Firmament - Le Cercle Littéraire - Thế Hữu Văn Đà n - The Literary ...

The Firmament Volume 3, No. 1, April 2010 48
o o o
The thriller on the television was reaching fever pitch with the pursuer coming ever closer to the girl.
Her fear leapt from the screen like some tangible evil force pervading the room, transferring itself to
Mrs. Mai, who suddenly became acutely conscious of the fact that she was alone in the house.
A chill spread throughout her veins and she stopped munching sweets to look about her.
Everything was just the same.
She looked up at her reflection in the elaborate gilt-edged mirror her mother had given her for a
wedding present. Then to the heavy antique fire tongs her father had so treasured. Her eyes swept past
all the familiar objects in the room. Nothing had changed, yet the cosiness previously felt had suddenly
vanished, leaving her decidedly uneasy.
This lounge room was particularly dear to her with its memories of the past: the blue colour
painting on silk she and her mother had chosen together; her father’s carved camphor wood pipe stand
– a relic and reminder of his army days.
Mai looked at her wristwatch. Ten o’clock! She was sure that her husband had not meant to be
this late.
Just as well mother isn’t here to know that her good to nothing son-in-law has dared to leave her
loving daughter by herself like that! Mai thought.
Down the small passage behind her chair a door began to bang. Mai grimaced in annoyance,
knowing it was the spare room door which often came undone if it wasn’t secured properly by means
of an extra tug.
She heaved her plump body out of the chair and hurried down the dark passage, grasping the
handle with both hands she pulled on it hard and heard the snib slip firmly into place.
The little back room had been extended for her father in his last ailing years and had never seemed
quite a part of the house. It had always given her the creeps at night. Sometimes the door banged during
the night when a strong whiff of wind sprang up, but she refused to go and close it herself, instead she
would wake Mỹ up to do it.
Snuggled deep in the blankets she derived a certain pleasure out of him sighing and shivering as
he fumbled for his jumper. Mai reasoned that if he has been a handyman like her father had been it
would have been fixed by now. But Mỹ was hopeless…
During a commercial she switched the television off thinking she could hear footsteps, but it
was only the dry leaves from the big fig tree outside the window being disturbed by the breeze. A slight
frown creased her forehead. At least she hoped that was what all it was.
o o o
Mai had been especially nervous lately since the papers had reported a prowler in the district, and even
when sitting beside her husband she would tense with fright when the leaves moved outside and he
would chide her about her silly imagination.
Mai crossed the thick carpet to look out the window, and could just make out the white wrought
iron garden chairs under the big tree where she and her husband often sat in its shade on summer
evenings.
Out there now it all seemed dark and unfriendly. Familiar silhouettes stood out in weird
frightening shapes. Hedges and shrubs blended to become a hiding place--for what? Mai shivered as
she was beginning to feel like the girl in the mystery story--though paradoxically – her fear stemmed
from being inside alone.