Theodor Kendal - The thing you love is a killer

November in Vancouver was a cold, shivering month. Flurry of crisp, white snow twirled up the sky, capering like excited children. The greenery was suffused with white, and the air quality was fresh was humid.

In Kingsway, Vancouver, the sound of a mothers singing voice permeated the ambiance of the neighborhood. The houses that ranged along the hilly, greenery landscape were scanty, and it was easy for this singing mother to hear her voice resonating through the house. The house was a duplex, and the woman was a tall, beautiful woman with an angular face. She had high cheekbones that gelled succinctly with her smile as she sang to her nine months old baby. Her long dark hair tapered off into a knot, and her baby's eyes were fixed on her face, smiling as she sang.

You love your mommy, right? she said, grazing the ball of her finger on the childs puffy cheeks.

My boy loves his mama. And his mama loves him too, she said, smiling. The boy smiled with her, drawn to the cheerfulness that emanated from the face of his mother. She was hunkered down on a long, black couch in the living room, and the frame of her baby was decorously sprawled on her laps. Her eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, and she silently wished her boy would let her sleep. She managed to feign cheerfulness, but she could see her child was wide awake, obliterating any sign of reprieve for the beleaguered mother. Elizabeth swiveled her eyes to the wall clock that dangled ever so slightly up the far wall. The time was edging past five forty three in the morning. It made her almost cry. She could feel the tears welling under her eyelids. It made her sad she would have to go through another day without sleep. And being an investment banker, it was hard to find any room for rest once she was in her workplace. More than ever, she wished Edmond, her husband, was around. He was a big time entrepreneur, and had travelled to Toronto to finalize a contract with a Chinese consortium. Perhaps, it was easy to think Elizabeth didnt need to work. She could afford to remain at home, and immerse herself in the wealth of her husband. Only, that was the easy way. And perhaps, for a woman like Elizabeth, she preferred the wild, wild, eccentric dimension to life. She felt really lonely, and wished she could really navigate her way past the hindrance to a sustainably happy life. She wrung herself from the couch, and swooped her face down, so her eyes became locked with the eyes of her boy.

Mommy is going to be back. Mommy needs to hydrate.

The baby blinked, and it seemed like a less formal approval. She dawdled down to the refrigerator in the kitchen, and wrenched a plastic bottle of water from inside. She trudged back into the living room, making a stop at a wall cabinet below the wall clock. She pulled a drawer, and plopped down on the adjoining straight-back chair. There were piles of white envelopes in the drawer. One envelope was particularly shiny, and she raised it to her nose, inhaling the crisp smell, while sliding her eyes shut. Moments later she cocked her head sideways, pressing the side of her face against the envelope. There was the conceivable indication that the envelope meant so much to her. The tears that welled up her eyes had started to trickle down slowly, like abandoned droplets at the bottom of a bottle. For some reason, holding the envelope against the side of her face made her less lonely. The content of the envelope had become a patch of sunshine in her gloominess. For a moment, Elizabeth forgot she had left her baby in the couch. And as the silence of her expectant baby persisted, Elizabeth continued to luxuriate on the impalpable source of her pleasure. She remained there, lost, confined in the deliberation of her senses, closeted from the low twittering of birds that pervaded the quiet of the neighborhood. She had become severely closeted in the loveliness of the envelope, allowing her head rest on the face of the cabinet, Elizabeth nodded off. She briefly found herself in an open tent at the top of a cliff. In her line of vision, she could see a waterfall, and the susurration of the water was ethereal and nostalgic. It reminded her of being in the Grand Canyon in Arizona. It was there she had her honeymoon, and it was one of the most wonderful moment of her life. In her dream, Elizabeth thought she heard a noise. The sound of boots crunching against sticks and brown leaves. She found her heart running up her chest. She ran out of the tent, and suddenly it was dark. There was someone in the dark.

Who are you? she screamed. There was no response. She was in disarray, and the thought of death capered through her mind. She was extremely fraught with fear. She pressed a hand against her brow, and squinted for a sign of the voice. It was absurd. Moments later, she felt a hand clutch against her arm. She screamed in fear and agony.

Die, the voice said, pushing her off the cliff. Elizabeth woke up suddenly, drenched in sweat amidst the cold atmosphere. The dream seemed so real to her, and a rash of gooseflesh rapped through her arms. There was the perceivable indication that there was something out to get her. She could feel it, and could almost taste it in her tongue. Her thoughts capered away nonsensically, and Elizabeth took a while to find herself again. She jolted herself from her mind when her eyes caught the crisp envelope on the floor. She was bending to pick it up, when it dawned on her that her baby was crying. And the sound of his blubbering indicated that he had been crying for a while. She pushed herself from the chair, reeling back to the couch. Phlegm dripped out of his nose as he cried, and his eyes gleamed with tears.

I am so sorry, my baby. Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you more than anything in the world. Stop crying baby.

She picked the baby up, and shook him vigorously. Moments later, she stood up, desperate to stave off his blubbering propensity. The sound of his blubbering died down. And Elizabeth continued to sing, shaking her baby slightly. She thought she heard a twittering sound of the door bell. But she impressed upon herself that the sound came from her head. There was no way someone could be at the door at this time of the day. She continued to rock her baby, and then the sound came again. This time it was loud and a voice came with it.

Honey.

Unthinking, Elizabeth dropped her baby back on the couch. Her husband had promised to return today, but she hadnt envisaged an early return. She hurried down to the door, turned the keys, and unwound the knob. When the door creaked open, Elizabeth was horrified by what she saw outside. It was a man, but it wasnt her husband. The man was donned in an all black suit, and a black mask shielded his face. Patches of tarpaulins were fastened around his feet, and the sight instantly sent grim flushes up her spine. She tried to slam the door close, but the man had had a few years of practice. He wedged the door with his full body frame, and pushed back as hard as he could. Elizabeth fell back, falling on her buttocks. The man was carrying a backpack, and he walked towards her stylishly, like a celebrity on the red carpet.