Third in a Series on Claudeae Starr

Written in the Capricorn cusp of Christmas seven years past, this very short story I conjured in my head is inspired by Tomaso Albinoni's Adagio in G Minor and by a graceful Oriental young lady.


------------------------------------------------------
Do our own ghosts betray us?

Then, no one shall sleep.

The dark looming shadow stood before me in my bed, holding a butcher’s knife ready to slice me open. Without a thought, I wrestled with it but it was too powerful for my own strength. The knife pierced me a few inches above my right chest. Blood oozed out, yet I felt no immediate pain. A cold sting penetrated my flesh. Knowing it might be my last, I shouted my loudest, and it seemed like my insides were almost rammed up my throat.

When one is about to expire, lifeless and cold, the most beautiful memories start to play in the mind. Most dead people have faint smiles on their faces when they lay to eternal rest.

I saw her face again, staring at me this time, expressionless. Falling, falling, falling. Thud.

I woke up in a surreal world, wet with my heavy sweat, panting on the floor. It was a bad dream. I felt my chest, when I looked down, a smear of blood stained my white sleeping chemise on the spot where I supposedly was stabbed. However, not even a scar was on my skin.

I rolled up a quarter of my rather long white pyjamas, before I walked down the kitchen to drink water. My white furry tabby cat lay beside the ball at the foot of the stairs when I passed her by.

While gulping down half a liter of lukewarm water, I thought I saw a dark shadow pass just outside my kitchen French window. The hairs on my nape stood, and a tingling sensation went down my spine.

Blog. Blog. Smash. Meow.

The sliding glass door close to the stairway shattered, frightening tabby, she shrieked. Someone broke into the house. Tabby leaped and ran towards me. Just in time when I caught tabby in my hands, the lights went out. The moon was the only source of light that starless night.

When one is in panic, the only thing in mind is survival.

I turned the knob of the kitchen door to escape, but this was rammed. I was about to turn on the emergency light when the dark figure loomed five meters away from me in the kitchen. It had an abnormal shape, disfigured, and seemed to be hairy. It growled and mumbled.

Clutching the knife set, I darted the biggest and hit the figure on the chest. With tabby on my left arm, I took the chance to flee. The dark figure grimaced in pain but managed to claw my ankle. I took another knife and aimed it on the eye. This time, tabby and I escaped.

The clouds moved in and hid the moon. It was pitch dark and I groped my way out with tabby. When I reached the smashed glass door, a man stood there in plastic coat. He grabbed me by the neck and strangled me.

I dropped tabby and she shrieked and clawed the stranger. The man kicked tabby and purred in pain, landing on the thicket in the prairie.

I struggled with the man and did not imagine this to be the end. Gasping and out of breath, I poked my middle finger into his eye, and bit into his leather-like skin. I dug my teeth into his flesh and he shouted as if this was his last. He let go of my neck. I looked up, and it rained on me.

I shivered. It was all a dream.

Tabby pushed the glass full of water on top of my headboard and woke me up from my nightmare. She purred and leaped out my bed. I felt my chest and looked down. There was that bloodstain, but no wound.

I took a towel to pat dry myself and changed into a new pair of white pyjamas. When I was about to put on my white sleeping chemise, I heard a horse gallop and a dog howl. Tabby leaped and ran out. I abandoned dressing up.

I followed tabby out of the house and into the pitch dark, starless night. She led me into a clearing where a faint weep originated.

From the bushes we peered from, I saw a beautiful lady, dressed almost like a fairy in a flowing white dress. She knelt before a white, wounded dying horse. She caressed the horse’s mane, and a tear trickled down the eyes of the horse. It breathed for the last time, slithered, and expired.

I stared at her oriental sad eyes when she wept. My heart broke. Tabby purred and nudged me.

The instant I saw her weep, I wanted to know her. I walked out of the bush and went up to her, then genuflected.

“Who are you?” I inquired.

She slowly opened her weeping eyes, looked at me and replied with a name, “Claudeae Starr.”