LONG NIGHT

I inhaled deeply, feeling my lungs and exhaling a long sigh. I smiled to myself, pleased with my accomplishment. As I gazed into the field, I recalled my father's words, "You will do great things. You are born for greatness." I couldn't wait to show him around the house.

I lived in a house with large rooms and a large field as a child. My father was the Gardener, but the house owner's generosity allowed us a space in his home. This time, I was a house owner.

I smiled as I walked through the fields, remembering the seeds my father had given me. I turned abruptly into the house to pick up the seeds to plant. I took the seeds and walked quickly back into the field, thinking about how a tree would grow as my time in the house passed.

I heard a rustle in the grass while planting, but I was too preoccupied to notice the movement. I hoped it was not snakes because I hated snakes. I hastened to leave the field because the thought of a snake in there made me shudder.

While I stood to inspect my work, I noticed the head of something, which I believed to be a rabbit, which calmed me down because it was not a snake. Then I considered, what if the snake was lurking? I immediately turned to leave, making a mental note to call for thorough fumigation; I despised pests.

I decided it was best to run out, but I ended up brisk walking.

When I heard a rustle behind me as I walked, I quickened my pace until I was in an open space and close to the house. When I turned to face the animal that wished to terrorize me, what I saw was quite surprising.

A child about three years old, staring blankly and holding a dead rabbit in his hand, mumbled something I believed to be "sorry".

"What is your name?"

"What are you doing here?" I inquired, but the child remained silent.

I moved in close to cover the distance that separated us. I bent almost to the child's level and inspected him.

"Where are your parents?" I inquired.

"I said I'm sorry," he said with an eye roll.

I found it harsh, and I was not interested in accommodating a toddler's annoyance.

"Stay here," I said firmly.

I entered the house through the kitchen door, and I went to place a call to the Agent to explain why a child would be living in a place I had just purchased.

As I dialed him, I walked to the window to take another look at the child. I looked around, but I couldn't seem to find the child.

"Mummy," I am sure I heard someone say. I nearly jumped out of my skin in shock, dropping the phone. I thought I had locked the door.

"Ohm, It's you," I said as I bent to pick up the phone and walked towards him while examining the phone.

"Do you now remember your mother?" I asked sarcastically, hoping he knew her phone number so I could contact her to deal with this.

He smiled and motioned behind me to something.

"The sink?" I asked as I turned around.

He kept smiling as he kept pointing to something. I looked again at the sink and cupboards. "The sink?" I asked again. I walked over to the cabinet and opened it. Nothing, as empty as space. I could feel his gaze on my back.

I lowered my voice and bent to look him in the eyes. and asked him, "Where is your mother? I promise I won't do anything to her."

He pointed again, and I realized he was pointing at me this time.

I suppressed a laugh and said, "no, your mom, not me."

"But you are," he pointed out.

"Of course not," I shrugged, "but where is she?"

"You?"

"I am not," I exclaimed, raising my voice.

He cried and said, "I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

I was perplexed, but at least he apologized. "It's fine; where is she?" I asked again, tired. "Your mother?" I add.

"But mummy, you are my mother," he smirked.

I suddenly desired to smack the words out of his mouth; I wanted to hit him if it brought him to his senses.

"I swear to God, the next time you call mummy, I will hit you, and I am not bluffing," I said, and I wasn't joking. Aside from their cute faces, I've always had little patience for children because they walk around with such arrogance and get away with it because they're children.

He began crying and rolling on the floor. He heightened his voice at intervals.

I apologized to him; the more I apologized, the louder his voice became. I turned to leave him to his own devices. He dashed over to wrap himself around my left leg. I tried to pull him away from my leg. I hit his head, but he held on tightly.

I continued to walk with him holding my leg and not caring. He slowed my pace because I had to drag my left leg to move with the body. I reached for my bag and attempted to get an item from it. I changed my mind, and I hit him with the bag. He released my leg and screamed at me.

He turned and rammed his head into the wall.

He yelled intermediary and returned to hit his head. I detested the sight of that. For a while, I stood, too stunned to move. His screams were very irritating. I desired it to stop.

I walked slowly toward him; I concluded that this child must be insane. Since he continued to hit his head, I decided to beg him. I begged him to stop, he stopped and looked at me, crying, and he began laughing with tears all over his face, a running nose, and blood on his forehead.

And he said to me sternly, "I said I was sorry."

"It's fine," I said.

"I will be a good boy," He added. I forced a smile.

"I promise you, I will act better," He continued.

I hated hearing him talk, and I would love it if he had remained quiet.

"I am hungry, Mummy," he said.

"What exactly do you want?" I inquired, hoping that this prank would end soon.

"Mummy, you don't seem happy; are you still upset with me?"

"I am not your mother," I said. Almost in tears pleading with him to believe me.

"Why don't you want me when you are my mother?"

"I don't know you," I said while whispering the 'you.'

He looked straight into my eyes, gave a cunning smile, and looked away.

"The game is over, Mummy," he said, looking down at his feet with a sly smirk.

"You are my mother," he said affirmatively.

That smirk broke the last thread of restraint. "GET OUT!" I screamed, "I am and can never be your mother!"

He started to move strangely, which I knew was not good. He charged across the room to the other side, only to jam his head into the wall. I thought he had died or lost consciousness; I mean, I would faint if I ran so fast to hit my head on the wall.

I crept towards him and touched his back as hestood, screaming at the wall while he placed his head on the wall.

He made a swift turn, and I was surprised he could turn quickly. He had a knife with him. I wondered where the knife came from.

I retreated slowly while calculating. I thought to myself, 'he is less than six years old, and I could easily get the knife from him. But another thought tells me otherwise 'this child has demonstrated that he is a 40-year-old trapped in a child's body.'

He charged toward me with the knife, screaming, "I'm sorry." I turned sharply and picked up the pace. And then I heard...

The phone rang, and I realized it was not the first time I had heard it. I equally heard it in my dream.

"It's just a dream," I told myself. I noticed I was sweating. I lay motionless and whispered a small prayer of thanks. I have never been more grateful to have awoken in my life.

I changed my clothes and washed my face, but the phone kept ringing. The house agent happened to be the one calling. He blabbed about something urgently needed.

"I will pay for any expenses this transaction must have incurred for you," I interrupted his monologue. "But I'm no longer interested."

"You are joking, right?" he said.

I lost interest in the rest of the conversation. I mentally checked out of the call. I began to think about how I would tell my father that I had given up on my dream house because of a bad dream. He would probably call it God's will. I am sure he would be a little disappointed.

The Agent wasn't pleased, and I was sorry. But I've never been more certain of a decision; I could not dare buy that house.