Mongoloid, Yes. That’s it. She looked Mongoloid. Why he thought of her, he himself could not fathom. Was it her voice? It had been the most commanding voice he had ever heard. Oh no. Could not be that. She hardly spoke. The others were chattering so much. Yet he remembered her.
It was the twilight time. Dusk. Everything looked a little dark and foreboding. The figures moved stealthily. The sounds were subdued. As though expecting something big to happen. The girl moved along the shadows. She had the rod in her right hand. The rod dragged along the earth path. A strange rattling sound. The sound grew louder as the girl moved further.
It had to be her. She knew it. A favorite concoction. Of course there were other considerations too. Purple flowers. The most exquisite flowers. But they were always purple. And in her hand, the wand. It was so long that she had difficulty balancing it in one hand. Occasionally she would spit at passersby. But she would not really spit. He mouth was always dry. No spittle. It was just a sound of spitting.
Cockroaches swarmed over the wall. Where did they all come from? As if by magic. They just appeared. And soon after, they would disappear just as mysteriously too. The crickets were chirping. The sound was ominous. Almost like a warning. Yes, the baying started next. And the howling. The stray cats began their cacophony. And then the mongoloid girl. She spoke. She commanded everyone to be quiet.
And there was quiet.
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