Red Veil

by Ana Abdullah - December 12, 2018

— Summary: Her usual quiet night was disrupted. —

I saw it, officer. Really, right in front of me.

They broke into my shack. Rushed in without even so much as a salam. Of course, I hid up here by this broken zinc ceiling. I have a very weak constitution. I don’t like confrontations, you see. Not seeing me, they laughed at their conquest of my humble home, grabbing each other in places I shouldn’t tell you.

This couldn’t be love, I thought. Not when it happened so fast, officer. One minute she was desperate for him, and the next, she was scratching him, desperate to breathe, glaring at me as she turned red then purple then dead. But what could I do to help? I am small, sir.

His face, you ask? His face.

You would’ve have thought with such a crime of hate, you would see his eyes bulging out with rage, cheeks crimson with vile anger and veins popping out his neck as he punched her chest many, many times. A strong hate to pummel her until she was beyond recognition. No, sir, he was at peace.

And where is he now? He’s right there standing beside you, sir. Pretending to be the distraught husband, even playing surprise when he returned with you to this heinous scene. He said she had an affair? Possible. But surely his punishment was too much.

Oh, a pity you won’t listen, sir. A pity no one sees me.

I smell his lies, I smell her blood on him. I must go. This human stench is nauseating for a weak creature like me.

* * *

“What was that?” asked the distraught husband.

He looked up as a cool breeze blew into the broken ceiling. A red veil of cobweb drifted down, landing delicately onto his face. He brushed it off quickly in disgust. But the threads had stained his cheeks.

“Ugh, spiders.”

“Forget that. Your upper arms. How did you get those scratches, Mr Sibu?” asked the constable, blocking the only exit from his view.
Ana Says
Sometimes a witness isn't necessarily a human being. One of my favourites to write. What do you think it is?

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