The Vain Theft

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The room was pitch—black. Towering shadows danced frantically on the cracked bathroom door. The low ceiling was covered with their skeletal fingers that awaited to grasp Kayla and tear her apart. They threatened her. They frightened her and tormented her pitiful soul.

Turning five was not something to be proud of, after all. It meant you were too big to sleep beside Mommy and that you were responsible for deterring spirits who lurk and linger around you at midnight.

Since last week’s memorable birthday party, Kayla never felt safe when the clock struck nine at night.

“On the bed, Kay!” the frightful command goes, followed by echoes of ghastly phantoms who seek to torture the shivering timid child.

Kayla hid under her quilt and pretended to feel Mommy’s comforting warmth. She imagined Mommy’s tender touch and longed for an escape from the ruthless situation. Despite her attempt to battle her fears, they pierced their blade-like fingers through her quilt; their grotesque faces mocked at her tears which dribbled down her pained rose face.

Creek…creek…a soft sound interrupted the hollow silence. Creek…The sound echoed in the narrow corridor in front of her bedroom. It grew louder…and louder — until… slam! The front door was shut close.

An apparition didn’t tap at the front door, nor did it reveal itself from beneath Kayla’s wooden bed. But something — far more terrifying — entered the house.

Kayla trembled and sat alarmed. She clasped her tiny hands together and watched attentively the narrow corridor. The silence haunted her endlessly.

Closing her bedroom door would be too daring, it would not allow her any form of escape. Peering into the corridor and then into the living room would perhaps lead her to her end.

Hunched yet enormous, an inky shadow slowly emerged. It furtively made Its way into the corridor, looking this way and that way. Its feet dragged across the marble floor, and a weighty sack hung on Its arched back. Then It paused. Scrutinized. And scurried into the kitchen.

Kayla palpitated. Her eyes widened in fright, but she struggled to keep them shut. She curled into a small ball beneath her quilt. Her eyes pleaded for some form of escape.

Its hairy head rotated anxiously towards her room, then towards her parent's room. Thump — the sack was dropped. It stood in the soot-blackened night — observing Its precise movements. Heavy breaths, almost like a groaning hound, murmured into Kayla’s bedroom. It cleared Its coarse throat and suddenly sprang into swift action.

The pantry cupboards swished open- then clicked shut. A small beam of light sparked from Its hand — It searched like a scavenging rat: rappers flung into the air and containers banged against each other. The stove was pulled. Then a tumbler was gingerly placed behind the furnace. Swish — the fridge was opened, and there it bent and began a serious quest.

Kayla groaned in despair, it never seemed to end. Her heart pumped rapidly: it had to be a notorious robber. Someone she would never dare to approach. Someone far worse than a phantom. Someone violent and petrifying.

Behind the furnace, she heard It creeping, Its clothes trailed on the ground. Then… clang! Went the glass that chattered into fragments.

The lights immediately were switched on. Mommy, in her floral pyjamas, stood, redned and raged.

“ Travis, I told you the cheese is for tomorrow! Haven’t you got any patience?!” she yelled at her guilty, uniformed husband, who stood beside his heavy briefcase along with the fragments of the broken glimmering glass.

.Khadijah Dilshad