It was the voice of a child. It was a child definitely, she
thought as she turned around looking for the source of the gurgling voice.
“Mama”, the voice had called out, but the kid was invisible
to her eyes.
She was on a deserted street. There were traffic lights on
each end of the street. At one end the street turned right. That was where the voice
was coming from. She felt the kid would come soon, to her through that street
which turned right. There was a stop sign at the point where the street took a turn.
“Mama”, she heard the voice again and then a laughter of a
kid not more than a year and a half old.
“Mama, it will be hell when I arrive”, the voice told her and
it was followed by more giggling.
She ran towards the street which turned to the right. The
street on which she was running seemed longer than she had imagined. She ran,
her white gown trailing behind her. Her back was soaked in sweat. She ran on
the unending street. The gurgling
laughter now seemed to be coming from behind her as if the kid was following
her.
“It will be Friday the 13th when I arrive”, she
heard the nasal voice one last time.
She forced her eyes open. She was lying on her bed. Her
white night gown was sweaty and her hair stuck on her forehead and cheeks.
She felt a gush of fluid between her legs. She sat up. She
looked at the clock. The time was exactly a minute away from midnight of the sixth
day of the week and twelfth day of the month. Her water broke.
