Spectral Sins

Chapter 09

Dev raked a hand through his hair, staring intently at the closed door and willing the finely aged wood to disclose the secrets of its inhabitants.

He may not have the answers about the one to whom Ahan referred, but at least he was beginning to make some sense of his uncle and aunt's conversation which Tara and he had unintentionally overheard, for he could understand Leela's plight and condition slightly better now-in spite of not knowing what loss she faced or how the loss came to be.

Abruptly a glint from the portrait's gold frame diverted his attention and directed it to Tara; with no thought he went further into the corridor and climbed the staircase leading upstairs.

"Tara?" Dev called, gladly getting off the last step of the rickety staircase to stand on a flooring firmer than the rotting steps; and ventured to her room.

He looked inside her room from the door wide open as usual, and saw Tara struggling to peer out into the afternoon through the window layered thickly with dust.

Unable to wipe the persistent smile off his face, he stepped inside to make his presence known to her, but she loured and stayed engrossed in her evidently frustrating struggle.

Containing his amusement, he took two further strides into Tara's chamber, and was about to call her name when he stilled completely, seeing the hand she lifted to brush the dirt passing through the windowpane; disbelievingly, he blinked his eyes while his mouth hung agape.

She huffed expressively, and tried to wipe the window again, but with the same uncanny result of her hand passing through as if she was composed of nothingness.

He retreated to the door, gazing strangely at the wall right next to her: well-lit and shadow-less, despite her body angled in a way to block the scattered sunbeams sneaking inside through the window on the other side.

Dev scrutinised Tara's being, realising the translucency of her presence-as if she was a matterless spirit-for the sun seemed to be shining through her, with its rays piercing her to collide on the wall next to her and lighting it in muted golden hues.

The hair on the back of Dev's neck rose to a prickle as he hastened to leave, and would have had the back of his foot not slammed against the doorframe, startling her and alerting her of his presence-finally catching her attention.

Tara snapped up, and smiled at Dev, oblivious regarding his discovery of her intangibility.

She turned towards him, joyous to have him return as contrary to her own wishes she had missed his company greatly over the weekend.

She made to approach him-only for him to decline and move farther away, nearly affixing his body to the wall adjoining the doorway, as he swallowed and asked her-horrified at his discovery. "What are you?"

Realising that Dev must have noticed her incorporeality, Tara opened her mouth but shut it subsequently-even if he could hear her, she feared he wouldn't find her presence calming for awhile, and she prayed it'd be only for awhile as to lose him forever would be utterly unbearable, for she did not know when but he'd come to mean greatly to her.

Tara pursued her lips and flashed a small reassuring smile at Dev for both their sakes; but he swiftly turned and fled the chamber, while she stayed in place-suffering with internal struggle to go after him or give him time to absorb and settle—ultimately, she suppressed the impulse of her unbeating heart, and remained in her chamber.

Dev rushed back to his room, sporadically glancing behind him until he was enclosed in the safety of his chamber; he rested his head on the shut door and slid down with his back pressing against it in an imitation to hold it shut, as his heart hammered against his chest so forcefully he was afraid it'll rip itself out if he didn't calm it soon, while his lungs fluttered like an awfully battered butterfly making it difficult to regain his breath.

Gradually he returned to his clear senses and rationality on which he occasionally prided himself; and recalled the substance of her being as he'd witnessed in her room, analysing it objectively and unbiasedly to ensure that he hadn't by any bizarre chance allowed his imagination or worse-cultural superstitions to run amok.

Amidst his meticulous review and deliberation, the eeriness he'd felt while observing the portrait featuring a younger Tara made better sense, for his intuition was unerring to caution him regarding her unnatural retention of youth, and was also correct to alarm him when he'd accidentally glanced at the asphyxiating marks on her neck.

So, for the remainder of the afternoon which ticked by to evening and night, his mind pondered over and over and over about Tara, until he was certain he wasn't mistaken in his assumption to label her as a ghost-a spectre-a bhoot.

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