I lie on me bed like the man from me childhood village who did die with he eyes open. Stiff. Staring. I ain’t know what that dead man see but I see hell.
Hell. Ning-ning, some people does call it. I see ning-ning two times on Friday night. The first time was more like a recognition that hell exist. And the second time...well...lemme start from the start...
On Friday night I put one glue trap on the kitchen floor, near the stove. In the middle of the glue trap I set a li’l piece of papaw. Trembling with trepidation, intimidation and all other fearfulations, I loll on the settee in the living room, watch tee vee and wait. My mother gone to bed.
I wait some more, I expect to hear squall and struggle soon in the kitchen. If that happen, then like a trueborn coward I would wake my mother to get rid of the thing.
Not a squeak, not a squawk I hear. I nod off. A shout on the tee vee wake me. Time to go to bed anyway.
Tiptoe into dining room. Peep into kitchen. Immediately, horror scream through me mind like the sound from Psycho when the man did stab the lady through the shower curtain.
The glue trap been three feet away from the original position. The li’l piece of papaw gone missing from the middle.
Ning-ning. Hell. If I did want to deny it, I couldn’t, not now. This was evidence, absolute proof that the thing is in we home, what else coulda move the glue board and go with the papaw?
Ayiyeee kakamole, mama mia kakalamba. I flee in disarray to me bed. I lie staring. And if what I see then wasn’t hell, I ain’t know what it was.
The thing appear in me mind as if it been right there up on the white ceiling...it got four legs, two beady malicious black eyes, fur, a long black tail stiff like a whip. As I stare, it grow bigger, bigger. It look like that creature in The Nutcracker Suite - the movie, not the ballet, I never see a real live ballet. I ain’t even want to contemplate what part of the house the thing is hiding. Slow, careful, I get up and hang me mosquito net, tuck in the hem tight tight under me mattress. Whoever did say hell is a place of we own making, meaning, we imagine it, they ain't know squat. Hell look like a rat.
I wake on Saturday morning with suitcases under me eyes. I think I going crackers.