Grasshoppers (Part II)

A few hours earlier.

Fatimah did not like eating alone. She was not used to it. Years before, they always ate as a family. Then, her husband and daughter were constant presences. Since the funeral though, Rafeah had taken to skipping dinner at home. Given the history between father and daughter, Fatimah thought she understood why. As for Ramli, Fatimah knew that he was probably going to be home late again. 

The living room clock struck eight, and as Fatimah put away the dishes and dried her hands, she heard a sound that chilled her veins.

The shrill, vibrating whistling was like a needle piercing the relative quiet of the aprtment. Fatimah instinctively reached for a knife from the rack. For just a moment, she wondered if she had lost her mind. It was not a sound alien to her. She had grown up with the sounds of crickets, grasshoppers, and all manner of insects.

But this was something different. Fatimah felt as though her younger self was screaming a warning to her from deep inside. Trying to remind her of a superstitious tale from her kampung. She had largely forgotten such stories since she wedded her husband. He was pious and intolerant of anything he considered as deviant. Yet, decades on, it seemed that the ‘deviant’ knowledge had stayed with Fatimah after all. Their return to the forefront of her thoughts had been picking up pace since she became a widow. The heart attack had made her suspicious, but she had let it go at the time, not wanting to traumatize her children further.

Ramli had been complaining to her about an infestation of crickets and insects. She had brushed him off, but she had heard them too.

But never inside the house.

Her nerves wound ever tighter as she scanned the kitchen for signs of the intruder. When, she heard the cry again from the living room, Fatimah tightened her grip on the knife and took slow, cautious steps towards the source of the infernal noise.

As she poked her head over the threshold, she saw it. 

It could have passed for a normal grasshopper. Except that its size was monstrous. Fatimah thought that its body spanned the length of her forearm. The creature’s magnified size also meant that its compound eyes, feelers, mandibles, and limbs were on clear display. Worst of all was the sickly yellow colour of the monster’s body. It made her sick just to look at it.

She heard one more chirp then saw the creature launch itself off the dining table and towards her. She closed her eyes and slashed at it blindly. A shrill scream also escaped her lips as fear overtook her. She felt no feedback from her slash and knew that she must have missed. She opened her eyes slowly and scanned the room. No sign of the fiend.

Another sharp whistle from Fatimah’s right startled her, and she wheeled around while swinging her knife downwards in a backhand slash. She felt her blade make contact with some part of the thing’s body. Fatimah had kept her eyes open this time and she saw that she had managed to severe one of the six legs with her assault. However, she was dismayed to find that the creature had shrunk itself to about the size of her palm. This confirmed her worst fears.

A thick, powerful spray of red liquid shot out from the hole which marked the spot which once belonged to the severed leg. The stink of it reminded Fatimah of the carcasses and corpses which had needed to be cleared out of the kampung occasionally, having been preyed upon by unseen predators. As it splashed onto her clothes, Fatimah gagged and staggered backwards.

She backed herself up against the wall by the front door. Her eyes darted from one spot to another. Her mind was also in overdrive as her memories about the damned demonic thing surfaced rapidly. She was being targeted. But by whom? And why? 

As she struggled to think while staying on guard, Fatimah felt her heart stop as all the iights in the apartment extinguished and she was plunged into darkness. Panic began to set in and she gripped the knife in both hands, stabbing and slashing in random directions in the futile hope of inflicting a decisive blow.

In the silent darkness, Fatimah could hear the booming of her heart. She could also hear an occasional chirp, each time from a different direction. She felt as though it was mocking her. Fatimah did not know how long her standoff had lasted and how much longer she would have to hold out. Tears of fear and sadness were streaming down her face and she choked back sobs more out of instinct than anything else. 

Light suddenly returned to the living room. Fatimah reflexively released the grip of her left hand from around the knife hilt so that she could shield her eyes from the light.  As her vision cleared, she could see Ramli staring at her wide-eyed.

Mixed emotions ran through Fatimah as she moved to embrace her son. The knife dropped with a clatter as her nerves began to loosen. She felt her legs go out from under her. The aging woman could feel her son’s strong hands catch her before she hit the floor. Then she felt her throat constricting and began gasping for air. She could also feel her consciousness begin to slip. She could not pass out yet. She still had to warn her son, her children of the danger.

There was just one thing she had to tell Ramli. One word, three syllables. That was all Fatimah needed to muster. She willed her vocal cords to work, to squeeze out one last thing.

“Pe… pe…” One down, two to go. Fatimah focussed her every thought to the task at hand. Then she heard a chirp.

And then another. 

“Pe…le…”

Fatimah winced and groaned softly as she felt a sharp pain of her prick at her lower back. She gave in to the darkness.