Yellow

The 12th of December 1986. Around midnight. That was when it happened.

It was the darkest night of the year. Veils of black hung over the sky. Condensed clouds consumed the sky, the land, and everything in between; their shadow loomed over the world and blanketed the forest in a growing darkness that seemed almost unnatural with how it drained all colour from a usually green forest. The rain — a fusillade of needles— thudded on my window; it blurred the scene of the violent winds that hammered into vulnerable trees with the fury of an unyielding torrent, causing them to shiver and bend in their attempt to withstand the perpetually prodding predator.

But I wasn’t exposed to that. The walls of my room —a shield at war—kept me sheltered from the turmoil of the storm, and within them, the tranquillity cocooned me, and I was at peace. As I nestled into my armchair, sinking comfortably like a cat in my favourite light pink pyjamas, I basked in the flickering warmth of the fire dancing in the fireplace. As I drank from my teacup (its deep blue hue rivalling that of the ocean), I felt a gentle warmth spreading through me. The aroma of cinnamon, cardamom, and camellia wrapped around me like a comforting blanket, blending seamlessly with the crackling of the fire. Placing my cup down, I smiled softly to myself.

I was safe. Or so I had thought…

Bang! The sound of glass shattering.

Whoosh. Harsh, howling winds, bringing with them a stabbing cold, infiltrated my room.

I snapped my head towards the window.

A gasp escaped me as my vision blurred. I froze. I was unable to do anything but gape at the sight before me.

My window was shattered into pieces. The shards tumbled downward like a waterfall, but they were rapidly hurtling and plummeting to the ground with the force of a shower of meteorites; countless glass fragments littered the ground, filling my room and covering the floor like sand on a beach. In the middle of it all, was a hooded figure.

He moved towards me. Every step seemed to echo in the room with an unsettling rhythm.

My eyes widened. The echoes of my heartbeat rose to a crescendo. I tried to move away but it was as though my legs were rooted to the ground.

He pounced.

The movement was a blur, there was no time to dodge, no time to defend myself, and there wasn’t even any time for me to brace myself, as he, swift as a shadow, slammed into me and collided into my body with a jarring amount of force. The impact sent shockwaves through my body, knocking me off my feet and propelling me to the ground. Thud! I inhaled sharply as I fell on a sharp shard of glass. It felt like a dagger digging into my skin. My limbs thrashed against his relentless hold, but I was pinned down by his immobilising weight, with his long, pointed nails digging into my skin. I was panting, trying —in vain—to steal some air, but I found myself wheezing as I slowly suffocated. I was immobile. Defenceless. No matter how hard I struggled or strained, my attempts at extrication were futile and only tightened the figure’s grip. There was nothing I could do. I was helpless.

Dejectedly, I looked up at the hooded figure. The sinking feeling of dread enveloped me, as I processed the aberrant figure before me. He was unnaturally thin, with his cheekbones protruding over his sallow skin like nails in felt. His nose was the beak of an eagle with how it arched on his face. His hair was non-existent, revealing the full glory of his lofty domed forehead. His lips (as vibrant as a glass of Merlot) contrasted his pallid face (that looked void of any life) like blood on snow.

I saw a yellow light coming from where his eyes should’ve been. Suddenly, my world was consumed with yellow. My vision was tainted with yellow; it seemed to penetrate my soul and become a part of me.

My vision blurred. The room started spinning and swirling like a yellow sandstorm.

The last thing I registered before I surrendered to the yellow abyss, was the spine-chilling scrapping sound that rang through the room as a knife was sharpened…

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The first thing I noticed was the taste of blood; its salty metallic scent whispering the wails of anguish and suffering. The putrid, pungent pong hung in the room, weaving its way into my throat and searing through my lungs. The next thing I noticed was the biting ropes constricting around me. I noticed how I was ensnared and bound in a stifling, serpentine grip that tightened with each twist and turn. I noticed how the fabric pressed against my skin like a searing band of fire, branding me with an agonizing, scorching embrace. It caused my breath to shorten with each strained, gasping inhale. I then noticed the barbaric brutality of the bitter cold that bit into my bones like a pack of ravenous wolves.

The onslaught of sensations that overwhelmed me gradually faded, leaving a disorienting darkness enveloping me. Within this dense dark, a deafening silence screamed in my brain like a siren, calling me into consciousness. Slowly, the oppressive darkness relinquished its hold, allowing feeble glimmers of light to breach the obsidian void.

With a hesitant flutter, my eyelids fought open. I was greeted with different shades of dark dancing around a light. It took a few forceful blinks to slice through the blur to make sense of the obscured shapes.

I was in a room the size of an oversized closet. The walls, a muted grey canvas marred by countless splashes of crimson, towered over me like colossal giants. The only source of light or warmth was a flickering yellow on the other side of the room.

It was the hooded figure.

"Who are you?!" I questioned.

He stared at me with his piercing gaze.

“What do you want from me?!” I exclaimed, hiding a shiver.

He continued to stare at me. The silence lingered, laden with unspoken intentions.

“L-let me go!” I demanded, my voice trembling, unable to mask the fear.

The yellow light — that penetrated my soul like a dagger — started to flicker like a siren. It started with small hesitatant flickers until it rose to match the speed of my racing heart. The light became blinding, my heartbeat became defeaning, and my world — now yellow— started to spin around me. My head was light and it could’ve been me going mad, but through the haze of my world — my spinning, yellow world— I thought I heard the pitiful cries of a child:

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

And suddenly the yellow stopped. I looked up—he dissipated into thin air, vanishing into the shadows. I was left alone with the scent of his presence lingering in the stifling air and a haunting sense of foreboding…