolsters- the source of the song. A mirror, broken into a thousand pieces lay around it. Finally, the dots connected together - the mystery of 'the sounds' was solved, that is until I felt gnarled hands choking me.