Twenty-six

 

Under the starless sky, the steeples of the feared castle reached for the sky like the gnarled fingers of a witch. In a large room upstairs, lit by the flickering light of a million glow-worms, a shrouded figure swathed in shadows stood by the window. He gazed at the village below, and played with the beads of the bracelet he wore around his wrist.

Many said that he had only one friend, the night.

But that was not true.

He had, in fact, two friends—the night and the starless sky.

No one really knew how old he was. Some said that he was as old as time itself. That he enjoyed eternal life, spoke in different languages, and took on different faces in different lands.

Very few had ever seen him face to face, and those who did, had never lived to tell the tale.

But word had indeed got around, in hushed whispers, that he had long and dirty finger nails, a pointed chin and crooked teeth. Some said that he was thin, almost emaciated, and yet full of evil energy. It was believed that he could move as quickly as the desert winds. His head was always covered with a hood, and his eyes shone in the dark.

It was also said that when he spoke, the words came gushing out from the deep recesses of his abdomen, gurgling and hissing. He had a serpentine tongue that travelled great distances, dripping poison-coated saliva. In his hand, word had it, he carried a magic stick, and perched on his shoulder was a one-eyed vulture. Dressed in black, he and the night consorted with the vampires and the wolves. He never slept and he knew neither rest nor death.

They said he was a double-headed serpent with a long tail that ended with the sting of the scorpion.

All this and much more were spoken of only in whispers.

Many also said that since no one really lived to tell the tale, the stories doing the rounds were grossly exaggerated. But there were others who believed in the stories and never uttered a word to anyone.

The shrouded figure turned from the window, his expression thoughtful. ‘She is finally here,’ he whispered to himself. His face was almost entirely hidden under a hood. What little could be seen was elderly.

Yet, it was an odd and horrible face.

Perhaps it was the eyes and their cold, cold stare.

Perhaps it was the double-forked tongue that flicked in and out from a mouth that looked more like an abyss.

Or, perhaps it was the evil stench that flowed out of his breath and filled the room.

His shadow detached itself from him and as it snaked up the wall with serpentine ease, it said, ‘I just came from the village where everyone is singing silly songs, and I must confess my performance as a crippled old man hobbling around with a staff was masterful!’

The shrouded figure said wryly to his shadow, ‘You did look like you were getting somewhat carried away by your performance.’

He did not wait for an answer but paced up and down the floor, looking preoccupied. He hissed, ‘All I have ever wanted is her. She was never meant to be my brother’s child, nor her mother, my brother’s wife. Both deserved better and both deserved me! Now, as it was foretold, the little girl is here. She will see my charms. She will resist in the beginning and then, she will come home to me. With her by my side, I will become invincible. Let her mother grieve that she chose to wed my brother and not me!’

In the village below, the innumerable candles the villagers had lit shone like a thousand constellations. He frowned as he heard songs of joy.

‘Show us the girl child!’ he snapped as he touched the window with his finger.

In an instant, the enormous window was transformed into a blur of dazzling colours as myriad swirling images zoomed in and out at a speed that seemed to be faster than thought itself. The village raced towards the window and was replaced by life-size images of the villagers, which filled the window for a fraction of a second. The images then vanished as others took their place. Zooming from one cluster of villagers to another, the blur of colours hurtled down alleyways, zipping from one house to another, till it finally settled outside Old’s house. Then, it went through the doors and walls as if they simply did not exist, past the living and dining rooms and straight into the bedroom where Little Girl lay sleeping. There it paused, zoomed in on the girl child, focussed and then, it filled the entire window with her image and that of her companions. Balloon lay neatly folded beside the bicycle pump. Crow slept perched precariously on a bedstand. His laboured breathing resonated stereophonically within the castle walls.

‘Just as I thought,’ the shrouded figure smirked. ‘Looks like her mother!’ He turned and whispered to his shadow, ‘As you must have heard, that is the little girl who is going to kill us.’ As an afterthought, he added, ‘Or so indeed, the village fable goes.’

‘That thing,’ muttered his shadow, suppressing a yawn and contemptuously pointing to the image of Little Girl with his tail, ‘is our nemesis? Accompanied by a sleeping bag and a snoring crow! Eeeeewwwew, see how I tremble in fear!’ It gave an exaggerated shudder and slithered close to the window. ‘I just love a bit of drama! Heightens the tension!’

‘You have much to learn, my pet,’ the shrouded figure said softly. ‘Never ever underestimate children! Look how young she is and uncorrupted. Beware of innocence, for it can be unpredictable.’

‘This is all make-belief and false,’ his shadow sniggered. ‘She will succumb. They all do. Some sooner, some later.’

‘This one could prove difficult,’ said the shrouded figure. ‘She is her mother’s child.’

‘If that is so, Master,’ said his shadow, ‘invite her over and let us get it over and done with.’

‘Such faith!’ the shrouded figure said as he patted his shadow indulgently on the head. ‘What would I ever do without you?’

‘What is so special about this one?’ asked his shadow.

The shrouded figure paused at the window. ‘I knew her parents,’ he said, ‘and I killed them both. She has come to kill me because she swore to avenge their death. But I will corrupt her soul, and we will embrace the earth with evil so deep and profound that there will only be unimaginable suffering, and a desperate longing for death, so that the pain might finally stop. But the pain will be eternal.’ He paused, ‘The key lies in corrupting the little girl, the so-called Awaited One.’

‘And what if she refuses?’ asked his shadow.

The shrouded figure frowned and a forked tongue slithered out. He seemed unsure, as he nervously played with the beads of his bracelet. ‘Then, I will just have to kill her,’ he said softly, ‘just as I killed her stupid parents.’

Silence followed and then, his shadow purred like a cat and rubbed himself against his master’s leg. ‘If you promise me the bag and the bird,’ he said smugly, ‘I promise you the girl’s head on a platter!’

The shrouded figure heard the words and froze for a second and then, with lightning speed, a vicious claw whipped from underneath the shroud and seized his shadow in a deathly grip. A horrifying transformation of the shrouded figure had begun by then. The eyes had narrowed and grown sinister. The breath came in hisses. Two enormous snake hoods grew from where there once was a face. Enormous serpentine forked tongues flicked in and out.

‘Fo…for...forgive me, Ma…Mas…Master,’ his shadow stammered, trembling with fear.

The shrouded figure stared into the eyes of his shadow and softly said, ‘I don’t want her head, you fool. Harm her and I will rip your throat out.’

He kicked his shadow aside. It quickly slithered into the dark corner and lay there, whimpering.

Absent-mindedly, the shrouded figure played with the beads of his bracelet. ‘Call my consorts,’ he whispered hoarsely, wiping the saliva from his fangs with his sleeve, ‘tell them, the game has begun. The beads,’ The Serpent added, ‘tell them to remember the sacred beads!’

Happy to be of service, his shadow leapt joyfully to the window and flung it open and hissed into the night, ‘Come quick! The beads beckon!’

The shrouded figure turned to the window and his fingers traced the outline of Little Girl’s image. ‘When you are mine,’ he said, ‘this story will finally end in shadows and in darkness, as the days will turn into one eternal night of the starless sky, and the jasmine will be condemned to being without scent!’ Then he bent forward and kissed the image of the girl child on the window with his flickering serpentine tongues, and let them linger on her face and her long neck and slithered all over her body.

‘Feel the longing, O Awaited One,’ whispered the shrouded figure. ‘Come into my embrace, and learn evil as you have never known. Drown in its generosity!’

Little Girl shuddered in her sleep. She felt cold and unclean. Her legs twitched with a new kind of sensation. She covered herself and clutched the scentless jasmine flowers tightly. ‘What a strange dream this is?’ she told herself. Then, she once again drifted off to sleep.

‘This is just the beginning,’ said the hunched up shrouded figure, ‘and you will grow to long for more, for it will make you whole.’ Then, he hissed, in laughter.