Hush Hush

Chapter 4

“Chloorkop?” I peeped in the taxi, daring my sinus to make a scene. Yes, the taxi had a ‘I just took off my sweating feet from soccer boots,’ smell but my nose had to have manners. I perched my vase plank on the front seat. Don’t look at me like that. It was the last seat available and I had to get to that interview. I internally asked for forgiveness to the passengers for possible short change. I was not familiar with the place I was going to, that one loud and the Gauteng lady map told to get of at exactly ext 1 and I did. The worst mistake ever. The place was surrounded by firms/factories but I couldn’t find Lion Match Company. I had to walk down to the nearest Garage and ask for directions. Oh how I hated not having data. The direction I got from the petrol attendant really panned out correct, though the distance to the factory was that of going to the heaven.

“Hi, I’m Lindiswa and I’m here for an interview. I was told to ask for Peter Ndlovu.” The security guard was on her station, she furiously dialled on the phone like someone who skipped breakfast and called l the reception, enquiring if I really had an interview like I would sacrifice my sleep to prank her.

It was indeed a big factory, but I didn’t get lost as the ‘generous’ lady accompanied me to the door. She probably thought I’ll slide in some match sticks.

Five people were also there for the interview, just a little earlier than I was. That lady who read the interview manual of what to wear to an interview slithered her black and white self to the opposite room.

I was next and my nerves weren’t helping. The water I had drank demanded an opening but I couldn’t grant it that. It was almost time for me to pull the dragon’s teeth. Two minutes passed, then four, six and… she appeared, head held high. She was probably taken on the spot for the choir clothes. I was one to judge, I had on my flowered silky top with blank pants. At least there was black, they ought to be grateful for that.

“Hello. Please take a seat,” the dark skinned interviewer said, pointing to the chair. Three interviewers? I probably applied for the minister of transport position.

“Thank you.”

“Do you have your CV with? Please pass it through,” I did and I couldn’t read the lady’s expression as she went through my CV.

“Tell us about yourself Lindiswa,” the lead interviewer said, after they introduced themselves.

Should I start by saying I was born in Eastern Cape and I loved taking walks on the beach?

“Hi, my name is Lindiswa, and I live in Bruma. As far as my experience is concerned, I have worked as a cashier and also worked at an internet café. I am really energetic and a great communicator,”

-

Afternoon, 12:29

I had never been glad to be in the gloomy, lifeless cottage like I was now. It has been a long day though it was a few minutes after twelve. The stairs seemed stretched and far apart today. I didn’t even pass by Ms.Miggins flat to see if she was by any chance back. I was exhausted.

And then there was flat six, the unoccupied one opposite ours. There was nothing immediately remarkable about it - it just had an oarken door and front porch identical to all the others, with a knocker and a bell which would weirdly ring in the middle of the night and a bristly brown doormat.

A brass 'six' was fixed into the middle with nails. Nobody had opened that door to greet us on our arrival, and after all the months passed since we moved here we assumed that the flat was empty. And what could be wrong with that? Nothing, right? Well - I know it sounded crazy coming from a woman of my age but there was something very slightly unnerving about an empty house. I'm sure you've all had a house on your street with no dwellers in it, and I’d bet many of you sometimes got the chills when you walked by it in the evening. Come on, admit it, empty, abandoned houses were creepy.

Well, with flat six, it was like that but... different - worse. All day and all night the empty flat was literally on the doorstep of our home. When we opened our front door to leave in the morning, that ominous door stood in wait for us, looming. When we returned home, we would turn the key in the lock and know that the dreaded door was behind us. Imagination would make us wonder 'what was in that flat' and 'what if it opens right now and comes out?'

Alright, fair enough – that was a bit of exaggeration. It wasn't really that bad - just a little weird, that was all . And I’m ashamed to tell you this but when I said 'we' and 'us' I ought to have said 'I' and 'me' because to be honest with you my husband didn't feel in the least put off by flat six.

Yes - yes, I know. It was shameful, I was a jumpy, nervous sissy - I admit it. We had different teenage years: he went out and saw all the horror films he could, while I saw few enough as to get the creepy side of my mind working but not enough to dampen my imagination. We still went out for a scary one now and again, but I was never the one who suggested it. He always said that the thrill of watching a horror movie was very nice. I didn’t get him. Maybe it was because I was not a fan of horror movies.

Speaking of horror movies and scary stuff, something very weird happened at work. A women, not so old but around her early forties where I went and bought some stuff. When I gave her my payslip as she rummaged through my goods in plastic and looked straight in my eyes, her eyes changed colour as her face became pale. This went on for a while that we stood there staring at each other. It was almost as if she was piercing through my soul, as if she was hypnotizing me. The was this deep connection I felt as my hands let go of the payslip. We got interrupted if I may put it that way by the people after me, who needed to have their payslips checked so they could pass. Some were even angry, murmuring something's under their breath. That was one of the weirdest encounter I had since we got here.

My husband has not been feeling really well the past days but he still insisted on going to work everyday. I suggested that he paid a doctor a visit but he said he will, probably when he gets worse. How crazy was that? I was not ready to be a widow, heck I still looked young and hot to turned into one. What was worse was that I married a very stubborn man. But I loved him. I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

A few minutes later, when I thought I was alone and relaxed, a knock came through. I had left the door opened.

"Is this the Griffiths residence? " My eyes shot up and I was met with a very tall man, who was standing at the doorway, holding what looked like a present, wrapped pretty good. But how did he bypass security? They were suppose to call me and alert me of the visitor, or better yet call me down.

"How the hell did you get inside? What do you want?"

I was scared, no lie. The man didn't look like your typical men that we were used to. He had this dark spirit hovering around him. His presence was weighing me down.

"I'm sorry, I knocked and knocked but no one answered. So I figured I should just open" he said getting closer as I moved back until I fell on the couch. So I did not leave the door open?

"What do you want?" I asked, terrified. He was standing way to near.

"You will have to join us, by choice or force," he commanded. His voice carried so much authority. It wasn't pleading.

"Get away from me you evil man." I screamed but my screams seemed to please him as he smiled widely revealing his yellowish teeth which seemed sharp at the end. This felt like the movies that Paul would usually watch. I bet he wouldn't be scared had it been him. But I was, so much so I felt my panty dampened. The door suddenly closed shut. I didn't want to look. I kept my eyes tightly closed and put my hands over them. I was shivering and in a ball.

"Baby are you okay? Why have you closed your eyes? And why are you sitting in a corner, rolled up?"

The way I was so relieved to see Paul, I jumped on his arms and wailed. I thought it was the intruder, or his people. I looked around and the was no one. My breathing had escalated. It was a second encounter for the day with a demonic like person or was it the third? Was I losing it?

"What happened, why are you sweating? " He asked again wiping beads of sweat on my forehead. I quickly embraced him and sobbed again. I was frightened, terrified. What just happened? Why did I keep attracting them?

“Please hold me,”