It was the round moon glistening the vicinity with the febrile festive vibes of the full-moon’s festival. I was taken to a community organised festival which our family visited per annum. The candle wax and a hint of petrichor panged the air, filled in by the cheery atmosphere. My heart was pounding with excitement despite of having to come here once a year. It felt just like yesterday, the experience, the fun, the quality family time that we had once every year.
The moon was at a slight outlandish tone tonight, tinging the skies full of stars with an uncanny, yet sinister undertone, as if the feeling was life-threatening. It was brief. Once we settled down at a spot to have tea, to play with lanterns, candles, eating mooncake. I picked out the salted egg yolk at the center of the mooncake, and ate it with a quarter of the mooncake, frolicking around with my lantern with the kids at the area.
Ordinary, banal. Photo time! We gathered around, asked someone to take a picture for us. It was a frail old lady, hunched, saggy with time, hinting a premonition of a misfortune. She remembered me of my deceased grandmother. Nonetheless, I posed. Three, two, one… FLASH! I blinked, squinted my eyes. Everyone disappeared around me. The old lady was still holding the camera at her hands, noticing it was one of those vintage cameras with a large flashy thing attached to it.
My mind could not react as fast, FLASH! The blinding sight hit me once more. I rubbed my eyes for clarification, everyone around me was suspended in thin air, with each of their throats slit cleanly across, like a surgeon’s work. I was terrified, shaken, as the shock impulses were sent to my neural network for a response. The old lady was still standing in front of me, smirking, ill-omened, spellbound for an impending peril, at least it would be a quick one.
FLASH! The old lady was flitting across the space like a flash, sending one by one into the air, with their necks slitted. My mind was bamboozled, shunned by the twisting of spacetime. I was witnessing the process of the mass-murder right after the graveyard conjured in front of me. Seizing the moment, I attempted to move, but time was slowed down a fraction of a second felt to heavy to even move a limb.
The old lady came into my view in a heartbeat, a slowed-down motion of a thump, she wield her bloody crimson knife, glistening diabolical by the moonlight, shoving it across my throat, deftly, leaving no sign of regret, but a deluge of malicious intent. I was bleeding slowly, but not dead, the pain was excruciating, I felt my throat was teared opened violently like a kid terrorising the wrapping of a present.
Time stopped. FLASH! I was standing again in front of the old lady with the camera. FLASH! My throat was slitted, the pain was agonising. FLASH! FLASH! FLASH! The unending pain and torment sealed my life in an endless loop of pain and misery, knowing the situation, but powerless to stop, or to even prevent it.