The Ghost


Picture by Botho, my sister
The sky from the window looked somber my father said. He had fallen asleep after a glass of ara on that Sunday afternoon. He was alone as we were at Thimphu that winter.  The room had become dark except for the shade of light that fell on the floor, which shone from the streetlight and the moon outside.

He stretched and got up to get out of bed. As he got up, a man was facing him standing in front of him in his bedroom. He could not make out the features. The room was dark. The man glared at him, they stood watching each other for some time. My father said all he felt at that moment was sheer cold fear. The hair at the back of his neck rose in bumps. His heartbeat in his head and he could hear the beating wild and fast. Words choked in his throat and he couldn't speak. He said it was like an invisible hand throttling him as he gasped for air.  It lasted like it seemed for hours.
Slowly he tried to push himself out of bed and the man came closer. He then decided that it was it; he was going to face this form or whatever it was that was before him, be it a man or a demon.

He cursed at the man and flung himself to grab him only to hit the dressing mirror that was facing him. 

Comments

  1. AnonymousMay 7, 2013 at 4:45 AM

    Haha. Nice one, sir. Ara is the cause of many ghosts and evils in people's lives.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. NobuMay 14, 2013 at 9:45 PM

      Yes Langa, Alcohol is most of the time the culprit. You related it very appropriately.

      Delete
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