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Silhouette and Creepiness

Fahad was only ten years old when his parents got divorced. Both of them immediately fled from their suffocating bond-mansion, leaving Fahad behind to be care taken by two guards, a cook, and a housekeeper. It was a devastating experience, wondering what he had done wrong...why his family left him. His wounds had grown even more profound as both of his parents found someone else to spend the rest of their lives with, and Fahad was left alone.

 Sometimes parents forget that in their own fights, it's the children that suffer...the children who have to pay the dire consequences. It was painful spending each day with people who were only there because they were being paid. Parents shouldn't do that. Children should be their top priority. The feeling of being an immense burden was heavy. Albeit, both of Fahad's parents would continuously fill up his bank account, meet him for special occasions and send him expensive gifts, but money was never the answer. Fahad didn't need that; he didn't need guilt-ridden gifts. He just wanted his parents back. Sometimes, that thought made him feel childish. He was a 28-year-old man, well-educated with a business degree earned from Government College, Pakistan, and keen in studying criminology, but this was what he wanted...he wanted a family...affection, someone to actually care for him, yet he had been left behind.

It was excruciating.

His mother 'Asmara' had got married to a business tycoon in Dubai, while his father 'Yusuf' had chosen a widow in Palestine. His father's second wife was actually a gem. Fahad had met her once, and she told him about the pain of the Palestinian people and how they were being persecuted on a daily basis. It was heart-crushing.

During the time, Fahad's mother and father used to be together, Asmara would often fight with her husband, accusing him of being so busy for family. Yet, her theory had proven wrong because his dad was now there for his other family, his other son. It hurt Fahad how his father had chosen to stay for his half-brother, but not him. 

Now hating the silence echoing of his house, he had decided to follow his daily routine of roaming around at night. The silence that lingered in his house at night suffocated him. 

Living in Rawalpindi: a place situated among the mountains near the infamous tourist spot 'Murree', Fahad got to roam around in the dark corners of both isolated and crowded places. Fond of travelling, he had actually been all over the country. He had been to Lahore, Karachi, and Peshawar...but the places which he would never go were Egypt and Dubai. His parents resided there with their families. He wasn't brave enough to see them all happy without him. It pained to be just abandoned. To the world, Fahad may seem like a cold, reserved being who rarely talked and was too serious...but deep down, he was just lonely and shattered.

Choosing to use his silver and black heavy bike for the night stroll, Fahad walked out of the hollow echoes of his mansion and asked one of the guards to bring him his bike. One of the reasons, he would, sometimes, ask his guards to perform tasks for him was that he wanted to talk to someone...anyone.

The boredom of the day, the silence of the night, would just make him suffer from suffocation and wordless torture. He felt like screaming out loud-just dragging someone and plain talking. He had never managed to make many friends in life, never managed to just go with the flow and become a socially acceptable person. Albeit his father had offered the named many families who wanted their daughters to marry him, he just didn't want to get entrapped in his father's circle He was not stable enough. Tired and in immense pain, he just wanted someone to understand him.

Those families didn't offer him what he was looking for. They didn't know the feeling of loneliness...they didn't know that he suffered from the feeling of pain. Each one of his father's friends and colleagues was a rich tycoon, dealing with every relationship like a business deal, but Fahad wasn't a business deal; he didn't want to be treated as one. Thus, with no one considerate enough to even focus on the pain and silence echoing around him, he watched as his bike finally arrived and sat down on it.

Upon starting it, the roar of the heavy bike made him feel energized. He felt empowered, strong...heard. Now speeding down the streets of Rawalpindi, he allowed the noise of the crowd to fill up his wound and focus on his presence, which is all he ever wanted.

He wanted to be heard and, perhaps, taken care in the simplest sense.

***

Zaid and I had woken up early to offer our prayers and already explored the whole house. It was early morning, and we had discovered that hallway doors led up to two rooms and a huge staircase. Papa had helped Zaid and I explore the upstairs, which didn't have much; a single hall with two bedroom doors opposite from one another. I had taken one of those rooms, while Zaid had taken the other.

With Mama now making breakfast downstairs, I was busy exploring my new room. There wasn't much in there; a small window giving the view of the lush green forest, a small bed and a side table which was placed right next to the bed, under the small window, and had a radio set placed on it. There was also another door near the entrance of this room which led to the washroom. I was already loving this new room.

My summer vacations were surely going to be fantastic.

While putting my suitcase on the bed and opening it, I frowned as a screechy, rusty voice now echoed from somewhere.

What on earth!

Looking around, I noticed the sound was coming from the radio. It seemed to be going louder. Curiously walking around the bed and nearing the side table, my heart pounded as my ears started to pick up words now emitting from the radio.

'There lived a crooked man in a crooked house'

'He had a crooked son, a crooked spouse-

Who couldn't love their child.'

Weird. I don't know this riddle seemed so eerie. Picking up the radio, I tried switching it off. I wasn't too afraid by the radio suddenly starting on its own. We had a small recorder in our house which would randomly start playing, too; old rusty things start to malfunction.

Pressing the off button on the radio, I frowned, as it turned out to be a futile attempt, and felt like hitting this radio against the side table The noise was getting loud.

'THERE LIVED A CROOKED MAN IN A CROOKED HOUSE,'

'HE HAD A CROOKED CHILD, A CROOKED SPOUSE-

WHO COULDN'T LOVE THEIR CHILD.'

STOP!

I couldn't tolerate the noise anymore. I was just about to hit the radio against the side table, not strong enough to damage it when Zaid walked up into my room.

"Mehreen," Immediately the radio turned mute, causing me to turn confused and hastily place in back on the side table. What on earth!

"Why were you holding the radio like that?" he tilted his head, making me frown.

"It was making a weird noise," I supplied, eyeing the radio with bafflement. 

How did it stop?

"Hmm...want me to check it?"  Ugh, Zaid's techno-interest had started showing up. I didn't want his to open the host's gadgets. I realized I shouldn't be damaging this radio. We were guests and were meant to be responsible. 

Smiling, I shook my head at my younger brother.

"No, that's alright. You needed something?" I changed the topic. He nodded.

"Yeah, Mama and Papa are waiting for us in the front porch. Mama has laid out the table there and set breakfast for us, so hurry." And with that, he rushed out of my room.

Shaking my head, I followed behind, while not without offering that eerie radio one last glimpse, and walked with a skip. I was going to ask my parents if the radio could be placed somewhere else, for the time being. I didn't want that creepiness to stay for long.

Skipping down the stairs, I headed directly towards the porch and stopped for a second. I could see the back of Papa's head from the small window that opened up to the front porch. Anxiously heading towards the door, I halted as I heard mama call out to me from the kitchen.

"Mehreen!"

"Yes, Mama?" I walked into the kitchen, smiling.

However, my smile dropped as I saw no one there. What?

"Mehreen," I jumped, as I was now called from behind, and anxiously turned around. It was Zaid standing near the threshold of the kitchen's door, eyeing me with curiosity.

"What are you doing here? We are all waiting for you in the porch." He frowned, making me scowl.

"Don't do that!" I scolded, catching my breath. 

"Do what? You got scared, didn't you?" He smirked, leaning against the threshold of the kitchen door. I scoffed.

"Funny," He only chuckled and turned around.

"Come on, we are waiting for you." He gestured and started running towards the door. His absence reminded me of exactly what had happened. I was sure that I had heard mama call me from the kitchen, but I guess that the radio incident must have got me overly paranoid.

Deciding to just let go, I headed towards the porch. Mama and Papa were already on their cup of tea when I got there. At my sight, both of them smiled.

"Mehreen, what took you so long?"

"She was in the kitchen," Zaid answered, munching on a piece of toast.

The wild grass around the porch seemed so lush at the moment.

"Yeah, I thought you called me," I added, making Mama shake her head.

"No, I didn't. Now eat your breakfast. It is getting cold."

"Okay," I sat down beside her and began munching on a piece of buttered bread. I wanted to eat something light. The sun had just rose, and it felt refreshing to grab a cup of tea and slowly drink it. The winter air seemed so pleasant and soothing. I was really enjoying as the steam of tea warmed my hands and face. It felt so relaxing.

While drinking tea, I noticed something move among the wild, overgrown grass.

What on earth!

Before I could make others notice the movement, a small baby goat emerged from within the tall grass. It was pure white and so cute. It reminded me of Bakra Eid; one of my favourite occasions. 

Awe...How did this beauty get in here?

"Zaid," I called out. "Look!"

"Ugh!" he immediately started backing away in fright, getting up from his stool. Nearly falling, he rushed towards papa, who picked him up. Both of my parents were looking at the goat with interest; it couldn't even walk properly. Awe!

Rolling my eyes playfully at my brother's antics, I got up and started heading towards the goat. Assuring the creature that I meant no harm, I carefully picked it up and started patting its tender fur. The goat purred with affection. I loved goats so much.

Turning around to look at Zaid, I started showing off my animal-loving skills.

"Look, Zaid. it's no big deal," I bragged. He remained quietly seated next to Papa, observing me with concern evident in his eyes. He was feeling worried for me. Sweet boy!

"Should I bring it near?" He profusely shook his head.

"Let go of it," Mama now called out to me. "The baby goat looks scared." She had a point.

Nodding, I carefully placed the goat back on its cute little feet. Upon being set on the ground, it immediately began skidding away from me, causing me to chase after it.

 I just wasn't ready to let go of it, completely. 

Trying to be careful of the wild grass, I followed the goat around the house, until I reached the backyard garden and found it gone; the goat had probably wandered off into the forests.

Looking around, I found myself standing directly below my room's window. I decided to back away and see if I could look inside my room's window. And just as I managed to distance myself from the house and peer inside my room, I noticed a black silhouette standing inside my room, hovering over the radio.

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