Julie

Ten P.M., Friday

I can’t sleep. The bed feels cold on the other side. I stretch my fingers, reaching the pillow to feel Julie’s warmth. She is not there. Her scent slowly fades with time since she left me three months ago. Leukemia they said. One day, she was excited to go for vacation trips overseas, the next day, I found her lifeless on the bed beside me. She went away in her sleep. No sound. No gurgling. Just a silent peaceful death. Her funeral was simple-only family members, and some friends came to pay their respect. That’s what she would want it to be. That’s not what I wanted it to be. I yearn to go back in time and be with her, in living and to be wherever she is right now.

I look at the State’s Almanac on the drawer beside our bed. 14th July, tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. Our beach photos and a bottle of sleeping pills arranged neatly beside the almanac. Without me realizing, our photo is already in my hands. Her gaze – staring at me with her round hazel eyes and a wide smile that could melt even the coldest hearts. It feels like yesterday, when we strolled the beach with our hands forming a knot. A young girl gave her a piece of red hibiscus; she took it gracefully from her tiny fingers and put behind her left ears. As we sat on the rock, looking at the horizon as the sun sets, her rosy scent drifted as the slow breeze passed through us. I remember, she always says, ‘Benjamin, I love you through and through from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for letting me in your heart.

I still remember, when the doctor gave us the damning prognosis. When the radiance dissipated from my face, hers was hardened. Determined and oddly defiant. She faced the sudden news like a true warrior. As I sat on the chair with my hands covering my teary face, she walked to me, held my face with her pearly hands and said, ‘Benjamin, I love you through and through from the bottom of my heart. Please don’t cry.’ It was hard even harder for her. Yet, she fought the disease valiantly. In the end, she lost gracefully. The past three months were daunting. I was lost – like a lamb went astray from its herd. Alone and exposed. I am, without direction and purpose in life. Our son, Albert visited me often. I know, he works in the next city hundreds of kilometres away. But he still checks on me. Sometimes, I feel more like a burden than a father to him. One thing I am grateful for, he turned out well with jobs and he has a girlfriend. She is gorgeous, but she is not in the same league as Julie.

Eleven-fifty P.M., Friday

It’s time for cake and soda. I pre-ordered the cake from Cynthia’s Bakery four months ago. Totally forgotten about it for the last three months as I was busy drowning myself in grief and misery. Until yesterday, Cynthia called – she told me to pick up the cake. When I arrived and was about to pay for it, she frowned and said I had already paid last week and I was like, okay. It does not cross my mind that I might probably is sick in the head at that time. Now I think I’m sick in the head.

I place the chocolate cake on the round dining table along with two plastic cups and a bottle of soda ready to be served. The cake has ‘Happy 31st Anniversary Julie!’ on it. Her favourite song plays in the background on loop from the television. She was a good dancer, decent at best and I am still wondering about which step should I take after the other. But we always made it. Eventually... We would skirt around the living room like swans gliding over the water. With her at the helm, I feel secure and confident with my steps. I startles when I hear knockings from the front door. The lit candles have melted completely on top of the cake, covering the top surface with pink wax slop. ‘How long did I space out?’ I wonder.

Three more knocks at the front door, they are slow, deliberate and mechanical. My body starts to shiver, the chair cold to the touch and the music distorts and fade into the background. I have never felt this cold before in this neighbourhood. It reminds me of the winter in Canada, where Julie and I went once for vacation. Julie got sick, so we had to shorten our vacation time there. Once we arrived home several days later, we both swore not to step our foot in Canada again. This… feels, different. The air is supposed to feel warm and humid, we are in the middle of a drought season, where one expects the grass to turn yellow and withers, the news of wildfire coming through town and lines of people queuing in front of the water tanker for their turn to get clean water ration from the council. Besides, the front porch has been dark in the past three days when the bulb burst. I have no plan to replace it yet. So, who in their right mind would come and knock on the front door of a dark house deep in the middle of the night?

I tiptoe towards the door and peep outside through the peephole. Nothing. I could only see my car and the sleeping neighbourhood. The house feels warm and humid again. That’s weird. Perhaps, it was just a prank. You know, how kids nowadays prank people, the trends are getting worse these days.

I walk back to the kitchen, scrap the melted wax from the surface and cut a piece of cake while having soda. It still tastes delicious without the creams on top of it.

Two-thirty A.M., Saturday

It happens again. The same knocks wake me up from my sleep. I look at the clock, half past two in the morning. Knock. Knock. Knock. I crawl out of the bed and peek out from my bedroom window. I could see the front door from here. Nobody in front of the door. The knockings have come to a stop. The shivering came and disappeared as soon as the knockings stopped.

I pick up the baseball bat and a flashlight, walk towards the front door and swings the door open. I aim the flashlight at the surrounding area, circles the car and the outer perimeter of my house. Everything is clear. As I walk back towards the front door, I see it. Wet footprints facing the front door, and the smell of Julie’s favourite perfume lingers in the air. The warm air whistles with a slight touch of chill in my ears: Honey, let me in…

As I freeze at the door, the entire place starts to get cold again, this time, trail of footprints appears from the street to the porch ending at the front door facing me. ‘Julie, is that you?’ I ask.

The voice whispers again, closer this time, ‘Honey, let me in. I’m cold.’

Shiver reverberates throughout my whole body. My instinct leads me to grip the doorknob and slam the door, locking myself inside. What on earth is that? I turn on all the lights and barricade myself in bedroom. I grab my smartphone and immediately opens the CCTV apps. We had the camera installed right in the front door in the past because of the robberies that had been happening in the last few years thanks to Julie’s constant nagging about the house security. I set the replay button to 00:00, a woman with long black hair appears in the display. She wore a white flowery dress, and a red hibiscus flower in her left ear. She knocked the door for a few times before disappearing in the mist.

My heart pounding heavily; I could literally hear it. Julie? I set the replay button to 02:30 this time. The same woman appeared from the street, walking towards the door and knocked it three times. She stood there, slowly turned her head towards the camera. It was Julie. Her skin smoother than pearls and she looked younger, but she lost the lushness of a living beauty. She looked beautiful yet there is something dark within that beauty, something ominous ready to pound you when you take your eyes off her. She flashed a smile at the camera, revealing slightly jagged teeth and sharper canine. Her hazel eyes have turned bright red; she remained static before vanishing into thin air once I opened the door. Leaving only the wet footprints facing me.

Cold sweat drips from my temple. My pyjamas start to wet from the sweating, and I think I piss myself, but only three drips. I think. I know what’s coming. I read it in a thick book when I was in Primary School. About the mysterious being that haunts people in the night, feeding off their insecurities and fears. Tempting them deeply to embrace the ones they love – yet has perished into eternity. Some calls them vampires; others call them the creatures of the night. Tonight, it came to see me. Sensing my loneliness and misery of missing my dear wedded wife.

The place turns chilly again. Now, Julie is staring at me, begging me to let her in. I lean at the bed headboard. Swiping the photo gallery on the phone. Glancing at each photo, my eyes are blur by the tears streaming down my face. Julie, Albert and I during our happier times. That was in the past. I take a piece of paper, write length sentences, folded and insert into an envelope. Then, I place the envelope on the study desk.

Three A.M., Saturday

I sit at the edge of the bed, staring at the sleeping pill bottle on top of the drawer, wondering how it would feel like to fall into eternity by gulping the entire bottle. The thought of pain and peril I must endure repels me from moving on with that idea.

Julie is still waiting for me from outside the window. I close my eyes and takes a deep breath. Turning on her favourite song, ‘Die with A Smile’. Today, it became my favourite song too. I fix my gaze towards Julie. Her pale pearly hands holding the window, ‘Honey, please. Let me in.’

I look at her with a compassionate eye, ‘Come in Julie, I’m ready.’ I swing open the window and open my arms wide as she lunges towards me. We glide like swans over the water; she guides me as we dance gracefully in the bedroom. When her head moves towards my neck, I could feel the prickling sensation a few seconds later. It feels ominous yet sweeter than honey. As seconds past by, my consciousness and memories start to fade. We dance, and dance until everything goes dark.

‘Happy Anniversary my dear.’

An excerpt from The Morning News on 19th July 2023:

GRIEVING MAN VANISHED OVER THE WEEKEND

KUCHING – An elderly man, Benjamin Igan was reported missing after a colleague realized that he has not come to work for three days. According to multiple reports, he was last seen wandering aimlessly around Sentosa neighbourhood while his house was blasting music, apparently his late wife’s favourite song.

When the police came to his house, they were greeted by a half-eaten cake, an envelope directed to his son, Albert and trails of wet footprints across the bedroom. A search and rescue operation has been initiated by the police with the help of the public.

If you see Benjamin, please call the nearest police station.