Cats are by nature docile, lovable animals and as such tend to be lavished with affection by their human masters. Blackie, my grandmother's tabby cat, was like that, like any other cat. But behind that lovable disposition was a malicious, spiteful character, something I had seen long ago, when I was just a schoolboy. It was my grandfather who bought Blackie from the keeper of a Balinese temple during a holiday on the island years ago. She was like any ordinary cat, except for the jet black fur and shining, green eyes. She had around her neck, a leather collar with inscriptions in a script that was alien to me. Grandpa once told me they were Sanskrit. But he did not say what they meant, probably because he could not read them himself. All he said was that Blackie was a lucky cat and anyone who took care of her and loved her would always be blessed with wealth.
And that was why, when my grandfather died, grandma showered Blackie with love. She treated her like her own child. Blackie slept on a lovely, plush cushion. She had the best food and whenever she meowed away, it was Mak Minah, the cook, who would be scolded and blamed for supposedly not feeding her well. In short, Blackie was Queen. One thing that riled me was, when Blackie decided she needed a lap, grandma could stand holding her for hours, sometimes falling asleep in her seat. As she lay with languid eyes on grandma's lap, Blackie would be eyeing my every movement. I knew, for there had been many times when, engrossed at my desk, I would look up to find those eyes staring unblinkingly at me. There was never a hint that she liked having me around or enjoyed what I did to her. I used to try stroking her black fur, but everytime I did that she would recoil and evade me. Sometimes she would snarl and bound away at the slightest touch. evidently, that cat despised me.
Hence, this hostility between us. It had grown so bad, I was just waiting for the chance to wipe her out of the face of the earth. And she... God alone knew how she felt towards me. When some Indians came to grandma's house to peddle medicine one day, and caught sight of Blackie, they turned wide eyed and enthused, 'This cat, very special. You good to it, it very good to you. You bad to it, it more bad.' Then, after reading the inscriptions on Blackie's leather collar, they nodded again and again and described what a lucky cat she was. I wished I had listened to those medicine paddlers I would not have been in the position I'm in now... pursued and haunted everywhere by Blackie's ghost; hearing her footsteps trailing me whenever I happened to be in a dark place...
Sometime after we took her as a pet, Blackie bore a kitten. I was amazed by her behavior since she became a mother. Never had I seen a cat that cared so much for its young. She would take the kitten along wherever she went, fearful, I guessed, that it would fall prey to me if left alone. When she lay down, the kitten would always be playing nearby. If I walked by her, she would look at me disdainfully, perhaps out of conceit that she was grandma's darling, and proud that she was so good at taking care of her baby. And grandma added insult to injury by always making it my duty to shop for their food., and it always had to be the best stuff, expensive milk, expensive fish, expensive meat, expensive everything.
One day, grandma said, 'Did you know, Jamil, that we have a royalty for pets? Our cat are descended from those the ancient kings of Bali used to keep. Blackie carries their line.' As she spoke, grandma held out her hand and Blackie jumped onto her lap and rubbed her glossy black fur against her. Grandma had no idea how I hated that cat and its baby. Grandma then related how grandfather had a Balinese temple keeper steal Blackie from the palace and then purchased her from him for a fortune. The temple keeper said Blackie was a lucky cat. Trouble was, she also carried a terrible curse. Hence, grandpa's regret much later for having bought her and brought her home. 'That curse, its utter nonsense. Me, I have no fear of Blackie. Love her, in fact,' grandma continued.
Ever since I heard grandma's story and learnt about Blakie's curse, fear began to mix with my hatred towards the cat. In time, the fear grew so bad, I began hearing Blackie's footsteps following me whenever I was alone at home. And yet there would be no Blacki when I turned around! Soon, I began checking the whole bedroom and would be peering under the bed every night before going to sleep. Having satisfied myself that Blackie was not hiding somewhere inside, I would rush to lock the door and the windows. I developed this nagging fear that she might strike as I slept, seize my throat and tear it apart and kill me. I believed that Blackie must be waiting for the chance to get rid of me too. I even bought myself a thick leather collar which I wore around my neck like a dog all night every night, just in case Blackie ever came for my throat.
At times, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, I would hear Blackie outside the bedroom, quietly approaching the locked door. Then I would hear her scratching at the door as if trying to open it. That always sent shivers running through my body and, what with the room in darkness, all sorts of frightening ideas would start haunting me. What if I had forgotten to lock the door and Blackie was able to get into the room? She would certainly jump up the bed and... Oh! My God! My whole body would go weak thinking what would happen to me in the paws of that cat. Sometimes as I lay in the dark room, my mind would be troubled and I would have visions of Blackie gaining entry and pouncing on me in bed. With trembling hands I would hold my neck to assure myself that the leather collar was still intact.
At other times, courage would appear, telling me... hey, to hell with it, you only die once! And I would jump out of the bed, switch the bedroom lights on, open the door, and quietly step out as far as I dared to peer around and see if Blackie was about. I would not find her... and then I would silently return to the bedroom, always looking over my shoulders, watchfully, fearfully. I would shut and lock the door, even lean a chair against it to reinforce it, before jumping back into bed to cover myself from head to toe with the blanket. Only then would I get a good, sound sleep right into the morning. That was how I lived night after night. Even my studies suffered. My mind was so preoccupied with Blackie that I could not concentrate. Sometimes I even imagined her trailing me to school and sitting behind me in class, eyeing every move I made.
Then one day I had my revenge. I gave Blackie a taste of the mental torture she had inflicted upon me. I still remember how great it felt then. That day, Blackie's kitten had somehow managed to get into my room by itself. I had just reached home from school when I found it, fast asleep in, of all places, my bed. Well, as a Malay would say, you wished for some shoots and up comes a bowl of salad! It's pay day, my dear! If I could not get Blackie, her kitten would do! I slipped on a pair of leather gloves which I had bought along with the leather collar that I wore every night. Then I put on the leather collar itself, for, while not as big as its dam, that kitten still worried me. Cautiously, I closed in, went up against the bed, and grabbed my prey. The moment it felt my hands, the kitten stirred and opened its eyes. It seemed to know what I was up to, and made a swift attempt to escape. But I was faster. Before it could even whimper, my hands were on its throat. 'Die, you bastard! Die!' I said, tightening my grip. The kitten writhed in agony. That very moment everything around me seemed to turn topsy-turvy and my ears went booming like a cannon. But my hands clung to the animal's neck. I had no idea how long it was before I finally released my grip and the lifeless form dropped onto the floor.
That instant, I heard Blackie scratching at the door outside and mewing for her baby. Once again I was overcome by terror, me, a boy of twelve, strong and healthy, terrified by the cries of a black cat in broad daylight! Cold sweat streamed down my forehead. Where was I to hide the kitten's body? In a state of confusion, I flung it out of the window with all my strength. When I heard it landing in the bushes, I removed my leather collar and leather gloves and hid them in my school bag. Then, wearing a mask of calmness, I opened the door. 'Come in, Blackie. Come in dear,' I said, trying to show that nothing untoward had happened in the room. Blackie ignored me. She dashed inside and ran madly about, sniffing all the time, on the bed, at my bag of books, and mewing desperately. At last, she found the spot on the floor where her dead kitten had landed earlier. She sniffed at it, and stared at me. In her eyes I saw not loathing, but sorrow. Never had I seen such a pitiful look in an animal. But within moments the look was transformed, and now it was all fury and malevolence. Terror returned to grip me, and along with it came regret for having done what I had done. but, it was over now and there was nothing one could do about it. All Balckie saw in me now was a murderer, the murderer of her innocent baby.
Blackie retreated step by step and went away. That night, my sense of terror heightened. I dared not go to bed, fearful that Blackie might decide to settle the score with me and fearful that my despicable act might have come to grandma's knowledge. Good thing the old lady never suspected I was the culprit. She presumed Blackie's baby had been catnapped or was somehow missing. Finally, with sleepiness getting the better of me, I headed nervously for my bedroom, looking around warily to see if Blackie was stalking me. Having locked the doors and windows, I threw myself on the bed. I braced myself to hear Blackie's footsteps outside the door, as I had always heard them. But there was no sound. I waited, and waited, till finally I fell asleep. I had no idea how long it was before I awoke, but when I did, I found the door open. And right there in the doorway stood Blackie, the body of her dead kitten in her mouth.
She came straight at me, looking neither left nor right. She mounted the bed and placed the body on my blanket. At that very moment a bluish light shone around her head and, believe it or not, Balckie spoke. Her mouth moved as a deep throated voice issued forth, The good shall be rewarded, and the evil shall face punishment. The day shall come when the malicious tastes retribution.' Thereupon, Blackie jumped down and dashed out of the room, her footsteps fading away until she could not be heard anymore. I was petrified. My body trembled and my teeth rattled in chilling horror. I braved myself to get up from bed and found, true enough, that my bedroom door was wide open. And there on the bed lay the kitten's body. I ran to Mak Minah's room and knocked on her door. I pleaded with her to let me spend the night there. Perplexed as she was with my behavior, she obliged.
The next morning, without anyone's knowledge, I buried Blackie's kitten in as deep a grave as I could dig behind the house. On my return, I was met by Mak Minah/ She had just come out of grandma's bedroom. The look on her face spelt shock. 'No wonder you couldn't sleep last night, Jamil. Grandma passed away in bed!' The news did not shock me, for grandma was old and did not have long to live. She left behind a fair amount of wealth but that was of little concern to me. What really pleased me was that, at last, Blackie and I were equal. And the time was ripe for something to be done to free myself of this fear of her. I must have this peace of mind. Blackie must die. I got hold a steel bar and kept in my bedroom. I searched for Blackie and found her hiding under my grandmother's bed. I caught her and took her to the room. When I ran into Mak Minah along the way, I pretended to stroke the cat and said sweet nothings to her. Of course, in my mind, I was saying, 'Your time has come, Blackie!'
All the way to the room I could feel Blackie's body shivering. She looked at me, with unblinking eyes. I flung her inside and, after locking the door and windows, picked up the steel bar. Blackie lay still where I had thrown her. She just stared at me. We eyed each other as if to see who was going to make the first move. I snatched the leather collar around her neck. It broke with little resistance. The steel bar in my hand then swung up and down, again and again, battering Blackie's body, till she moved no more. I stopped only when I had had enough. Blood spattered the floor, and did not spare my clothes either. Now I was free. No more Blackie to haunt me. No more footsteps outside the bedroom to drive me crazy.
I used to inheritance grandma left me to see me through tertiary education. Throughout my studies, I lived at the university hostel and did not return to grandma's house until I graduated at the age of 24. By then, too, I had married Jamilah. Sweet Jamilah, a fellow student at the university, with whom I had fallen in love. Jamilah, whom I cherished and adored. She was about twenty, petite and delicately built, with lovely fair skin. But it was her shining, jet black hair and eyes that stole my heart. Life was happiness for me then, for I was rich and I had a lovely woman by my side. I thought the idyllic existence was going to last forever. But, no, that was not to be, for just one day after we moved into grandma's house, tension began to emerge between Jamilah and I.
I had left Jamilah alone at home to do the marketing. On my returned, I found her in grandma's room, her eyes transfixed at a picture of Blackie hanging on the wall opposite grandma's bed. Ever since Blackie died, I had not been thinking of that cat at all, but the moment I saw her picture, all those events which happened years ago returned to memory. I stood watching Jamilah from behind the bedroom door. When she turned around to face me, her eyes seemed at a glance, as shining as Blackie's, her hair as black as Blackie's fur. What was the meaning of this? Why didn't I realize this when I first met her? Indeed, in Jamilah's eyes was the same look of terror I saw in Blackie's moments before I killed her.
Oh!... you scared the wits out of me, dear,' said Jamilh as she came to me. 'Hey, what's wrong with you? You look like you've just seen a ghost,' she continued, smiling. 'Nothing's wrong, just that when you stood in front of the cat's picture, your eyes and your hair looked just like its eyes and fur,' I replied. 'Oh, come on,' she said with a chuckle, 'me looking like a cat? Don't talk nonsense!; Nonsense, indeed. Jamilah sounded to me then just like Blackie when she spoke to me the night she left her kitten's body on my bed. 'But, you know, Blackie was a lovely cat, and it came from a royal palace. So if I said you looked like her, you shouldn't be offended. We're talking about beauty and bearing here,' I said, returning her smile and holding her delicate body in my embrace.
Deep inside I wondered, was she going to struggle free? Was she going to tremble all over in my arms? But, no, she did not. Jamilah did not even return to embrace. All she did was press her cheek against my nose. Days turned into months, and months into years. Life with Jamilah was peaceful but there always seemed to be this uneasiness between us. We were always watching each other's movements. One night, I returned home later then usual. Jamilah was already asleep in the bedroom. Not wishing to awaken her, I quietly lay down beside her. That night i dreamt of Blackie and her baby. In my ears I could hear her cries in search of the dead kitten. I awoke from sleep with a start and my ears could still hear very distinctly that frantic mewing.
Jamilah was no longer beside me. I got up and went quietly out of the room to look for her. I noticed the door to grandma's room was open and the room brightly lit. When I peered inside through the open door, I saw a pair of shining eyes staring straight at me. Instantly my breathing turned heavy as shock and apprehension engulfed me. But I managed to summon the courage to approach the pair of shining eyes, which seemed to have withdrawn in fear into a corner of the room. Hardly had I taken three steps when I saw Jamilah dashing out. She darted back to our bedroom and locked the door from inside. Furious, I rushed to the bedroom and knocked on the door repeatedly like someone gone berserk.
'Open the door! Open the door right now!' I screamed. Suddenly the door open and Jamilah was standing in front of me, bleary eyed as though she had just got up from sleep. 'What's all this racket you're making in the middle of the night?' she asked. I responded by questioning her, 'What were you doing in grandma's room?' 'Me, in grandma's bedroom? Didn't you see that I had been asleep? I only awoke when I heard your screaming.' 'But the door was locked from inside.' 'You probably pulled the door shut so hard when you left the room, it locked itself,' Jamilah replied. And as she went back to bed, she continued, 'Come back to sleep. You must have had a nightmare.'
All night long, I could not sleep thinking about that strange incident. Another night, not long after, I went to bed earlier than usual as I was very tired, and awoke feeling a heavy weight bearing upon my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. I tried to open my eyes but my eyelids refused to budge. I managed to open them a little with some effort, to find Jamilah lying face down on top of me. The eyes that glared at me then were definitely Blackie's. Jamilah drew her face closer and pressed her lips against mine and kissed them. I felt I could not breathe, as if she had sucked my very soul out. I tried to free myself but Jamilah seemed to have drained my whole body of energy and I found no strength to move at all. Then slowly she rose, glaring at me with spite in her eyes. She kissed me on the lips again and this time I felt I was going to die. But with all the strength that was left in me, I managed to push Jamilah off my chest and screamed for help as loudly as I could. That brought the chauffeur and the gardener sprinting into the room.
'What happened, Sir? A burglar? Want us to call the police?' they asked. 'Nothing happened, He's just had a bad dream. Don't worry. Go back to bed,' Jamilah replied calmly. When they left, I got up and snatched Jamilah's hand. I had another shock, for there on her wrist was the same leather collar that used to hang around Balckie's neck. 'Look at this... it's Blackie's leather collar. You've turned into that cat, Milah,' I screamed. 'No! I found this in your cupboard and I put it on simply because its lovely. This isn't Blackie's collar. It's a bangle,' replied Jamilah. 'Take it off, now. But no I guess you won't be able to take it off before turning into Blackie,' I snarled, and immediately jumped at her and went for her throat. I went into a fit of laughter as Jamilah struggled violently like a hen being slaughtered. I strangled her with all my power, till she began to froth from her mouth.
But then the commotion brought the chauffeur and the gardener back to the room. The pulled us apart and bound my hands behind my back. They handed me over to the police. Days later I was taken to court for attempting to kill Jamilah. But the doctor who examined me told the judge he had found me mentally unsound. The judge decided I should be sent for treatment at a mental institution. I spent three years languishing in the hospital, even though I was as sane as any of you. Jamilah visited me at the hospital everyday. Eventually, she managed to persuade the doctor to discharge me, saying she wanted to take care of me herself. She claimed that life had been lonely ever since I was committed to the institution. though I had tried to kill her, I was still her husband and she still loved me. She insisted on looking after me and nursing me back to health. Seeing how earnest she was, the doctor let her take me home.
The following day, Jamilah came to the hospital to fetch me home to grandma's house. Well, before I lose my life in her hands, I want all of you to know the strange things that had happened to me. I... am going to die in Jamilah's hands. 'The day shall come when the malicious tastes retribution,' said Blackie that night when I killed her kitten. Jamilah shall now settle the score for Blackie. I wish all of you farewell...
'It's really a wierd story,' said Dr. Ismail to me. 'I found the diary under Jamil's bed after his wife left to take him home yesterday, You believe it? You think its true?' 'I'm not sure, really,' I replied. 'Let's pay him a visit,' said Dr. Ismail as he got up to leave. We made for his car. Ismail was the doctor who treated Jamil. A close friend of mine. We had been friends since our school days. Jamil lived far from town, about twenty miles away, at a remote location far from other houses. When we reached the place we found it deserted, very quiet, although the front door was open. We went in. 'That must be his bedroom,' whispered Dr. Ismail as he held my arm. He led the way there and peered inside.
Jamil was sprawled on the bed and on top of him stood a large, black cat. It had a leather collar around her neck. When it heard us, the cat turned around, its eyes shining, full of anger. We retreated, and instantly the cat sprang towards us. We jumped aside to avoid it, and the cat dashed out of the house and out of sight. Only then did we realize that Jamil was no longer alive. On his neck was a gaping wound, as if some sharp teeth had sunk into it. Blood was spilling onto the mattress. 'My God! Could it be possible? Could Jamil's story actually be true?' exclaimed Dr. Ismail.
At times, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, I would hear Blackie outside the bedroom, quietly approaching the locked door. Then I would hear her scratching at the door as if trying to open it. That always sent shivers running through my body and, what with the room in darkness, all sorts of frightening ideas would start haunting me. What if I had forgotten to lock the door and Blackie was able to get into the room? She would certainly jump up the bed and... Oh! My God! My whole body would go weak thinking what would happen to me in the paws of that cat. Sometimes as I lay in the dark room, my mind would be troubled and I would have visions of Blackie gaining entry and pouncing on me in bed. With trembling hands I would hold my neck to assure myself that the leather collar was still intact.
At other times, courage would appear, telling me... hey, to hell with it, you only die once! And I would jump out of the bed, switch the bedroom lights on, open the door, and quietly step out as far as I dared to peer around and see if Blackie was about. I would not find her... and then I would silently return to the bedroom, always looking over my shoulders, watchfully, fearfully. I would shut and lock the door, even lean a chair against it to reinforce it, before jumping back into bed to cover myself from head to toe with the blanket. Only then would I get a good, sound sleep right into the morning. That was how I lived night after night. Even my studies suffered. My mind was so preoccupied with Blackie that I could not concentrate. Sometimes I even imagined her trailing me to school and sitting behind me in class, eyeing every move I made.
Then one day I had my revenge. I gave Blackie a taste of the mental torture she had inflicted upon me. I still remember how great it felt then. That day, Blackie's kitten had somehow managed to get into my room by itself. I had just reached home from school when I found it, fast asleep in, of all places, my bed. Well, as a Malay would say, you wished for some shoots and up comes a bowl of salad! It's pay day, my dear! If I could not get Blackie, her kitten would do! I slipped on a pair of leather gloves which I had bought along with the leather collar that I wore every night. Then I put on the leather collar itself, for, while not as big as its dam, that kitten still worried me. Cautiously, I closed in, went up against the bed, and grabbed my prey. The moment it felt my hands, the kitten stirred and opened its eyes. It seemed to know what I was up to, and made a swift attempt to escape. But I was faster. Before it could even whimper, my hands were on its throat. 'Die, you bastard! Die!' I said, tightening my grip. The kitten writhed in agony. That very moment everything around me seemed to turn topsy-turvy and my ears went booming like a cannon. But my hands clung to the animal's neck. I had no idea how long it was before I finally released my grip and the lifeless form dropped onto the floor.
That instant, I heard Blackie scratching at the door outside and mewing for her baby. Once again I was overcome by terror, me, a boy of twelve, strong and healthy, terrified by the cries of a black cat in broad daylight! Cold sweat streamed down my forehead. Where was I to hide the kitten's body? In a state of confusion, I flung it out of the window with all my strength. When I heard it landing in the bushes, I removed my leather collar and leather gloves and hid them in my school bag. Then, wearing a mask of calmness, I opened the door. 'Come in, Blackie. Come in dear,' I said, trying to show that nothing untoward had happened in the room. Blackie ignored me. She dashed inside and ran madly about, sniffing all the time, on the bed, at my bag of books, and mewing desperately. At last, she found the spot on the floor where her dead kitten had landed earlier. She sniffed at it, and stared at me. In her eyes I saw not loathing, but sorrow. Never had I seen such a pitiful look in an animal. But within moments the look was transformed, and now it was all fury and malevolence. Terror returned to grip me, and along with it came regret for having done what I had done. but, it was over now and there was nothing one could do about it. All Balckie saw in me now was a murderer, the murderer of her innocent baby.
Blackie retreated step by step and went away. That night, my sense of terror heightened. I dared not go to bed, fearful that Blackie might decide to settle the score with me and fearful that my despicable act might have come to grandma's knowledge. Good thing the old lady never suspected I was the culprit. She presumed Blackie's baby had been catnapped or was somehow missing. Finally, with sleepiness getting the better of me, I headed nervously for my bedroom, looking around warily to see if Blackie was stalking me. Having locked the doors and windows, I threw myself on the bed. I braced myself to hear Blackie's footsteps outside the door, as I had always heard them. But there was no sound. I waited, and waited, till finally I fell asleep. I had no idea how long it was before I awoke, but when I did, I found the door open. And right there in the doorway stood Blackie, the body of her dead kitten in her mouth.
She came straight at me, looking neither left nor right. She mounted the bed and placed the body on my blanket. At that very moment a bluish light shone around her head and, believe it or not, Balckie spoke. Her mouth moved as a deep throated voice issued forth, The good shall be rewarded, and the evil shall face punishment. The day shall come when the malicious tastes retribution.' Thereupon, Blackie jumped down and dashed out of the room, her footsteps fading away until she could not be heard anymore. I was petrified. My body trembled and my teeth rattled in chilling horror. I braved myself to get up from bed and found, true enough, that my bedroom door was wide open. And there on the bed lay the kitten's body. I ran to Mak Minah's room and knocked on her door. I pleaded with her to let me spend the night there. Perplexed as she was with my behavior, she obliged.
The next morning, without anyone's knowledge, I buried Blackie's kitten in as deep a grave as I could dig behind the house. On my return, I was met by Mak Minah/ She had just come out of grandma's bedroom. The look on her face spelt shock. 'No wonder you couldn't sleep last night, Jamil. Grandma passed away in bed!' The news did not shock me, for grandma was old and did not have long to live. She left behind a fair amount of wealth but that was of little concern to me. What really pleased me was that, at last, Blackie and I were equal. And the time was ripe for something to be done to free myself of this fear of her. I must have this peace of mind. Blackie must die. I got hold a steel bar and kept in my bedroom. I searched for Blackie and found her hiding under my grandmother's bed. I caught her and took her to the room. When I ran into Mak Minah along the way, I pretended to stroke the cat and said sweet nothings to her. Of course, in my mind, I was saying, 'Your time has come, Blackie!'
All the way to the room I could feel Blackie's body shivering. She looked at me, with unblinking eyes. I flung her inside and, after locking the door and windows, picked up the steel bar. Blackie lay still where I had thrown her. She just stared at me. We eyed each other as if to see who was going to make the first move. I snatched the leather collar around her neck. It broke with little resistance. The steel bar in my hand then swung up and down, again and again, battering Blackie's body, till she moved no more. I stopped only when I had had enough. Blood spattered the floor, and did not spare my clothes either. Now I was free. No more Blackie to haunt me. No more footsteps outside the bedroom to drive me crazy.
I used to inheritance grandma left me to see me through tertiary education. Throughout my studies, I lived at the university hostel and did not return to grandma's house until I graduated at the age of 24. By then, too, I had married Jamilah. Sweet Jamilah, a fellow student at the university, with whom I had fallen in love. Jamilah, whom I cherished and adored. She was about twenty, petite and delicately built, with lovely fair skin. But it was her shining, jet black hair and eyes that stole my heart. Life was happiness for me then, for I was rich and I had a lovely woman by my side. I thought the idyllic existence was going to last forever. But, no, that was not to be, for just one day after we moved into grandma's house, tension began to emerge between Jamilah and I.
I had left Jamilah alone at home to do the marketing. On my returned, I found her in grandma's room, her eyes transfixed at a picture of Blackie hanging on the wall opposite grandma's bed. Ever since Blackie died, I had not been thinking of that cat at all, but the moment I saw her picture, all those events which happened years ago returned to memory. I stood watching Jamilah from behind the bedroom door. When she turned around to face me, her eyes seemed at a glance, as shining as Blackie's, her hair as black as Blackie's fur. What was the meaning of this? Why didn't I realize this when I first met her? Indeed, in Jamilah's eyes was the same look of terror I saw in Blackie's moments before I killed her.
Oh!... you scared the wits out of me, dear,' said Jamilh as she came to me. 'Hey, what's wrong with you? You look like you've just seen a ghost,' she continued, smiling. 'Nothing's wrong, just that when you stood in front of the cat's picture, your eyes and your hair looked just like its eyes and fur,' I replied. 'Oh, come on,' she said with a chuckle, 'me looking like a cat? Don't talk nonsense!; Nonsense, indeed. Jamilah sounded to me then just like Blackie when she spoke to me the night she left her kitten's body on my bed. 'But, you know, Blackie was a lovely cat, and it came from a royal palace. So if I said you looked like her, you shouldn't be offended. We're talking about beauty and bearing here,' I said, returning her smile and holding her delicate body in my embrace.
Deep inside I wondered, was she going to struggle free? Was she going to tremble all over in my arms? But, no, she did not. Jamilah did not even return to embrace. All she did was press her cheek against my nose. Days turned into months, and months into years. Life with Jamilah was peaceful but there always seemed to be this uneasiness between us. We were always watching each other's movements. One night, I returned home later then usual. Jamilah was already asleep in the bedroom. Not wishing to awaken her, I quietly lay down beside her. That night i dreamt of Blackie and her baby. In my ears I could hear her cries in search of the dead kitten. I awoke from sleep with a start and my ears could still hear very distinctly that frantic mewing.
Jamilah was no longer beside me. I got up and went quietly out of the room to look for her. I noticed the door to grandma's room was open and the room brightly lit. When I peered inside through the open door, I saw a pair of shining eyes staring straight at me. Instantly my breathing turned heavy as shock and apprehension engulfed me. But I managed to summon the courage to approach the pair of shining eyes, which seemed to have withdrawn in fear into a corner of the room. Hardly had I taken three steps when I saw Jamilah dashing out. She darted back to our bedroom and locked the door from inside. Furious, I rushed to the bedroom and knocked on the door repeatedly like someone gone berserk.
'Open the door! Open the door right now!' I screamed. Suddenly the door open and Jamilah was standing in front of me, bleary eyed as though she had just got up from sleep. 'What's all this racket you're making in the middle of the night?' she asked. I responded by questioning her, 'What were you doing in grandma's room?' 'Me, in grandma's bedroom? Didn't you see that I had been asleep? I only awoke when I heard your screaming.' 'But the door was locked from inside.' 'You probably pulled the door shut so hard when you left the room, it locked itself,' Jamilah replied. And as she went back to bed, she continued, 'Come back to sleep. You must have had a nightmare.'
All night long, I could not sleep thinking about that strange incident. Another night, not long after, I went to bed earlier than usual as I was very tired, and awoke feeling a heavy weight bearing upon my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. I tried to open my eyes but my eyelids refused to budge. I managed to open them a little with some effort, to find Jamilah lying face down on top of me. The eyes that glared at me then were definitely Blackie's. Jamilah drew her face closer and pressed her lips against mine and kissed them. I felt I could not breathe, as if she had sucked my very soul out. I tried to free myself but Jamilah seemed to have drained my whole body of energy and I found no strength to move at all. Then slowly she rose, glaring at me with spite in her eyes. She kissed me on the lips again and this time I felt I was going to die. But with all the strength that was left in me, I managed to push Jamilah off my chest and screamed for help as loudly as I could. That brought the chauffeur and the gardener sprinting into the room.
'What happened, Sir? A burglar? Want us to call the police?' they asked. 'Nothing happened, He's just had a bad dream. Don't worry. Go back to bed,' Jamilah replied calmly. When they left, I got up and snatched Jamilah's hand. I had another shock, for there on her wrist was the same leather collar that used to hang around Balckie's neck. 'Look at this... it's Blackie's leather collar. You've turned into that cat, Milah,' I screamed. 'No! I found this in your cupboard and I put it on simply because its lovely. This isn't Blackie's collar. It's a bangle,' replied Jamilah. 'Take it off, now. But no I guess you won't be able to take it off before turning into Blackie,' I snarled, and immediately jumped at her and went for her throat. I went into a fit of laughter as Jamilah struggled violently like a hen being slaughtered. I strangled her with all my power, till she began to froth from her mouth.
But then the commotion brought the chauffeur and the gardener back to the room. The pulled us apart and bound my hands behind my back. They handed me over to the police. Days later I was taken to court for attempting to kill Jamilah. But the doctor who examined me told the judge he had found me mentally unsound. The judge decided I should be sent for treatment at a mental institution. I spent three years languishing in the hospital, even though I was as sane as any of you. Jamilah visited me at the hospital everyday. Eventually, she managed to persuade the doctor to discharge me, saying she wanted to take care of me herself. She claimed that life had been lonely ever since I was committed to the institution. though I had tried to kill her, I was still her husband and she still loved me. She insisted on looking after me and nursing me back to health. Seeing how earnest she was, the doctor let her take me home.
The following day, Jamilah came to the hospital to fetch me home to grandma's house. Well, before I lose my life in her hands, I want all of you to know the strange things that had happened to me. I... am going to die in Jamilah's hands. 'The day shall come when the malicious tastes retribution,' said Blackie that night when I killed her kitten. Jamilah shall now settle the score for Blackie. I wish all of you farewell...
'It's really a wierd story,' said Dr. Ismail to me. 'I found the diary under Jamil's bed after his wife left to take him home yesterday, You believe it? You think its true?' 'I'm not sure, really,' I replied. 'Let's pay him a visit,' said Dr. Ismail as he got up to leave. We made for his car. Ismail was the doctor who treated Jamil. A close friend of mine. We had been friends since our school days. Jamil lived far from town, about twenty miles away, at a remote location far from other houses. When we reached the place we found it deserted, very quiet, although the front door was open. We went in. 'That must be his bedroom,' whispered Dr. Ismail as he held my arm. He led the way there and peered inside.
Jamil was sprawled on the bed and on top of him stood a large, black cat. It had a leather collar around her neck. When it heard us, the cat turned around, its eyes shining, full of anger. We retreated, and instantly the cat sprang towards us. We jumped aside to avoid it, and the cat dashed out of the house and out of sight. Only then did we realize that Jamil was no longer alive. On his neck was a gaping wound, as if some sharp teeth had sunk into it. Blood was spilling onto the mattress. 'My God! Could it be possible? Could Jamil's story actually be true?' exclaimed Dr. Ismail.
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