Written by Dishari Bose.
It’s here now, and we can’t do anything about it. I had warned Zee, told her repeatedly to come home with me and leave the thing alone. But she kept plucking at the exposed flesh of its leg, picked at it until translucent, sticky fluids started oozing out, and I was too scared for her to look away. I needed to see to remember, so that if they ask us how we got our hands on it, it¸ I will be able to save her. I had rehearsed- ‘It is not her fault!’, I would say with my eyes bulging like a deer’s- and if they ask me how do I know, was I there with her, that night, was I cradling the back of her neck as she picked it up? I would simply stay quiet.
But that is not where the story begins, not with Brinda telling me what not to do. She will accuse me of superstitious hysteria, but I know things went wrong when we let the others live with us. Brinda was dating A. And I saw it with my own eyes, saw them steal their way into her life, gnaw away at the edges that were soft, and for what? What did they destroy her life for? She was in a trance when she first asked them to move in with us- I know a curse when I see one. I sound stupid, I know, I know, not nearly “educated” enough, but that does not matter now, does it? They walked into our lives through the door we had built together, and that was a breach of trust I could not stomach. I hated A., their rotten tooth, their crooked gait, the way they looked at me when Brinda wasn’t around- a mix of fear and disdain, the quirk of an eyebrow, at once playful and antagonistic- I wanted to leave. I knew that was the beginning of our end. Simply a matter of time.
It looked like an ordinary piece of flesh at first. Meat - that is what we call it when we have to eat it, do we not? I would never admit to this if they were to ask, but the next night I cut off a part of it and tried to cook it in the oven. The kid was asleep right next to it, much like dead meat himself, and for a second, I did think that they looked similar. Same mass of particles, I suppose. The meat still looked fresh then, raw and beckoning, and I needed it glazed on my tongue, between my teeth. But it would not cook- that darned thing- it refused to bloody cook. I put it in my mouth whole then, chewed it raw, and then I don’t remember anything in coherence, mostly flashes- cries for help, the melody of a siren, cackling children, a voice… asking me to run! Run away! They will kill your soul here! I do remember laughing at that. Who would kill me here? Me? I keep them alive, the rotten pair. They would not dare.
I did not want to move into this flat, and it was mostly because I hated those two. But I knew A. since I was fourteen and they were failing in college, and there was only so far I could escape from the skeletons of my adolescence. Besides, A. said they had a spare room, and I did tend to hate my landlord ever so much more. It was the best deal I could take. At the risk of sounding like a misanthrope, I think I hate most people. A. was the happiest when I told them I’d move. Thank goodness, kiddo, they kept repeating over and over and after a point I had to ask, Did you not move in with Brinda because y’all love each other? They said sure, but also told things about Zee that solidified suspicions I was already nursing. She is a witch bro, I swear to God, she is manic. I nodded like I understood, but the revelation made me thoroughly happy. Can’t be worse than you, I had replied solemnly, and they had punched me on my shoulder in a way that they must have thought signified fraternity. I balled my fists then and breathed in and out slowly, counting to five. Memories: the first time we met, and she asked me if I could hold her freezing hand in the dark, how I knew she would haunt me eventually and forever, but lovingly, like a du’a reaching your lips. I like witches, they endear me. And so, when she asked me if I would guard that rotten thing, if I would tend after its disintegrated, clawed out parts, ward off hunting flies and not let anyone touch it, ever, I said Yes in a heartbeat.
Zee was possessed that night in the woods – there was no other way to explain it. She kept telling me that was her child, our child, and I kept asking where, Zee, where? She said she saw it, a three-legged thing, and that we were meant to raise it- together, she insisted, ours- and I kept asking her to stop it! Stop this madness right now! Do you not see it? Our child? We made it together, an angel, we birthed it together. She was sobbing, and I was so scared of her, I wanted to leave her there in the forest and run away, forget how her skin felt as she grasped onto me and pleaded me to save our child. I do not know why I did not call for A., they could have saved us. Instead, I had walked towards where she said our child was, and when she picked up that bloodied thing, I saw it finally. Then she started clawing at it and I started shrieking.
I should have run away the night she had asked.
A. left and has not returned since. It has been a few days. No one spoke of it. I am unsure if they’ll come back, or if I want them to, but I do love them. I am sure.
Soaked in its own pungent body, it shrinks each day.
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