Paranoia

I feel awake. I was reminiscing on my past, as I most often do before falling asleep. But then I hear something.

It’s past 2 a.m. I do know my sister and parents have heard footsteps of something walking in the walls in this room before, and that’s what I expect, but it’s not what I hear.

A whimpering, crying-as-if-hurt-like sound of something – a bird? A fox? Human? What could this be?

It’s so weird, and my mind is racing to a million thoughts. I try to feel my sister’s body beside me whenever I feel scared, and she seems far away.

I try to rationalize my thoughts. It could be the cockroaches or lizards that come out at night, or actual birds outside the walls.

But why is it coming from inside the walls? Why is this so out of place and ominous? This whimpering sound stops, and I wait in silence.

The senses in my body have become sharpened now. After a while, I hear a different type of sound from the other end.

Now it seems like a frog-like or a smaller-sized animal is making noises. What is this? One after another.

 It’s as if a demon is trying to mimic the voices of living things, and so every attempt and iteration of its expression is similar and yet different.

My sister makes a slight shuffle, and I feel like the demon will try to mimic the sound of shuffling. Is it?

No, it’s my sister shuffling.

What was it? Something moving from one part to another part of the room. The night is deep and cool, but I am tingling hot.

In these moments, I keep my eyes shut. I should get up and look for the source, but I am afraid.

The reality is never what it seems to be, and that’s how I always convince myself. I am too aware now.

 My body seems to hunger for the next ominous sound. I open my eyes, and the room is dark and hazy.

I asked my family the next day. They laugh it away with me.

My sister tells me that she saw a long-tailed rat one day on the roof of our house. In the rational rays of daylight, the existence of a long-tailed rat family on the roof of our house makes proper sense.

After a few days, a very distinct foul smell emanates from our kitchen walls.

 We look for the source but don’t find anything. We clean every hidden dirty corner of the kitchen as much as we can, but the smell is still there.

The foul smell comes and goes. Sometimes, we don’t smell it at all.

Sometimes, it feels like, the more we look for the source of the smell, the sharper the smell becomes. When we don’t look for the smell, we don’t get the smell. It’s bizarre!

All these circumstances, at the end of the day, are shaped mostly by our mutual involvement. The stimulator plays hide and seek with the reactor. In the midst of this interesting bond, the reactor becomes so paranoid that they torture their own bones and brains for it. But I am not going to be the one to give up, even if the slithering smell and sound remain beyond my grasp.