Kalila: Prologue

Kalila



Your eyelids drowsily contort from their sleeping position, revealing blurred vision of the room around you. It’s still dark, and the only visible light is the moon shining through your curtains.  You raise two fists to rub the sleep from your eyes as a faint yawn escapes your lips, trying to recall what had woken you in the first place. A quick glance to the clock on your nightstand confirms that this is indeed an unusual hour to be awake, so it couldn’t have been your alarm. Placing either of your hands on the mattress below you, you push firmly to raise your upper half to a sitting position.

A crash. It sounded like a loud crash… Muffled, almost as if it came from the floor below. You don’t have any pets, nor do you live with anyone, so those two possibilities are already out the window.  You sit idly for a few brief moments before a large knot swells in your chest as the adrenaline starts to pump itself through your veins.

Someone’s in your house…

In an act of sheer panic, you throw your hand over to the nightstand adjacent to your bed and snatch the cell phone that resides atop. You shake your head to further wake yourself as you quickly swipe to unlock your phone, navigate to the call window, and begin dialing.

9… 2… 1…

Fuck. Your frightened quivering causes you to slip and dial the wrong number. Anxiously fiddling with the device in your palm, you rapidly slam a finger on it in an attempt to clear the number, but instead, you accidently push “call”.

“F-fucking son of a bitch!” You whisper under your breath.

With more vigorous finger smashing, you’re able to end the call and bring yourself back to the dial window.

9… 1… 1…

There. You raise your arm to place the cold device against your ear and before the phone has a chance to finish its first “ring”, you quickly hear the voice of a female from across the line.

“911, what is your emergency?” She questions.

You speak as quietly as your lungs will allow, placing the phone’s microphone up against your lips as you cup your free hand around your mouth to conceal the sound.

“Th-there’s someone in my house!” You whisper.

“Are you positive?” She asks with little hesitation.

“W-well I…”

You can’t be for sure, as you’ve not actually seen the perpetrator yet, but there’s really no other explanation. Unless a wild animal snuck its way into your house, but even then you assume it’d be much louder and you’d probably be forced to call emergency services anyway.

“Have you seen the intruder?” She continues.

“N-no, but I can hear them downstairs. I don’t live with anyone else and there was a loud crash, almost like someone broke a window.”

There’s a brief silence before she responds.

“Okay, I’m dispatching officers to your location right now. The current address linked to this number is 755 Belfry court, is this where you are?”

“Y-yes!” You answer frantically.

“Alright, they’re on their way. Are you in a safe hiding place?”

“No, I’m s-still in my bed.”

“Is there any way for you to exit the house from the top floor?”

“N-not from this room, no.”

You’re shaking like mad, the reality of the situation becoming more and more intense as the realization sets in. You hope that with any luck the intruder is nothing more than a thief looking to pawn a rich man’s belongings rather than seek his blood. Most burglars are just druggies anyway, looking for a means to get a quick fix. Odds are if you stay out of their way, they’ll stay out of yours.

“Sir, I’m going to ask that you find a place to keep yourself hidden until authorities arrive. Would you like me to stay on the line?” The voice continues.

“Y-y-yes please.” You shakily reply, your voice descending into a more frail tone.

“Alright, I’ll be right here until help arrives. Just remember to stay calm and be as quiet as possible.”

You nod in understanding, despite her inability to actually see you before pushing the covers from your legs and turning to rest your feet on the cold floor below. As you’re about to stand and begin your search for a safe spot to hide, the gleaming light from the moon bleeding through your window catches the entirety of your attention. It mesmerizes you, your mind going completely numb as you’re void of any and all rational thought, but rather, full of emotion. It felt as if something told you it was going to be okay, that from hereon you would find happiness from this ‘turn of events’. This in itself should scare you, as it sounds similar to something one of those “near death” victims would say they felt before they thought they were going to die. But whatever had invaded your mind had assured you that you would be just fine, and you trusted it.

“Sir?” Comes a small voice from the device still loosely held in your hand.

It doesn’t faze you though, as your blissful daze inhibits you from even the most subtle of movements.

“Sir?” It cries out a little louder, “Are you still there?”

You snap from your zoned state and blink a few times to bring yourself back to reality. With a few confused glances from side to side, you lift the phone back up to your mouth.

“Y-yes, hello?”

“Have you found a safe hiding place yet?”

“Not quite, I uhm…”

“This is very important, I need you to be somewhere safe.” She urges.

You quickly raise yourself from your bed, standing to its side as you contemplate the best place to conceal yourself. With little hesitation, you recall the hidden dresser within your closet and conclude that this indeed would be the safest place to hide without leaving the bedroom. You turn to direct your sight toward the closet door, but rather than seeing your destination, your gaze is met with that of someone else’s.

A thick, black silhouette of a man occupies your vision. His eyes glowing in the dark as they stare back at yours. This… this should be it, right? You should be trembling, completely frozen in fear, shivering like a scared dog at his feet, yet you just… stare back. Not a single muscle in your body tense from what should be horror to an incapacitating extent.

The figure silently begins to raise an arm, carrying with it a large stick with a shape similar to a baseball bat’s.  Before long, he’s arranged himself to stand in a very firm swinging position and all you’re able to do is watch… watch as he prepares to knock the life right out of you. You calmly rest your eyelids shut and mentally embrace yourself for impact.

But rather than being met with a firm bat-to-the-face, a familiar voice emerges from the entity that resides only a few feet away.

“You’re really fucking good at making things difficult…”