Diary of a Detective

Vision

7/12/1997 7.04am Hanna's house

Complete, utter darkness. Tejas walks without seeing, without knowing, wandering in the endless void of black. He calls out, but nothing comes from his dry mouth. Where is he? He turns his head desperately, searching for anyone, anything in this nothingness.

All of a sudden in the distance a glimmer catches Tejas' eye. He staggers in that direction, groping at the air, blind. Another glint. Closer. A rusty, crimson blade of steel. A sinister laugh, oddly familiar to Tejas. The blanket of fog that is his mind struggles to place a finger onto the voice. A distant yell in the distance, to the left. Another voice. Was that the mayor’s? Old as he was, his hoarse voice was recognisable anywhere.

Another scream, this one closer, to the right. Tejas freezes. That was the fortune-teller’s voice. Despite having only visited her once (for advice on his job prospects, he remembers regretfully, as a detective), he was sure he wasn’t mistaken. The voices echo into the darkness. He reaches out with both hands, despairing, pawing at nothing, sightless. He stands absolutely still, afraid to even move. He is panting. Silence.

Suddenly behind Tejas comes Kuvam's voice. A pleading whimper, desperate, fearful, echoing, echoing in the chasm of black. He yells Kuvam's name, panicking, turning and stumbling and falling. Irvine's terrified scream pierces his ears as he hits the ground, coming from above, from below. Below. The floor upon which a petrified, shaken Tejas lies disappears, and he drops. Weightless. Unfeeling. He screams, his silent mouth contorted in a soundless cry of pure terror. The air all around Tejas takes form, a tempest whipping at his face, shrieking and mocking and cackling and wailing, until one last voice emerges from the cacophony. "Henrique is dead. It's Hanna." Repeating, distorting. Henrique. Hanna. Henrique. Hanna. Tejas feels himself being grabbed, shaken by strong hands. Plummeting, plummeting into the abyss.

Tejas' eyes fly open. He gasps, heart racing. Above him, the concerned, slightly disturbed face of his assisting officer. "Did you... hear me?" She ventures hesitantly. "You were yelling and screaming in your sleep. I said, Henrique is dead. It's Hanna here." Tejas sits up, heart palpitating in between ragged breaths. The back of his shirt is soaked in sweat. He is in the bushes in front of Hanna's house.

"Tejas? Are you okay?" Hanna asks, getting worried. "What's wrong with you, and why are you asleep at my house?" Tejas stands, back covered in dirt and grass. "I'm... fine." He murmurs, brushing Hanna off. "Sleepwalking." He starts heading for his house.

"Wait!" Hanna calls. "Didn't you hear me? There's been another murder, at Henrique's house. The village blacksmith. The house next to mine." Tejas continues walking. "Just handle it. I'm off today." He throws back. He is angry. Bitter. He fell asleep while he was staking out. He let the murderer slip away. He is almost certain Hanna is behind all this. Orchestrating everything behind closed doors. Killing her own neighbour while Tejas slumbered, oblivious. His head feels like it had been hammered in. At this rate, he wouldn't even need the killer for an untimely demise.