by Ayse Hafiza
“That’s good. How did you buy this house?” asked Waleed after taking a sip of tea.
“It was put on the market as an elderly couple had lived here but the husband passed away and the house was too much for the woman on her own, so they sold up.”
“Yes, and where did the husband pass away?” asked Waleed.
Saima could tell his questions were leading somewhere. Uncle Waleed stood up and pushed the door closed, but it swung open a little and that was enough to allow Saima to still hear, she moved downstairs and stood in the lower hallway.
“He died in the house,” said Rashid.
Kawser looked at him, she had never questioned her husband, and now with Waleed’s questions, she wondered if she should have.
“I hope you pray in the house?” asked Waleed.
“Of course, of course,” said Rashid.
Although that wasn’t strictly true.
“Although why do you ask?” started Rashid with his own questions.
“It’s just an energy, the house seems to have,” said Waleed quietly.
“What kind of energy?” asked Kawser sitting forward.
“I’m not sure, but I think you need to make sure you remember God often, you know, for protection. It’s just something negative, something dark. . .” said Waleed.
“Come on Waleed don’t say that,” protested Rashid.
“Maybe I am imagining it, but do you feel safe?” asked Waleed.
Kawser answered first, “Yes, always. This is our home.”
Rashid was silent, he wasn’t in the habit of lying to his brother. Saima crept closer to the slightly opened door, she wanted to hear what he had to say.
“I. . .I. . .I wasn’t sure. . .if maybe I saw something in the garage yesterday,” started Rashid with his confession.
Both Waleed and Kawser moved a little closer.
“What did you see?” asked Kawser.
This was the point at which none of them could deny it, they were living side by side with a presence they didn’t understand.
“I don’t know, it was probably nothing,” said Rashid, knowing that if he spoke out loud, he wouldn’t be able to take the words back, and the happy home that they lived in wouldn’t be the same again.
“It was a feeling more than anything,” he said.
“Tell us,” Kawser coaxed him urgently.
“I was looking for a screwdriver when the door closed in the garage.” He took a moment to clear his throat and swallow, trying to wet his mouth. He wasn’t ready to relive the experience by telling them, but his brother was the wisest man that he knew. He needed to share. “Then I heard the sound of ragged breathing. It sounded like something, or someone was having difficulty breathing, and I saw a shadow move behind me, so I knew I wasn’t in the garage by myself.”
“So that’s why you don’t want the kids to go into the garage alone,” said Kawser realizing that she now understood her husband’s nervousness.
“So, do you think he died in the garage?” asked Waleed, even though that thought wasn’t in line with what he was feeling.
“Maybe. . .the cord. . .” said Kawser, drawing an image in her mind that she immediately wished she hadn’t mentioned.
They sat in silence. Saima tried her hold herself back, she wanted to run into the room and share what she had seen, the old lady at the bottom of her bed. The lady that was waiting to speak to her.
Saima had so much she wanted to share, but she clung to the wall.
“Rashid you need to put your family first,” warned Waleed.
“I am Waleed, that’s why I bought us this house.”
“Maybe you need to move,” suggested Waleed. “Before anyone gets hurt.”
“Are you serious Waleed, do you think that we will get hurt?” asked Kawser.
“No, no, no, he doesn’t mean it like that,” said Rashid, staring at Waleed, wondering why he would speak like that in front of his wife.
“It’s nothing that we can’t handle,” said Rashid. We will pray a bit more, and whatever it is will move on.
Saima believed her father. Yes, he was right. If they prayed a little more than it would move on, it had the capability to move on, and that gave her hope. She knew the conversation was over, as the adults sat in silence, so she backed along the hall. Until she backed into the old woman, who was in solid form.
Saima stood in shock as she looked up and saw the old ladies face clearly and moving closer to hers, blinking her eyes she tried to make her disappear into a black wisp as she usually did. Saima opened her mouth to scream, and that was the opening the old woman needed to enter the little girl’s body. Saima fell to the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Upon hearing the clatter of the little body hitting the ground her parents and uncle ran out into the hall. As her sight faded and the last thing she could see was the enlarged faces of Uncle Waleed, her dad and mom.
14
Two Souls
They knew she was most comfortable in their bed. Saima already had a temperature when they found her in the hallway, and for the life of them, they didn’t understand what she had been doing out of bed. Most of all they hoped she hadn’t heard their conversation, they knew Saima was a child with an active imagination. The one who felt scared the most.
As much as they cared for their daughter, they couldn’t tell that she was suffering from more than a sickness they would never be able to comprehend. She lay on their bed sweating, almost unable to open her eyes or hear their voices.
They didn’t know that Saima was very far away.
Uncle Waleed prayed over her and asked for blessings for her. He stayed with her the next day when her mom took the other children to school.
After a day of seeing that she wasn’t shaking it, they wanted to take her to the hospital or the doctor. That was their plan, but she wouldn’t move from the bed, so they needed to call the doctor to the home instead. Beyond diagnosing her as someone with a fever, he said nothing but left a prescription for medicine.
Kawser didn’t want to give her any pills on an empty stomach but waking her to eat was near impossible.
Her limbs were floppy, and all she wanted to do was sleep and all the while her Uncle Waleed carried on his vigil. The other children came into the room when they finished school to see her. She lay there with her eyes closed breathing shallow breaths rapidly.
“What happened Saima?” asked Idris when he was alone with her.
She opened her eyes and sneered at him.
For that split-second Idris knew, he moved away from her.
He found their father and spoke quietly. “She isn’t herself,” he confessed.
“I know Idris, don’t worry, she’ll get better soon,” then Dad patted his young son on the head.
“No, she won’t, we need to do something,” said Idris.
Everyone fell silent. What did he mean? How could he know she wasn’t going to get any better?
Uncle Waleed didn’t write off what the boy had seen.
“What is it Idris, what do you think is happening?” asked their uncle, he was trying to keep a hint of lightheartedness in his voice.
“She’s different, she looked at me like she doesn’t know who I am.” Idris swallowed thickly, his eyes were wide as he tried to explain. “It scared me.”
Kawser pulled her son close and gave him a hug. The fraught adults looked at each other, unsure how what they could or should do. The boy’s words had hit them hard, they were doing their best to pretend that they weren’t scared too.
Uncle Waleed looked away from the boy and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. His mind’s eye drifting to the room where his niece lay. Releasing a deep breath, he pushed up from his chair and took slow, heavy steps to where she rested. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed he began to pray over Saima. As he spoke the little girl’s eyes slowly blinked open.
“You know Saima, sometimes people will ask you things that they have no right too,” he spoke softly.
He knew
his brother was standing behind the door, listening to him speaking to his daughter.
“Some people want things which they have no right to.”
Saima hissed at her uncle, and with that single act, Waleed knew he was on the right track.
“You are a sensitive child with a strong life force and strong love for your family. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that, and in that way, you can return to your family. Sometimes negative things get attracted to strong people like you, but you must remember that your body is only for your soul and there is no place within it for anyone else. If you must you can make a bargain with them, promise something, but it’s up to you to get rid of them.”
Uncle Waleed stood up and walked toward the window, the little girl’s expression changed, covering her face, so only her eyes showed she was watching him from beneath the covers.
“Saima, please Saima come back to us,” said Dad coming into the room, he had tears running along his cheeks. “We love you, we want you with us. You are a good girl, a strong girl, whatever it is please just fight it Saima.” He cried at the bottom of the bed.
Saima sat up in bed, but it was as if her head wanted to lay back on the pillow while her rib cage raised her body forward, her eyes rolled upwards so all they could see were the whites only. Saima sat on the bed like that as both the men’s eyes opened wider in fear. The waited in anticipation, who or what would win.
Then in a second, she was back.
“Sorry if I upset you, Daddy,” said Saima. “I’m just a little bit sick Uncle Waleed, I don’t really understand what you are saying.”
Her face paled in color and she began to retch until she threw up a dense black liquid which they caught in a bin. It was quickly flushed down the toilet. They knew from the color of the vomit that what had just happened wasn’t their imagination. After throwing up, her color returned and the little girl they loved was back, albeit a little shaken.
When Saima left her parent's bed, they all noted how she stopped in the upper hallway just shy of the attic door and glanced up at it.
“What’s up there?” asked Waleed when the little girl had gone to sleep. Kawser was staying with her until they could be sure that she was definitely better.
“It’s an old mirror.”
“Did you buy it?”
“No, the last owner left it here, I called the estate agent, and they never came to get it.”
“Okay, are there any other things here that the last owner left?” asked Waleed.
“Just the things in the garage.”
“Let’s clean them up tomorrow and take them to the estate agent’s office,” suggested Waleed.
“Do you think that has something to do with this?”
Waleed leaned over to his brother Rashid.
“Look, there is something negative in this house, and you can see what it did. Get rid of anything you didn’t buy with money that you didn’t earn.”
As the mirror and canvas were being carried out of the house, Saima seemed to be able to breath better, and Kawser and the rest of the family were starting to believe that the worst was over. Her child had been sick for over three days, and her mother’s intuition knew that there was a connection between Saima and the old mirror that had been left in the attic. They had ignored it for too long. Of course, the other children had been told that Saima just had a tummy bug. Kawser wanted the opportunity to speak with her daughter in more detail.
The children returned to normal, running around with the neighborhood kids, no one asked about Saima’s illness, and soon it was forgotten. Uncle Waleed prepared to leave, and before he did, he whispered into her ear. She smiled at him and threw her arms around his neck. He had been able to see the problem and Saima had managed to fight back. Without the mirror in the house, the air seemed to be cleaner and the corners of the house no longer seemed as dark as they had. The children laughed more, and they seemed happier than they had ever been.
Kawser wanted to know more, she wanted to know if they were safe in their own house. She needed to know what her daughter had gone through. She didn’t understand, even though she had felt the mood in the house change.
So Kawser waited for her opportunity when Rashid wasn’t around, she was sitting plaiting Saima’s thick long hair when she dared broach the subject.
“Do you want just one plait or two?” asked Kawser.
“Just one, please.”
“Darling what happened? Can you tell me? It’ll be our secret, and you don’t need to tell anyone else.”
“Uff Mom, I don’t want to have any more secrets with anyone anymore,” protested Saima.
“Darling how many secrets do you have?”
“I have lots of secrets,” said Saima innocently but then as if in a trance she turned to face her mom. “Besides, Lizzy doesn’t want me to say anything to anyone.”
Kawser felt her hands tremble as she looked at her daughter. For a brief instant she thought she had seen darkness in her daughter’s eyes.
“Who’s Lizzy? A friend from school?”
“Lizzy is my friend.”
“I know that but who is Lizzy? Where did you meet her?”
“Can I go now, Mommy?”
“Why, I haven’t finished your hair.”
“Lizzy doesn’t like me speaking with you.”
“What?” Kawser was stunned, she let the hair fall down her daughters back.
“How do you know that?”
“Because she just told me.”
“Just told you, as in just told you right now?”
“Yes,” said Saima as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Kawser wanted to say something, she couldn’t let it rest there. “But there’s only you and me here Saima. I don’t see Lizzy, where is she?”
“Lizzy is here, but she doesn’t want me to speak about her.”
Kawser felt a chill run along her spine, she wanted to discount any possibility. “Well Lizzy must be one of your dolls, why don’t you bring her to show me.”
“Lizzy isn’t ready to show herself to you. . .yet,” said Saima.
Kawser sat down on the sofa to stop herself from falling down, she was shaking.
When Rashid came home, Kawser told him about the conversation.
“We should leave this house,” insisted Kawser.
“It’s fine, things are fine. We got rid of all their things and I’m going to pray a lot more regularly.”
Kawser had tears in her eyes.
“My love what if it’s in hiding. It’s got a name, her name is Lizzy, and Saima says that Lizzy doesn’t like Saima to speak with me about her. Rashid that’s not normal, something is trying to hurt our daughter, something we can’t see, something that is in this house.”
“Okay, okay, we can put the house on the market if you feel that strongly about it.”
“Rashid, can you hear yourself. If I feel strongly, we’re talking about the health of your children.”
“Okay, look I can make a few phone calls, but please calm down.”
“How can I be calm something inside our own house is bothering our children Rashid? It’s hard to be calm,” said Kawser.
Rashid knew this was a battle that he would struggle to win. He had just started to feel that the house was going to be somewhere they could carry on living.
The next morning Rashid received a phone call from Mr. Sullivan, the estate agent.
“Mr. Sullivan you must be psychic,” said Rashid when he answered the phone.
“Why do you say that?”
“My wife and I were thinking about moving on from here,” said Rashid.
“Ah, really? Well, it’s a tough market at the moment, but if you want to put it on the market, then we can discuss it. . .but I had actually called about the items you left at the office yesterday.”
“Ah yes.”
“Well none of them are really worth anything, but the mirror likely is. It’s a charming piece.”
“Yes, quite,” said Rashi
d who lied, there was nothing charming about it at all.
“Well anyway, the care home that Mrs. Elizabeth Blades was living in don’t want it, but they have a forwarding address for her son in the Scottish Isles.”
“And?”
“And if we post it there it will cost around twenty pounds, so I’d like to ask if you are ready to pick up the cost?”
Rashid thought about it, that was a lot of money, but if the mirror went that far away, then it was worth it.
“Okay Mr. Sullivan, please post it. Now when can you come here and talk about putting the house back on the market?”
“I can come on Saturday.”
“That’s fine with me. And. . .do you happen to know what happened to the previous owners?” asked Rashid. He didn’t want to know the answer to that question. He knew he didn’t want to know, but he needed something positive to tell his wife.
“Well as I mentioned at the time, the husband had passed away and the wife chose to put it on the market.”
“Okay, but where did he pass away?” asked Rashid in a quiet voice. He didn’t want to know the answer, but he needed to know.
Mr. Sullivan paused, this was not a conversation that he wanted to have.
“I believe it was in the garage,” he finally confessed.
Rashid held his breath, so that was the entity that was with him in the garage, he swallowed deeply as his mouth became dry. He didn’t want to know anymore, but he needed more information. “How?”
“I don’t have the details,” said Mr. Sullivan.
“How?” urged Rashid again, he could tell from his breezy tone, that Mr. Sullivan was lying.
“I believe he committed suicide,” he finally shared.
“And you didn’t tell me this before?”
“Well it didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t be doing your own research,” said Mr. Sullivan with a hiss.
“Of course. It’s just that it makes sense now,” said Rashid, connecting the dots in his mind.
“What makes sense?”
‘That my family is being haunted,’ Rashid thought in his head.
“That the price was so competitive,”
