Nights Are Different | Tebuireng Online

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I think the incident of Tuyul trying to take my doll was the highest limit of madness that I had to accept. But apparently, that was just the beginning.

That night, I slept alone in my room. The electricity has been turned off since nine o’clock because there is not much activity in this village after Isha’. I slept facing the wall, my back to the room. The air felt cold, but not the usual cold that seemed to come from something inanimate.

I don’t know what time, I woke up, I don’t know whether it was a nightmare or a premonition. What was clear was that there was a pressing feeling in my chest, like someone was looking at me from behind.

Slowly, I grabbed the blanket and hugged him. In my heart I tried to calm myself

“Mother might move rooms and sleep here. It’s been a long time since I slept with you.”

I dared to turn around, in the shadows of the room, I saw something beside me.

Hand.

Her skin was white, pale like milk in the moonlight. In the dark, the color looks like it lights up from within and glows faintly. I gasped. But at that time my mind was trying to be sane.

“Mom? You sleep with me tonight?”

Makes sense. Mother often comes when I’m scared, I take a slow breath, try to control myself, and close my eyes again. But the thought was disturbing

“Why is your skin… glowing?”

I opened my eyes again, little by little, I stared at the hand a little longer, and at that moment, something very wrong began to feel. The hand didn’t move. There is no rising and falling of breath under the covers. There was no sound of anyone breathing. There was only complete silence that made my ears ring.

I slowly traced its shape with my eyes. Its shape is like a human hand.

But… the color was too pale, and there was no body. Only two hands lay beside me, as if they had just been carefully stored. His skin was pale, silvery gray, like a wet thing that reflected light. No blood. No scars.

Only the cut hand shines. When my brain realized what I was seeing, my body immediately froze. I wanted to scream, but the sound was trapped in my throat.

The hands moved, the fingers that had been still, slowly opened… then closed as if they were trying to grasp the air. Everything happened right next to my face.

I gasped, fully awake, and without thinking I immediately got out of bed. My legs were shaking, but I ran as fast as I could out of the room. The door opened with a loud bang. I didn’t look back again.

I ran through the dark kitchen, almost tripping over a chair, then opened the door to Mom and Dad’s room.

My breathing sounds intermittent.

“Mom… Mom… in my room” (I said while scared with sweat pouring out)

Mother woke up and immediately hugged me. His hands were warm, very different from the cold hands before.

Dad looked at me with a serious face, without asking anything. He just sighed heavily like someone who already knew the answer.

In their gazes, I saw the fear they never wanted to express. Now I’m sure that creature is not just monitoring… but rather trying to get into our lives.

And for some reason, that always crosses my mind.

After the hand incident, my nights felt even harder. It’s no longer a matter of being afraid of what I see, but of being afraid of what I don’t know.

I often sat quietly in the kitchen, watching my mother prepare breakfast. Sometimes I want to ask directly, but my lips are always locked. Even just hearing the sound of plates clashing makes me remember the sound of objects falling in the old house.

****

Until one morning, when it was just me and Mom in the kitchen, I took courage.

“Mother…” my voice was hoarse, almost drowned out by the sound of the river outside.

Mom stopped stirring the coffee. His hands were shaking a little, but he pretended it was normal.

“What, Sisi?”

I looked at the cup which was full of hot steam. I was afraid to look into his eyes, afraid to see the answer hidden there.

“Do you know why that creature only looks at me?”

My voice broke. “Why am I the only one who can see? And why do we have to keep moving?”

Mother was silent, there was no sound other than the wind passing through the gaps in the wooden walls of the house. Mother didn’t answer right away. His eyes looked far out the window, at the river flowing slowly. Only after a few seconds or minutes did he take a deep breath.

“Side…”

He looked at me, and there was something I’d never seen before that was fearful

“You think we moved because the house is haunted?”

I nodded slightly.

Mother shook her head slowly, of course.

“We moved not because of the house, but because of you.”

My heart seemed to stop beating. “What do you mean, Mother?”

Mother reached out her hand, holding my hand tightly, as if I would disappear if she let go.

“The ghost does not disturb the house.”

Mother’s voice was soft, cracked.

“The ghost is following you.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “But… why? I never did anything.”

Mother swallowed hard, as if the words were hard to come out.

“Because from the moment you were born, you were chosen.”

The word “chosen” stuck like a thorn in my throat.

I want to ask by whom? or for what? but the sound didn’t come out. Mother rubbed my back gently.

“He didn’t attack you because he didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mother’s eyes filled with tears.

“He wanted you to see it. That’s all.”

I fell silent. My chest is tight.

Mother continued, in a voice almost a whisper

“We used to think that if we moved far away… he wouldn’t still find you. But in fact, no matter how far we went, he was always there first. He was never late.”

****

Suddenly I remembered all the events so far, that tall figure never touched me, he just watched, he smiled every time I was scared.

Like… someone is waiting.

“I’m tired, Mom…” my voice faltered.

Mother pulled me into her arms. The warm hug was in contrast to the cold hands that had appeared beside me.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” he said quietly. “We don’t know how to stop it. We only know one way… that is to stay away.”

I want to ask many things.

Who chose me?

What for?

Why me?

But before I could ask, Dad’s footsteps came from the front room. His voice was rushed.

“Minah…”

Dad came in with a pale face.

“Yes. It’s behind the house.”

Mother immediately stood up, grabbed my hand, my mother did not immediately answer. He just stared blankly at the window, as if something was peeking out from behind the curtain of night.

“Your father and mother… never deliberately chose that house, Sisi,” he said softly. “The house chooses us.”

I swallowed hard. “What does that mean? Why is all this terror happening to us? Why… to me?”

Dad took a deep breath, as if each word weighed a ton.

“Sisi, you are not being followed by a single creature.”

“Behind the house… there are guards.”

I tilted my head, confused.

“Guardian… who?”

Dad closed his eyes, as if reliving the terror of years ago.

My mother held my hand so tightly that the cold went to my bones.

“When you were a baby,” mother’s voice trembled, “someone came to our old house. An old woman, she didn’t walk on the ground… she said something to mother.”

Dad continued, his voice low but firm

“Your blood is not ordinary blood.”

I’m stunned.

“You’re perceptive. You can see what others can’t.”

In the drizzle of that memory, my mother looked at me with eyes full of fear and guilt.

“The old woman said… ‘This child can see doors that shouldn’t be opened.’”

I got goosebumps. What door?

Dad stared into the distance as if looking back at the backyard.

“Behind the house there is an old well. Not a water well… but a well that swallows souls.”

The atmosphere suddenly froze.

The night wind rustled the leaves as if listening.

Dad continued,

“The village people call it Waiting Hole. Anyone who is sensitive to the unseen world… will be summoned.”

And at that time I felt my stomach sick.

Am I called?

Isn’t it a coincidence that I’ve been the one being followed all this time?

My mother explained while holding back sobs

“He’s watched you since you were a baby. From the backyard.”

I clearly remember the gaze I always felt from outside the window.

A silent, monitoring, unblinking gaze. Dad added in a hoarse voice

“That creature, Sisi… is not an ordinary ghost. She is not late, not lost. She is waiting.”

“What are you waiting for?” I asked quietly.

Dad looked at me deeply, “Waiting when you are ready to open that door.”

And I seemed to be pulled back into memory, the figure smiling behind the glass, the tuyul lifting the doll, the two pale hands that became a blanket of horror beside me.

None of this is a coincidence. That’s a calling. That’s supervision.

“He didn’t want to hurt you,” mother whispered. “He wants… you back.”

Return?

Where to?

What for?

Father stared blankly as if seeing the figure through thoughts of the past

“The old woman who came before said… you were once one of them.”

My heart stopped beating for a moment.

Part… of them?

Mother continued, almost whispering

“They call you the chosen one, who can see the boundaries between our world and theirs.”

Silence.

Nobody moved.

Even the mice seemed afraid to make a sound.

“And he will always see you,” said father.

“Wherever you move.”

That sentence echoed like a hammer that destroyed all my defenses.

That night, I realized:

I’m not being haunted. I’m being called home.

I didn’t remember the incident as a child, but after all the terror happened and my mother finally told the story, the memory fragments came sharp as shards of glass.

I was born in that house, our first house. The house should be a place of new happiness, not an invitation from another world, behind the house, there is an old well.

Advanced….

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Writer: trough
Editor: Rara Zarary