The Visitor

Andy watches the sight of that denim jacket move further down the street while absent-
mindedly petting his parrot. It hasn’t made a sound since his neighbor Travers set foot in here.
He thinks back on their encounter, the look of his neighbor waiting outside his door in the dark,
Andy’s parcel (which Travers claimed accidentally delivered to his place) in hand. His silhouette
seemed swallowed up by the night sky. Andy could barely distinguish where the man ended and
the darkness began. Just like right now, even with the street lamp illuminating the figure, Andy
almost missed him suddenly turning around and waving at him. He waves back out of reflex. The
action startles the bird, whose wings are now flapping loudly. It cost two seconds of his
attention, but when he turned back, Travers was gone.
He gently calms the bird down with a soothing touch, which he remembers is not far
from what Travers did 15 minutes ago. Yes, of course he invited his neighbor in. Despite
enjoying his peaceful months ever since he graduated and left campus, he’s not some ill-
mannered brute. They shared a beer right on this kitchen counter. Before Andy even got the
bottles from the fridge, the guy was already showing a great interest in his feathered friend. He
leaned into the steel birdcage, perhaps a bit too close for the parrot’s liking because it almost
froze upon the act. His facial features became visible under the faint glow of the kitchen lamp.
Andy took note of them for the first time since he invited the man in—the sharp edge of his jaw
and the soft surface of his cheeks, a pair of dark eyes, and a gloomy five o’clock shadow from
the light.
In small towns like this, it’s not rare for a courier to leave the package to another person,
present at the address at the time of the delivery and willing to accept it. The person, in this case,
was his good-hearted neighbor who happened to be passing by that afternoon. Therefore, came
the situation of Johnny Travers, whom Andy was only acquainted with, standing outside of his
house when he opened the door. “Your parcel?” Andy remembered his vibrant tone, not really as
a question, but more of a statement. Everything that happened next all seemed natural to some
extent. He made a brief introduction upon setting the cardboard box on the wooden table. And
they shook hands like proper adults.
The guy seemed genuinely polite throughout their interaction, but for some reason, Andy
got the heebie-jeebies from various little places. The way he asked for something to drink
seemed a little too forward. The corner of his mouth lifted up unnaturally when he saw his pet
parrot. The lengthy speech he gave about his lovely pets that ended up passing away was
somewhat… uncanny. While rinsing the beer bottles under the faucet, Andy ponders whether
he’s only so jumpy and twitchy because of his unusual past. He thinks back on the moment when
they bid each other farewell. Travers tried to pull him into a hug and sensed a full-body flinch
from him. He then proceed to stand there watching Andy having a mental freak-out for a good
minute with quite an entertained smirk on his mostly stoic expression.
 He pads his hands dry on the towel and walks towards the entrance to grab his parcel. It
is then he notices the address on the box. His heart skips a beat. It was indeed his address,
emphasis on the “was.” Andy had moved almost 300 miles away to a new place where he
technically didn’t share the neighborhood with his said “neighbor” for months. Questions keep
popping into his brain, every bone in his body, every cell, and every nerve ending whispering at
him that something doesn’t quite feel right. He hastily makes a call to his sister, who he shared
the old flat with.

“Slow down. What do you mean if I’ve told someone where you moved to?” She sounds
a bit distracted.
“Specifically a dude named Johnny Travers. He was our neighbor, remember? 5’11, dark
hair…”
After a short period of silence, among some honking in the background, comes
Meredith’s small voice “What about… Why him in particular?”
“Because he was in my place? He claimed to be my neighbor and had my package. I
didn’t think about it too much… Why are you talking like that?” He feels a chill at the bottom of
his stomach and some tingling senses at the end of his fingers.
He hears her roll up the window and all the noises are now cut off. She starts to talk, but
they somehow don’t make a lot of sense to Andy. Or maybe they do. He can’t be sure. He’s only
able to make out words like “record”, “fugitive”, “hair”, “scrapbook”, etc.
“How come… this is the first time- I hear about this…?” He puts most of his weight
against the wall and shuts his eyes.
“What do you mea- You know why. You moved out, and I didn’t think it was necessary
to tell you we used to live next to a predator.”
Predator. Andy frowns. The back of his head starts throbbing.

I need to get out of here. He must’ve said it out loud.

“No, what you do is call the cops. Do you hear me, An-”
Andy hangs up the phone before his sister can finish the sentence. He starts rummaging
through his belongings. A duffle bag is tossed on the bed and quickly filled up with various
items. He knows he should notify the police first. Notify them that a possibly wanted criminal
was physically in his house half an hour ago. But he can’t bring himself to do it right now. There
is a siren blaring in his head. A voice screams that this place is no longer safe. His safe space has
been contaminated. He needs to leave.
 Clothes, wallet, pills, …parrot.
His stomach does a small flip at the thought of the visitor touching his pet earlier.
I promise I’ll give you a proper bath later.

With the cage in his hand and the bag on his shoulder, Andy walks to the entrance and
reaches for the doorknob. Then the idea struck him. It creeps into his mind: What if he’s
somewhere out there?
He pauses. Of course, he’s somewhere out there. He just left. But somewhere close? The
outdoors suddenly doesn’t seem so appealing now. It is possible that Travers didn’t go far at all.
He might be hiding right around the corner, like a lion in the bushes waiting for its prey. Plus,
it’s about two hours to midnight. Not many people would be wandering in the neighborhood at
this hour to notice, should anything happen.
He could be just outside the door.
This intrusive thought cuts into Andy’s stream of actions with a sound like a screeching
tire. The mental image of him standing right next to the door right now knocks the wind out of
him. He lets go of the doorknob as if being scorched by it, backs off, tripped over something, and
falls.
Damn carpet ripple.
Landing on his back, the cage slips out of his hand and makes contact with the carpet
next to him, causing a low thud. Besides a faint ringing in his ears, he hears the bird flapping its
wings like crazy, trying to find somewhere to stand in a space now lying horizontally. The chain
on its leg knocks on the steel wire non-stop.

Andy rolls to the side in an attempt to push himself up. The piece of carpet under his
fingers is drenched in water and sprinkled with bird seeds. He feels nauseated. His breath
labored. The furniture around him seems to stretch higher and higher. The wet carpet next to his
face suddenly smells like alcohol, the bird seeds cigarette ashes. He knows well he’s going to
have an episode. The sharp clanks of the metal burn in his ears. His own ankles ache and seem to
be tied down by a ton of weight. Moisture permeates the air around him. Everything is enlarging,
closing in. He shuts his eyes off and slowly sits up against the wall.
From his right, comes the sound of a couch squeaking. Footsteps get closer and closer.
Knees crackle next to him as if someone squatted down. A palm makes contact with the back of
his neck. The phantom warmth radiates from that direction. I must get out of here. Andy
struggles to shake off the overlapping experiences but blacks out eventually.
 He’s in that room again. He knows despite there being barely any decorations and
furniture. Every time he came back to this room, a couple more things went missing. Besides a
door, a candle, an iron pillar, and some staircases, it’s almost empty now. The door is also what
gives away the authenticity since this is a basement and it doesn’t make sense to have one. He
hears the noise of television coming from the far end of the stairs and sucks in a large breath of
air. It’s time to get out of here.
After snuffing out the candle, He turns to open the door. It is then he feels a small hand
creep upon his wrist, the grip, tight yet icy as snow.
“Out of this door, there’re still thousands of them waiting.” The voice is so light, almost a
whisper.
He didn’t turn around. Only flips his hand to hold back on the smaller one, gentling
stroking. The palm feels so smooth covered in layers of dust, almost like rubbing chalk.
“I know. But we… I’ve come so far. I need to keep moving.”
The child takes in a breath of air and moves his legs hesitantly. The chains jangle loudly
in the empty room. Andy knows that under those feet, they’re as dusty as the hands.
“Don’t worry about me.” Andy gives the small hand a final clench as a goodbye, and lets
go of it altogether.
Stepping outside, the fog clears away.

Andy opens his eyes and blinks out some of the moisture. He finds himself lying on the
carpet sideways, back against the wall. It is still dark outside and the wet patch is still there by
the touch of it. He then sees the birdcage, the bottom of it to be exact, attached by a thumbprint-
sized rectangle box with a short wire sticking out of it. His heart skips a beat, but the anxiety
doesn’t come wrecking as expected. The image of Travers leaning on his kitchen island
resurfaces in this mind. Andy swallows a lump in his throat and reaches into his pocket for the
cell. He can almost feel the residual dust on his palm. Upon dialing 911, he cautiously pulls the
birdcage closer, opens the door, and unhooks the chain.