Helter Skelter: New Writing Vol. 2
Helter Skelter: New Writing Vol. 2

Clean

  • Helter Skelter: New Writing Vol. 2
  • Helter Skelter: New Writing Vol. 2
  • Helter Skelter: New Writing Vol. 2
  • Helter Skelter: New Writing Vol. 2

I’m not sure, but I think I just heard the cat mew. I’m standing under a street lamp with my toothbrush in my hand.

Did I come out looking for the toothpaste?

It seems to be pretty late in the night. I have a strange taste in my mouth. Is that why I wanted to brush my teeth?

It’s a strong, sweet-ish taste. It’s a taste I know but can’t recollect just now. A liquid. Swirling in a bottle, swirling in my glass. Ice cubes floating in it. The cool transparency of the ice cubes against the swirling dark black. There. Now I can very nearly recollect the smell.

I’m pretty sure it is past twelve. Maybe two, three. Certainly past one. Why have I come out onto the street, toothbrush in my hand, looking for toothpaste, at this ungodly hour?

My head feels heavy. The light is hurting my eyes. When I look up, carefully shading them with my palms, the light seems far above me, almost like light from a shooting star. My very own. It doesn’t leave me with a good feeling.

Where is that damned cat? And where did I put the knife?

I fumble in my pockets, struggling to recollect through the fog in my head the exact sequence of events before I landed up on the street. The cat leapt across the room. The room was dark, the lights were switched off. I heard a soft thud immediately after. That was probably the pack of cards cascading down. Even before I could move to the table the cat had landed on the ledge, a silhouette against the open window. Our eyes met for one split moment, its eyes glowing, belligerent.

Then I went blank. When I came to, I remember my head throbbing unbearably as I bent down to lift the cards. I felt something sticky on them, thick, but I couldn’t see what it was in the dark. It clotted and smudged between my fingers. I dropped the cards. That was when I heard the cat again.

Bastard. I’ll get you still. The knife’s in my hand again and I can feel the same sticky substance on it. With one finger I scoop some off the blade, glinting in the light of my street-side meteor, and then lick it off my finger. The taste is wholly unpleasant.

Then it comes back to me: the body slumping forward, clutching the washbasin for support, staggering out to the kitchen, all the while leaving a trail of crimson. I picked up the toothbrush, which was lying bristles down on a clean tile on the bathroom floor. The toothpaste was missing. I can’t sleep unless I have brushed my teeth.

Next in Line →

Itch and Tell

Itch and Tell

Story by Aaditya Talwai
Illustration by Kamal Singh

On Mercury

On Mercury

Story by Armaan Kapur
Illustration by Tara Isha

Good Night, Sleep Tight

Good Night, Sleep Tight

Story by Pooja Pillai
Illustration by Ananya Singh