Shroud: Jinn

24 - Awakening

Fresh footsteps creased the grass a few metres behind me. Each cautious step was spaced out sporadically, possessing a tense rhythm as though the bearer of those feet was too fearful to come close. I paid no heed to their presence and proceeded to push the empty swing repetitively in front of me while I hummed Saleha's favourite lullaby.

Swing.

Swing.

Swing.

"Mustaqim?"

My place was situated in an isolated area at the edge of the kampung and obstructed from the main village's footpath. Nobody would pass by, now that my house was gone unless they had a reason to do so such as picking fruits from the chiku trees that grew near the area.

The man came further up to my side, although still maintaining a safe distance from me. The movement cast an elongated and ponderous shadow over my frame as his body blocked out the slow and molten rays from the setting sun. He placed a few empty crab traps made out of woven rattan by his feet and stepped closer. As he came forward, the man was attacked by fits of nauseating coughs which he tried to stifle. I swatted a buzzing fly away from my scruffy beard - the unkempt facial hair proved bothersome on my otherwise formerly clean-shaven face.

"Don't touch that," I said gruffly as he bent forward to pick up one of the items that pervaded the air with a mixture of offensive smells. His collar was pulled up tight against his nose as he concealed more coughs. "Leave it!" I barked as I advanced towards Latif and smacked his hand away, making the opened glass bottle of spoilt milk fly out of his grasp and onto the grass patch. It rolled across the moist earth and some of the curdled contents spilt out, forcing him to gag. Relieved that the glass bottle did not break, I retrieved it from the ground. I placed it back together with the rotten mangoes and mouldy bread topped with mushy strawberry jam which were invaded by an army of ants and buzzing flies. An unwrapped packet of spicy anchovy fried rice covered in colourful fungus ranging from yellow, orange and greenish-black, laid open. Its ripe, rancid odour indicated that it was well past expiration. A few fully satiated cockroaches crawled away from the food and over my feet as they chased each other in empty canned beans that were strewn under a bush close by.

I cast Latif an annoyed glare and dusted off my hands on my crinkly shirt.

"Why are you keeping them?" he asked. "You should throw them out."

I ignored him and walked back to the swing. I continued to push it in a constant rhythm and hummed away.

"Let me help you," Latif said in a tone that served not as a blatant statement but rather, one that sought for permission.

I slipped out an internal growl at a volume that only I could hear, irritated that he disturbed my humming. I rocked my head from side to side and continued to hum the same tune.

"What's gotten into you?" He approached me and pulled my arm that had a layer of black dirt, grime and dead skin cells. I lost track of the last time I took a shower. His firm grip turned light and gentle as he soon as he touched my arm, "Ya Allah (Oh God). Look at how thin you've gotten. Have you been eating?"

Without missing a beat, I continued pushing the swing with my free hand, "Fruits. Beans."

His hooded eyes scrutinized the makeshift shelter behind me that was well hidden from view as I had built it at the edge of the forest. It was poorly constructed with fallen branches and twigs, held together with thin raffia strings. Piles of forest debris - leaves, grass and moss - leaned against the frame and served as a wall with natural insulation that protected me from the weather elements. A sleeping bag, pillow and blankets laid untidily underneath it.