Horror Encore

Ling carefully weaved his way around traffic on his bicycle, dodging cars, pedestrians and buses on the busy road in Hong Kong. Favouring his right leg as he got off his bike, he limped painfully up the stairs to his apartment on the third level. Once again, he had hurt himself; something that was almost becoming a daily occurrence. Unlocking the door, he put aside the groceries that he had purchased and took out some cotton swabs along with a package of bandages from his drawer. Dipping the swabs into rubbing alcohol, he winced as he cleaned the wound and gingerly dabbed it with a tissue before wrapping it up with a fabric bandage. Ever since Ling was a kid, he had been known as the injury-prone kid or the kid that always hurt himself. Over the course of a single lifetime, he had slipped off a slide on a playground, fallen multiple times from a bike, stapled his thumb, fainted at a bus stop, and tumbled down the stairs on more than one occasion. No matter how hard he tried to be careful, it seemed accidents and Ling could not leave each other alone, to the point where having an accident was becoming part of who Ling was. Finished bandaging up his leg, he began making dinner, being careful with the gas-powered stove. He had burned himself many-a-time when forgetting to use a towel to hold the hot pan handles. He also had to be extra diligent when chopping the vegetables so as not to cut his fingers with the razor-sharp knife again. All his life, Ling had been punished by his parents for accidents, whether that was breaking a plate, burning the vacuum cleaner or throwing up on the carpet. His proneness to accidents meant that he was constantly in trouble, and eventually he lost what confidence he had in his own abilities. No matter how hard he tried, he could never meet his parent’s expectations until finally, he gave up trying altogether. The disappointment of failing corroded his work ethic like rust weakening a steel sword, making it useless and in a way, purposeless. Moving away from his parent’s home did little to help boost his confidence, but at least he was free from the constant criticism and disappointed looks on their faces every time an accident occurred.

Getting lost in thought, he forgot he had put oil on a hot pan and had left it there till it was starting to smoke profusely like a wildfire. Immediately the fire alarm went off and he instantly turned off the stove and fanned the alarm to turn it off.

Thump! Thump!

Ling could hear his neighbours above him yelling at having been disturbed once again by his cooking disasters.

“Don’t burn down the building idiot! I know you can hear me! This is the third time this month!”

Forgetting about cooking, he took a cup of instant noodles, poured some water into it and microwaved it for several minutes. With a huge sigh, he ate his noodles in silence, pondering when or if he should even try cooking again.

The next morning, Ling got on his bicycle and rode to his workplace in the city centre. Having given up on any jobs that involve any sort of danger or risk, he settled for handing out flyers at a busy mall. But even this job was not without its injuries, as Ling typically gave himself five or six papercuts by the end of the day.

Riding his bike back home, his commute was fairly accident free, except for a small scrape on his arm when he narrowly missed colliding into the corner of a building. Climbing the stairs up to his apartment, he noticed a brown paper package in front of his door. Curious as to what it was and who it was from, he picked it up and went into his apartment. Ripping the paper that was wrapped around the box, he then opened the box carefully.

Boom!

For a second, Ling could feel the shrapnel piercing his face and chest while being propelled by the explosion, but almost immediately, he was back in the doorway looking at the package once again. Checking his face and chest, he realized the bomb was only an imagination and that he was thankfully, injury free.

Taking the box into his apartment for the second time, he cautiously opened it again, hoping that it would not explode in his face. Unfolding the lid, he could see some wrapping paper hiding what was inside, but what troubled Ling was a slight hissing sound that came from the box. To his horror, a large coral snake emerged from the box, dancing around Ling’s head, who in shock dropped the box. The snake instantly struck his ankles and legs and Ling could feel the poison paralyzing his body, until he once again was outside his doorway, staring at the brown

paper-wrapped box.

Checking his ankles and legs for snake bites, he realized that once again it was just a figment of his imagination and he took the brown box inside for the third time and placed it on his coffee table. Shaking the box to guess what would be inside, he slowly opened the box, keeping it at an arm’s length just in case it was another snake. Opening it revealed a canister and a green cloud of gas began filling the room, choking Ling as his lungs started to burn from the airborne chlorine. Struggling to breathe, he took one last breath before he was warped back to the doorway again, staring at the brown paper box.

Even though Ling’s imaginations of opening the box were horrific, he was determined to find out what was really in the box, with his curiosity overcoming his sense of fear.

Bringing it into the apartment, he ever so carefully opened the box and discovered a beautiful chocolate cake dedicated to Ling as was written on the top. Finding a card beside the cake, Ling opened it up and read the encouraging letter from an old friend.

Hello Ling. I hope I find you well. You may be wondering why I’m giving you a cake when it’s not your birthday, nor is it a day to celebrate anything. I wanted to give you the cake to see if you had the bravery to open the package on your doorstep. If you are reading this, then you have done what I always wanted you to do: to face your fears and to overcome them instead of imprisoning yourself with anxiety and fright. I have known you since you were a child, and I understand you have gone through many accidents, but dear, you have to realize they are just accidents and nothing more. Accidents will always happen, but as long as you are sincere and not dishonest, then your heart is in the right place. Don’t give up hope my dear,

Sincerely, Mrs. Ng

Smiling as he finished reading the letter, Ling began to feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time: confidence. Getting out the ingredients form his fridge, he ambitiously chose to make steamed fish, with gai lan and rice. Scraping the scales off the fish, he also removed all the offal, and put it on a plate before setting it on top of a boiling pot of water.

Cutting the gai lan precisely into bite size chunks, he accidentally nicked his thumb, and at first, he felt immobilized by the error, dejected that he had hurt himself again, but regaining his sense of courage, he bandaged the cut and convinced his mind to keep working. Looking at his bandaged-wrapped thumb, he slowly went back to mincing some garlic and fried it before adding the Chinese broccoli, creating a delicious aroma that filled the entire apartment. Using a towel to hold onto the pan and to shake the vegetables around, he tested a piece and confirmed that they were cooked just perfectly. Piling it all into a plate, he opened the pot of water with the steamed fish, and carefully placed the fish onto another plate and generously poured soy sauce, green onions and garlic over it. As he put everything on the dining table, suddenly a bright light blinded him and when he opened his eyes, there he was, sitting next to the cake and with his dinner gone! Cramming his eyes shut to try and bring back the food he had worked so hard on, he opened his eyes and it was still gone.

Wondering what on earth was going on, he slowly went to his fridge and began remaking dinner, cutting the vegetables and steaming the fish. Once again, he laid all the food on his dinner table and just as he was about to eat, he was yanked back like a dog on a leash until he was sitting on his sofa, staring at the chocolate cake.

Hearing a soft knock on the door, he cautiously opened it to find yet another brown paper packaged box in his doorway, with writing on the top.

Had enough yet, Ling? How about opening up this package?

Slowly retreating back to his room, he slammed the door shut and cowered into a corner, rocking his head back and forth, trying to make his nightmare go away. All sorts of horrendous things went racing through his mind, threatening him, taunting him and teasing him till he was petrified of even the smallest sounds. Calling his mother, Ling could hardly speak, so scared of the images flashing through his mind’s eye.

“Ma…Ma? I…I need…help…Ma…I’m…seeing things…Ma…I’m scared!”

As the paramedics took Ling away in a stretcher, the neighbours in the building all curiously watched from their balconies to see what was going on. The terrified young man went into an ambulance and was whisked away amid the sirens and lights. Most of the neighbours were shocked, except for one: an old lady whose apartment was next to Ling’s. Pushing her glasses back onto her nose, she half smiled as the wailing of the ambulance died in the distance. Behind her was the second brown paper package that she had put in front of Ling’s door.

Good riddance!

The letter and imitation worked perfectly to build false hope in the paranoid boy. She had eavesdropped from one of his phone calls that he trusted a lady called Mrs. Ng since he was a child. So, she took the opportunity and decided to impersonate Mrs. Ng with a supposed gift of a chocolate cake. All it took was a second package with the warning on top to push Ling over the edge of reality, and the déjà vu feeling would put even a sound mind into question, let alone a paranoid one.

Enjoying the silence that she had wanted ever since Ling noisily came by, she turned on a record player and relaxed in her chair. The calmness and lack of disruption truly made the apartment feel like her own home again. Sipping her cup of tea, she laid back, satisfied that she had finally won the day.

The next day, the old lady got her purse and headed out for her usual morning walk, when her feet knocked on something left on her doorway. Picking up the estranged package, there was writing on the top, written in a fancy handwriting style.

We know what you did Evelyn.

Shakily retreating back to her apartment, the lady bolted the door and started hyperventilating, causing her to not notice the shadowy figure approaching her from behind.

The End