The Sacrifice
The ground was still wet from the heavy rain that lashed last
night and the air reeked with earthy smell of decaying leaves. But, the
grey misty morning didn’t dull the village youth and the elders to
assemble at old Henry’s house. The time is eight in the evening, Henry’s 55 year old wife
Mercy has been missing for three hours, he last saw her just after dawn when
she woke up to relieve herself.
Without wasting much time the search party sharpen their tools
and arrange their gears. They wore long trousers with the bottom
tucked inside their camouflage boots, their head covered with a scarf
and their wind-cheater jacket perched over their shoulder to protect
them from the rain. As the group snake through the woods, the thick fog
that has draped the village and the woods made their visibility
difficult and they struggled through the slippery ground searching for
Mercy. They search for her in the fields, the woods, among thick bushes
and in the water, repeatedly calling out her name in intervals “Mercy”
“Mercy”.
Few hours later, the men return from their search and gathered
on the verandah. Looking anxious and worried they mumble among
themselves before stomping their wet muddied boots and slapping off
dirt from their pants as they enter Henry’s house to discuss their next
move. After the discussion, the village headman said with uncertainty
and little hope, “As agreed by everyone, I will go speak to Clara and
hopefully come back with some information.” He then quickly leaves to
meet Clara, the village psychic.
It is now quarter to two in the afternoon, the search party hurriedly rushes
towards the edge of the forest following the broken road which is
frequented only by cattle. Using their sickle and knife they make their
way through the overgrowth bushes to go further into the forest,
passing through the thick trees to reach the flat ridge of the mountain.
Upon reaching the ridge, the headman stood at the edge and said
pointing towards the bottom of the slope, “That’s the stream, Clara
told us to follow.” With a doubtful look the men inspected the terrain
and before proceeding further they decided to take a short break to
give rest to their tiring muscles. Stretching their legs they lie down
on the damp grass letting out a deep exhale, relishing their momentary
peace surrounded by overlapping misty mountains, very soon to be
overwhelmed by its mystery and the journey they have to undertake.
Suddenly, one of the man waves his hand and shouts at his team, “Come and see this.”
The shout broke their rest and they walk hastily towards the
clearing where the man was standing with one arm on his hip anxiously
studying the ground. In the middle of a remote wilderness they found
deep skid marks running riot on the wet ground, its impact creating
tiny puddles surrounded by trampled grass that haplessly hung to the
bare earth. Holding closely to their tools, they slowly walk towards
the slope following the skid marks. When they look down the steep they
found the thorn bushes completely flattened to the ground all the way
to the bottom. And they could still sense the faint smell of the
crushed leaves sluggishly floating in the air. Whichever wild beasts
has fought here had wrecked the ground and it appeared like both had
been dragged down with a mighty force after heavy wrestling.
Hoping to find a lead at the base they decided to trek
downhill. As they begin to descent the steep narrow and slippery path,
the gusty wind roar in their ears and slap their face sweeping them
off balance. The plants too violently sways as the wind pulled on their
roots, leaving the men to cling firmly to their sturdy staff and
continuing their descent only in between the winds. Besides the
unexpected time taken to trek the slope, it also left them puzzled and
worried to find that the trail of struggle has ended abruptly before
reaching the bottom, without any sign of its victim.
At the base, the search party spread out in different
direction and call out for her again, “Mercy” “Mercy” and after every
call they listen for a voice or a sign, but their call died along with
its echoes without an answer. Uncertain in this strange uninhabited
forest with a woman missing and an indication of an unknown wild beast
on the loose, they geared themselves with their knife, catapults and
sharp pointed sticks.
Later, the party regrouped and divided themselves into two team and
branches off on the opposite paths following the stream. With little
time in their hand before dusk settles over the mountain, they
intensify their search. With their boots crushing the grass and sinking
into the wet ground, they quicken their pace flip flopping on the
muddy water, searching for her in the bushes, in the water, above and
underneath, in every hidden places they could lay their sight on.
Then, in no time, the queer whimper of the forest and the
rumble of the flowing stream beneath their feet was ruptured by the
sound of a loud whistle.
The search party heading towards the south has found Mercy.
Her body was found with face down, lying beside the rocky stream
surrounded by tall grasses. Only her face was submerged in the water
and her grey hair floating like a white flame along with the clump of
green moss. Her old boots were muddied but still intact, her torn
petticoat covered her lower body till the knees and her sweater bore
several holes with snagged woolen threads loosely hanging.
While one of them repeatedly blew the whistle until the other
party were in sight, two men ran ahead and pulled her out from the
water. But when they turned her over, one of them shrieked in horror,
threw her down and ran away. The other person too fell on the ground
and froze. When the others saw her face, they too were horrified with
what they see. Her wide hazy blue eyes sharply gazed at then and with
her twisted neck, she maliciously grinned exposing her receding gums
with plague infested teeth ready to gnaw whoever touches her. Her face
froze with deep wrinkled grooves in her cheek and around her eyes. She
looked like a wretched witch with a menacing smirk on her face.
One of them quickly threw his scarf over her face and they
bundle her up with the sheet they had brought along. They cut down few
trees and built a makeshift wooden stretcher to carry her body back to
the village. The men took turns carrying the stretcher on their
shoulder as they cut through the treacherous mountain where the evening
sun rays forcefully penetrates through the dense foliage of trees. Its
sparkles disappearing between the leaves as the darkness rises from
the ground. The forest sounded different, their cold sweat trickles
down and braids with the raindrops on their face and neck. They doesn’t
know if the hot flush is from the pressure of the stretcher or from
their own fear and anguish. They could feel the malign force following
them like the shadow of an unseen animal sneaking in the dark waiting
to pounce on them. Wild animals terrorised them with screeches and
growls protesting the invasion on their territory. And as fear
envelopes them, the weight of the stretcher became heavier and heavier,
bruising their shoulder. But they didn’t stop walking even for a
moment, they carry on chanting prayers and calling out to the unknown
“Allow us to take our sister home. Please don’t obstruct our path.”
Around seven in the evening, they finally reached the village corridor. With a sense
of relief they blew their whistle one after the other. People ran out
from their house to receive them when they enter the village. Even the
dogs too greeted them with terrifying howl refusing to come close to
their path.
When they reach her home, Mercy’s body was put on her bed and
covered with the traditional red and black shawl. Fresh flowers, The
Bible and her huge bamboo mug with straw were kept beside her. Unable
to close her eyes, they tied a cloth to cover them but the smirk on her
face they couldn’t remove. Yasmin cries her grief at the loss of her
mother, Henry and his son too silently wept in the corner unable to
comprehend the nature of her dead.
The church choir lead by the choirmaster sang beautiful hymns,
to comfort the family and her soul as streams of friends and family
come to pay their final respect. After midnight, when the singing
died, the family went to sleep and the elders too went home to rest
leaving only the youths to give company to the dead.
The youths were happy to have left alone, now they could spend
quite time with their friends. Lovers holding hands in the dark,
admirers impressing each other and friends catching up on usual things.
Tonight, there were only few of them, others who were part of the
search party had gone home to rest for they would be needed to dig the
grave in the morning.
Around ten of them were in the kitchen preparing midnight snacks and
tea. In a corner a couple of boys dozes off leaning on the wall, whose
snores were calmed by the laughter of the girls. In the main house
which is few meters away from the kitchen, there were thirteen of them in the
room with the dead body. Without paying much attention to the dead
lying next to them, they were engrossed in their own conversations and
giggles.
So far, the night was peaceful and the monsoon has been kind. But as it
falls deeper, the boys and girls in the room slowly slumbers. Few
tried to stay awake drinking mugs of hot tea and for few, their love
conversations. All of a sudden, a foreboding wind blows through the
trees, shattering the deep peace with creaks and cracks of the tin roof
and fierce rustling of the leaves. With a shudder they rose from their
sleep and before they could grasp the clamor, there came a loud
scratching sound on the wooden walls, like an attack of an angry wild
animal scampering behind the walls and wrestling with the plants. They
looked at one other puzzled and afraid.
One of the boy said, “I guess it’s just the wind and the dogs must be playing outside.”
“Are you sure? Can you please go out and check?” a girl muttered.
Suppressing his fear he replied, “Yes. Sure.” and he left for the door alone.
After few seconds he came back relief, “I think the wind has stopped.
Relax, it will be fine now.” The girls were together in one place,
still confused and asking themselves who could have made such a
dreadful sound and why. Their sleep were gone and they sat wide awake
with an untold sense of fear. For a moment there was a calm, until a
violent rain of tiny stones on the tin roof smashes down like a
scattered glass. They yelp and leapt to their feet. This time it was not
the wind and not the rain either. It was a sharp noise piercing their
ear. And out of the darkness came a loud “THUD” on the floor. As they
scream in fright, heavy footstep in the verandah stomped the wooden
floor moving closer towards their room, the footsteps grew louder and
louder rattling the wood and the roof. It then stops abruptly at their
door. From the gap between the door and the floor they saw a huge
shadow standing, waiting for the door to be open. A dead silence looms
over the house, the wind has stopped – except for the wall clock that
hauntingly ticks. They hold on to each other tight, profusely crying
with their mouth covered so that their cries wont escape, then the
shadow turned around stomping the floor rattling the woods again, and
slowly disappears in the darkness. They fumbled with their rosary beads
shaking and muttering prayers through tears , “Our Father who art in
heaven, halo be thy name,” “Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with
you, Blessed are you……” . When the noise didn’t return, they ran
towards the door, stumbling and crawling through the small door to rush
outside.
The night was at its darkest with pitch silence when thirteen of them ran
outside to the kitchen frightening the others who sleepily lie besides
the hearth. Choking to their own tears they explain to their friends
their terrifying ordeal and for the rest of the night, they spent
huddling in the kitchen, leaving Mercy all alone in the room while the
rest of the family sleeps peacefully at her son’s house below the
garden.
When the dawn breaks, couple of boys went to meet the priest and the
rest went to wake up the others to start digging the grave. Funeral
service was held an hour early and at 9am, her body was taken to the
cemetery for burial. The priest recites the last rite and the final
song was sung as they lower the coffin into the grave. None breathe a
word of their disturbing night.
“Hi Clara”
“Who are you?”
“How could you not know when you have heard so much about me?”
“But what do you want from me?”
“You know, I had to take her out and I have to say, she was one hell of
a tough woman. You should have seen her face when I dragged her down
to the stream. Ha Ha Ha!!” he roars in laughter and from the black
smoke came out a man’s face gazing fiercely into Clara’s eyes. With his
fiery red eyes and gnarly teeth burning in flame he continues, “
Ahhhh!! And that’s how they found her.”
With an excited smirk he said, “You know what I want, I give you people
a week.” Laughing hysterically he confesses, “ I’m already having lot
of fun with you all.”
Clara woke up from a sharp shriek of a cat, “MEOWWWW”
“Who’s cat was that?” she jumped out of the bed screaming
Her frightened husband asked confusingly, “There is no cat. Why are you sweating?”
“I-I heard a cat shriek.” She stuttered
“Nightmare, huh??”
Clara tucked herself tightly in his arms and said, “Yes. Bad one.”
In the morning, Clara rush to see the village headman. She found him
sitting alone at his front yard pensively sipping his morning tea. She
quickly pick up her steps and walk towards him.
“Good morning Clara!!”
“Good morning” she replied nervously and took her seat next to him.
Staring blankly on the ground she said to him almost crying, “I saw him in my dream last night. He is back.”
His face went pale, his blurry eyes stifle the gloom as he slowly puts
down his teacup and laments, “I reckon my worst nightmare is here.” He
remembered his father telling him as a young boy, “Son, one day your
day shall come when you have to fight him, but don’t be afraid.” This
was 35 years ago, where twenty people died and half of the village livestock
were wiped out.
During the time of their forefathers, many years before Christianity
and civilization set foot in this place - they were fierce head
hunters. A ritual practice to show power and to demand respect and
fear among the neighboring villages. To achieve this height of
supremacy, their forefathers made a pact with the demon. In exchange of
victory and wealth, they had to sacrifice a beautiful virgin girl;
pure without any physical deformities and scars. But, when Christian
missionaries came to this remote area, they were successful in
converting the people, which led them to give up their violent practice
and thus, they stopped the sacrifice. Feeling betrayed, the demon
comes to haunt the village with a vengeance, destroying everything on
his way, misery and suffering accompanying his rage. Once in every
generation, it has been a ritual for the demon to show his dominance.
At the emergency village council meeting, the village headman announce,
“With a heavy heart I have to say, our old enemy is back and he has
given us just one week to fulfill his demand.”
The priest who was quietly listening from the beginning asked them,
“For how long are we going to give in to his demands?” He pleaded, “
Please I beg of you all, let us pray deeper, let us keep our fast and
hold mass prayers and have stronger faith in God.”
The others were not too happy with his suggestion, one of the elders
stood up and questioned the priest, “What if our prayers doesn’t work?
We have already lost sister Mercy, now who will be next and how many?
What about our livestock? Before you wake up in the morning all will be
dead. Everything we have and own will be gone”
Another man added, “Father, we carry with us the curse of the demon, we
can’t even flee from this place. You flee you die. Perhaps, if we stay
back and agree to his demand we might have a better chance to be
alive.”
So the next day, two young men set off travelling far across the
mountain, in search of the girl who would save their life and of the
villagers. They pose as travelers and visits the neighboring villages,
gathering information and hatching plans on how to abduct the right
person. On the third day, while walking through the woods to visit
another village, they came across a young, beautiful girl drawing water
from the pond. So charmed by her beauty, they decided to follow her.
Her trail led them to her village. It was late afternoon when they
entered her house asking for water and direction. Her family welcome
them courteously and offered them not just water but food too.
Satisfied with what they saw and heard of the girl, they bid the family
farewell. When night falls, they camped in the jungle not too far from
the pond where they first saw the girl. Before the sun rises, they
cleared their camp and hid among the trees; waiting for her. When they
saw her approaching, one of them walk up to her and started a friendly
conversation. In the meantime, the other boy came from behind and
stuffed her mouth with a thick cloth. She struggles hard to free from
their clutches but the boys were too strong for her and they tied both
her hands. They walked the whole day through the jungle avoiding the
usual road, and when they were near their village they forced her to
drink the water which was lace with sleeping pills. It was almost dark
when they reach the village. A group of village elders waits for them
in the makeshift tent, which was built to temporarily keep her to avoid
speculation before the ceremony.
That night, the sky was clear and the new moon dangle low and large
amid the sparkling stars. And in the stillness of the dark, a steady
flow of light lit up the river path to the cave. Carrying wooden
torches, old men and women from the village entered the cave and
circled at the elevated rock, where on top lies the sedated girl,
peacefully sleeping with her long dark hair resting comfortably on her
shoulder and her face glowing in the dim light. After a short meeting
the men left her with the women folks for the ritual bathing and
cleansing.
The women removed the white cloth covering and gently started
undressing her, she wore a long red and white skirt, a V-neck black
t-shirt and a wooden rosary bead necklace. There were five women who bathe
her. And, before the ritual of cleansing with perfumed oil, an old lady
took a torch in one hand to confirm the purity of the girl for one
last time.
The old lady signal the others to spread the girl’s legs, she inserted
her two fingers to examine her virginity and nodded with satisfaction.
She then went down her legs, scanned her skin, her toes and her bones.
She straightens her back, walk towards her upper body starting from her
long beautiful hair, she caress the hair, smell and ran her fingers
through them, all along admiring her smooth porcelain skin, her firm
breast with pink nipples rising and falling softly as she breathes.
“Tonight, will God be lucky or the demon?” she asked herself. She kept
the wooden torch besides the slate and moved away, making way for the
other women folks to start the cleansing.
As the women diligently rub the perfumed oil on her body, the girl let
out a very soft sigh. But the women were so caught up with their duty
they fail to notice the sigh and carry on with what they were doing.
As the sigh grew louder turning into a moan, the women looked at each
other waiting for someone to explain or assure what they were assuming
is wrong. The girl opened her eyes and tried to move her aching body –
moaning deeply. The women folk stopped what they were doing and for a
second stared at the girl with a surprise and nervous eyes. Before they
could understand what was happening, the girl clumsily jump to her
feet, naked and in shock, she cried, “Who are you?” “What am I doing
here?” A lady among them, tried to calm her by lending her the white
cloth “Here, cover yourself.” The girl grabbed the cloth and the wooden
torch and shouts at them, “Don’t you dare come close me,”
“We won’t hurt you,” a lady consoled her and tried to snatch the torch.
She swung the torch towards her and cried, “Who are you people?”
Hearing the cry, those people who were waiting outside rush in to ascertain what was happening.
Seeing the small crowd assembling around her, she swung the torch and
screams, “I’m going to kill you all, I’m going to kill myself.” “Oh
God, where am I?” and she broke into tears.
The old lady behind her gently said to her, “Please stop crying and listen to us. We won’t hurt you”
The girl didn’t listen to her and instead looked around for a place to escape.
The old lady stretched out her arms and continued, “My child, please calm down and give me your torch.”
Ignoring the old lady’s request, the frightened girl let out a wail, “My God, please help me!!”
The old lady pleaded again, “Stop crying and let me explain, you have to listen to me.”
Feeling hapless and without paying attention to the old lady’s plea, she attacked the women standing few steps from her.
Just then, the old lady came from behind and pinned her to the ground
and threw away the torch. The others joined her and took the girl to a
corner. The old lady grab the headman by his arm and said, “We need to
talk.”
“What happen?”
“Can’t you see what just happened?”
“Yes I did. She tried to run away.”
“Didn’t you notice the girl is deaf on one ear?”
“No, that can’t be possible. Please tell me, it isn’t true.” The
headman, covers his head with both his hands, a flush of despair mask
his face as tears rolls down his cheeks.
At the distance, the howling dogs took over the night, the priest
stumbled and spilled the Eucharistic wine over his white cloak, and the
girl’s miserable wail quietly died.
