That Night

Yes. He cannot be mistaken about those piercing, green eyes. That's it.

She was her feline companion as long as she lived, and true to her name, she shadowed her to the grave too.

That night it was just as menacing and stormy. He had everything planned. He had to act fast to put things to rest. She was, anyway, an invisible entity. Her prolonged sickness had bound her to the wheels. No one will miss her.

As for him, he will finally be free in years! No more attending to those incessant cries and moans in the odd hours or paying the surging medical bills. He had become broke, but salvation was not far.

That night, as she lay moaning in bed — he grabbed his pillow and muffled her face. He sat upon her fragile frame, as she writhed in pain. The struggle lasted fifteen minutes, and he did not move until he was sure that even the last traces of life were puffed out from that delicate frame.

The black Shadow had to be put to rest too. She was the prime witness to this heinous act.

He just remembered — he was back after a year in Hawaii on the very day it could have been her 36th (if she were alive), and now 1st (now that she’s gone)!

He was finally moving on — his book had made it to the bestseller and times were looking up. Publishers and agents were queuing to sign him up for a contract. But….he knew from someplace inside that she wouldn’t allow the good times to last —- not after what he did to her that night.

Is it sleep paralysis, or is it happening?

With wild, bewildered eyes he saw the heavy, black creature with icy, green eyes weighing him down his chest just the way he did to her a year back on this fateful night. Outside the room in the passage, the rolling wheels screeched to a halt.

From the corner of his eyes — beads trickling down his forehead — he turned to see the door open. A black sitting silhouette appeared as the wheels started rolling again towards the bed and stopped short.

The air turned heavy with rapid breathing. Will he live to see another day?