At first glance, Vishnu’s room looked like any other 10-year-old boy’s room. A bunch of toys on the floor in one corner, an old study table littered with battered books and worn-down pencils in another, and a heap of musty clothes from earlier that evening’s football match near the bed. Just like any other boy’s room. But not for Vishnu. For him, the room was a place of misery. A place he was forced to sleep in every night by his parents. A place where shadows moved across the walls. A place where the bathroom door creaked open on its own. A place where happiness went to die.
The room was silent if not for the soft swooshing sound of the ceiling fan above the bed. Vishnu lay under the covers. He was covered entirely except for the top half of his face. He made sure that not even a toenail was outside the safety of the covers. He was sweating and the bed below him was damp, but he didn’t dare pull out the covers, jump out of bed, and turn up the fan’s speed.
Something creaked under the bed. Vishnu hoped it was just his mind playing tricks with him. He closed his eyes and waited for the creaking to stop. But it didn’t. The creaking went on below him. Like huge mansions settling in. Like old trees moving in the wind. Vishnu pulled up the covers over the rest of his face. He embraced the warmth that surrounded him. He opened his eyes. The covers blinded whatever light seeped in through the window curtains. The creaking stopped. His mind relaxed and his breathing stabilized. He was just about to pull down the covers when he felt it. A sense of weight above him. The kind that you get when you feel a person standing behind you, breathing down on the back of your neck. He felt the same above him. Someone or something was near him, floating above him, waiting for him to pull down the covers so that it could open its mouth wide, display its sets of yellow shark-like teeth, bite down on his scrawny neck and pull out his throat.
Vishnu’s breathing quickened. He could hear the thuds of his heart and he could feel it trying to punch its way out of his ribcage. He felt the covers near his toes move up. He pulled his leg up slowly. The covers were his only line of defence. Even a second outside in the open would mean game over. And you don’t get three lives like in those video games he loved playing with his buddies from school.
He heard breathing just above him. A few inches away from his face. It was harsher than his. More strained. Much slower. He felt it on his face through the covers. The smell was horrid, like stale eggs. He wanted to scream out loud, jump out of the covers, and run down to his parents’ room. But what if the monster had already eaten them? The thought made him cringe. He was beginning to lose control. He could feel it. He squirmed under the covers. The bed under him became more damp. He felt a sudden tug on the covers, and the cool air hit him like a freight train. Two shiny, expressionless faces stared down at him.
‘Vishnu, what happened?’, one of the faces asked. A sweet voice. His mother’s.
‘It’s okay. Probably a nightmare. I’ll go down and get him some water.’, the other voice said, the last couple of words diminished as the speaker went out of the room. A much harsher voice. His father’s.
Vishnu felt the bed beneath him. It was wet. And it was not sweat.
