Chapter 7

window- below to the ground. Its jagged rough surface cloaked with moss, snapped twigs, accumulated dried leaves and knots of grass. The big tree tops are pushed with leaves, making it harder for the sunlight to come in.

I finger-crossed 'o God, please protect us'.

Perhaps it's an hour before finally the sun comes down and it becomes dark. And I'd closed my windows now. And went downstairs waiting patiently on dad. I sat upon our sofa, watching on the flicker of TV, deviating my thoughts on the things that I'm watching on it. My eyes suddenly wandered away on the pictures placed on the shelves. The one in the middle was our family picture; I was in the middle between my parents, I abruptly realized what's one of those many lacking in this house; that's mom. If only she was still here, I wouldn't be always left alone, I miss everything about her; every morning as I wake up and she'd already prepared breakfast, same with lunch and dinner, how she would tuck me into my bed and sing me a lullaby to fall asleep. I remembered how I used to hug her every time I fell asleep, safe in her warm embrace and now quickly turn into hugging only my soft pillow.

I miss her so much as I miss dad. Everything changed since she passed away. Then I began to be emotional as a lone drop of tear fell, that I quickly swept away. But I know that won't happen again, I already gave up on the notion- I can go back to that time and feel the care and love again.

I hate to admit it and denied it; that they neglected and left me alone. 'But that's ok' I always tell myself, 'that's ok'.

It's finally dark outside as I go to the window glass to peek from it. Only see the Smith's residence and beyond were tall trees with dark outlines and the shadows of gasses between trees— impenetrable. Their balcony was litten up by a bulb, and past whirling, back and Fro, from it, where little insects, funneling like a little tornado and as I glance on ours, it was turned off so I grope for the switch just near beside the window, without looking on it, still hypnotized from the rounding pattern of those insects attracted to the lights. As soon as I opened ours- the what I supposed to be tiny insects had been crawling on our balcony's walls, were starting to whirled past on it, mimicking what those from the Smith's residence.

I looked at it and studied their pattern, then I questioned, what was it that attracted them, why they're so attracted?

I waited for a few moments, still looking outside above the lights and its visitors, waiting for dad. But I easily got bored and went back to the living room and sat again on the sofa. Searched for the T.V remote stuck on its narrow edges and changed the channel one by one.

Then suddenly from above, I saw it again. Though it was a bit scary, as it looks larger than what I'd seen in the house of Mr. And Mrs. Smith; the moth. It clung in the fluorescent light tube, its back on me. It was still the same, with its skull like figure on its part of its head.

Then it detached itself and hovered past above it, swiftly away then back again to cling on it, in which I recoiled in threat it would go to me, but it didn't. This time I'll admit that I hate insects, especially the large ones with ugly appearances, just at the sight of them, made me feel something crawling in my skin.

So I grabbed tight the rounded pillow sofa, and readied myself, just in case it goes closer to me, then I'm going to hit it with this.

I was watching it narrowly, and all I can hear was the howl of the outside wind, and the rustle of tree branches; inside- only the him of cold refrigerator and the chatterbox people inside our bulk TV, when suddenly it flee, away again, so quick I didn't discern where it goes to. I searched the whole place; the ceiling, from the walls, on the floor, still in my rigid position with a sentry's eyes. Then it whizzes past my head, hovering to and fro, on the light.

Then it finally happened, it dive- bomb on me, but before it finally landed on me I'd hit already using the pillow I was holding, and i feel, it deflected the pillow and crashed the nearest wall, badly battered its body from the hit that as it goes down to splat the floor, it'd left a streak of its own vicious green blood on the wall.

When I looked over the floor, I saw it lying there with its back on the floor, then moved, vibrating, swirling around on the floor.

One knocked down, I thought, I can be a baseball player, but I know that's harder than this. A far-fetch story. Then I heard knocks from the door. I went to open it, to see Dad.

"You're opening the door, without actually checking outside through the window" dad annoyingly said

"What if the moment you opened this, a killer or maybe a thief is waiting"

I didn't answer him. Instinctively, I know it could be him. But he was right. We need to be more vigilant.

"Tst.. Tst… tst" his disapproval.

"You should always do that especially in these hours. When you are all alone and you're not with an adult. We don't know the uncertainty" he said.

And as he went inside, he immediately saw the stains of moths greenish blood, on the wall. Then as I approach closer to see, then down below, that's where he sees it, hunkered down to watch as the moth, vibrating swirling around with its inept tattered wings.

He smirked. I was about to get the sweeping broom hooked nailed at the back of the door, when he said:

"This is your mom, why did you kill her?"

I was struck with confusion. I looked around and saw him. He was still watching it, then I came closer.

"No, just kidding" He said jokingly.

He then, rose up then posed as if to kill it as he hovered his boot above the moth, then stamped it and you could hear the squirts of its flesh as he squirmed crashing it, and when he's done and removed away the boot- it was just now a merely a dirt of something green, unrecognizable to its predecessor.

"Clean it up" he ordered, then he went to the kitchen.

I can still clearly see that one of its wings is stuck to his boot's rim sole.

"Is it true?" I asked suddenly

"Is it true what?"

"That… this could be mom?"

"Of course not… " he said as he washes his hand on the water faucet.

But I knew the question was foolish. I had to chuckle a bit. Although I can now recall where this reference comes from: the mythology, I thought. The legends. We'd discussed it one time in school, but the person who'd mentioned it, I cannot remember. As far as I know, these moths containing the departed souls of our beloved ones could be a family member or a special one. But the reason in the first place why, though, something I don't know.

"That was according to our ancestors, but of course that's not real. I don't know why they'd said that, maybe they were influenced by their deep religious belief. But for me It's just a plain insect, a normal thing and nothing so special."

I nodded to him to agree, he was totally right. It is impossible to happen that this month contains your beloved one. So with that, I continue to sweep it under the rug.

After I cleaned it all up, things retained their normal state, the wall was clean green, the tiles were milky white; as clean as they were before. Only now as I looked up again at the luminous light above, another kind of insect preoccupied, there must be 2 to 3 of them. Ony now, they're a bit tinier and slimmer than the previous one; these are the specific insects coming from the outside; from our balcony.

Silly, I thought, they're plaguing the light now in exchange for the loss of their mother. Although I know that was just only my imagination, creating some stories. I didn't even know what these winged insects are called.

"Don't look at it for too long," dad advised.

"But why?" I asked confusedly

"It will go increase if you stare to them for too long, there's no scientific explanation I can give you, but it's tested — the more you watch- the more they grow and multiply, but the less you care— the more they'll vanished"

"Woah that's cool" and with one last looked I still wrinkled my forehead, still bewildered.

After that I went to sit at the dining table.

" So how's your injury? the bruise?"

Though throughout the day, I was so distracted with all the bizarre things that happened that I didn't notice the great improvement of the bruise. It was not hurting anymore, and when I tried to reach for the spoon i didnt feel anything locking on my bones, it went back to its normal state.

"I think I'm already better than yesterday. It's not inflicting pain to me anymore, I guessed, I am now able to go to school"

"Then good, that's cool news." He said,

"And it's up to you. If you feel better now, then I wouldn't stop you. You are free to go. But if you don't feel really okay, then stay for a while. Remember, don't force yourself if you don't really feel like okay, it will just worsened the situation"

"Ok…" I answered timidly.

And with that we went on to continue our dining, with the TV let talking and all other things we can hear are the cracking of utensils on the plate, the bump of it from the glass, the sip, and the swallowtail of food.

Dad did the dishes, and I went back to my room upstairs. If I'm going to school tomorrow and If I'm already concrete with my decision, then I need to go to bed early to bed, have a superfluous amount of sleep and replenish my strength— dad advised me to do so.

As soon as I entered and turned on the lights, I immediately scanned the whole place if there's anything suspiciously changed from their initial positions, I went to look first to the stacks of pile of my old grade school books from the left, to the small figures on the desk, even underneath the bed, and went to the cabinet to check if there's any. This might look foolish, but preventive measurement is better than letting your guard down at all; finding them first is better than them, finding you. At least I'm completely wary of my surroundings and I wouldn't be surprised if there's any. Still all the previous things that happened, that could be range from normal to bit paranormal, lingering still in my mind, provoking some funny questions and some scary too, specifically, the sighting of the unusual man in the Smith's house, with some odd features in his body— there must be something so strange about him as his looks can't be compare to anyone, devious from a normal human. Especially the thorns in his head, is that only my imagination? What about the 'nail' thing- I know I'm not the only one who heard it all. And I was so sure it was coming from it directly, as I saw him going upstairs with a hammer. Then next was the moths, this could be simply described and accepted as just as what dad said- part of our mythology, of the archaic, superficially beliefs that lacks concrete evidence and religion-based. But what about the thorns crowned man, could they explain that.

Horror is not my cup of tea, although I'm getting the idea— where all of them must be hiding — sometimes in the plain sight, sometimes hidden beneath the darkness.

After checking on everything, until I must feel comfortable in my own room, I settled down on my fluffy comfy bed.

I sat upon my buttocks, looking beyond the crystalline glass window. Fluctuating with my thoughts: should I now turn the light off or not.

To be frantically honest I am as comfortable sleeping with the lights off, but it seems like it's going to be a little harder for me to find the sweet spot.

But then, I ask myself again about these matters, why though, it looks like I'm the only one who's getting paranoid. Then I suddenly remembered the collective anguish faces from the view of Mr. And Mrs. Celestios son. But within the circle parameter, just around the neighborhood, it seems like people are not anxious at all- given the fact that there this disfigured body was found hanging on a tree— and the possible suspect could be someone or something lurking in the deep dark forest. And realizing, the plainwoods residences are circled around by these tall trees forest, make it so much harder to stop where it will be coming from, or maybe — from the thought of the wrecked body— which is the next victim? Who is its next target?

I shuddered a little from the question. A dreadful thought I must say, the possibility it was me, or ultimately anyone who's living just around the area. One by one, little by little. Until there is nothing left.

But I shook my head to brush it all away. I'm still opting out for one last option— I have my father— and I'm in great confidence that I will be safe. My grandmother will be safe too, soon, after she arrives at our home. And daddy will protect us and will not let anything or anyone or whatever it is causing havoc in the plainwoods residences, to harm us. They will definitely find a solution. Even though it was still not confirmed, I knew dad will do something to

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