THE GHOST IN AFRICA

A ONE EYED VILLAIN

Jakob gritted his teeth as he let his mind wander. For over a century he had waited for this very day, patiently bidding his time and doing the needful dirty jobs that needed to be done. He adjusted his weight to his longer left leg. After a tussle with one of the parents that had been taken by the house, he had seriously injured his knee.

Right from the very day the soldier, Captain Abdul had offered to rent the apartment he had smelled trouble. But it was not until after the man’s two children had been taken by the house that the man had indeed become troublesome. 

When the man’s first son had been taken, he had returned to the house six hours later hoping to find everyone finally zombie-ing about in the house. Instead, he meets the Captain in tears. Somehow his inbred stubbornness had attracted the woman in the darkness to him.

Jakob wasn’t exactly sure how the woman had found way to possess him, but the fight had lasted for nearly an hour. Master had warned him to expect resistance from the woman whenever there was need for an evacuation. The fact that the house had taken a child simply meant that the woman was at peak power at those times.

“Master” he had asked right after they had trapped the woman in the forest back then.

“Jakob” Master had called him, pronouncing his name as Yakoob instead of jaycob as everyone else would.

“We have the woman now, what more do we need to do”

The master had smiled, the first time he had ever seen him smile while wearing his cassock.

“Now we work” he had said eventually.

They had set out to make a curse box from hardwood. The ghost of the woman they had trapped was far more powerful than anything else they had trapped. If they were to let her remain on the copper wire, eventually she would find a way to burn herself free and seek them out in revenge. All hitchhiking demons were vengeful he remembered being told.

The curse box was a perfect cube. After the necessary symbols were etched on the wood, the master had unwound the copper wire from the thorn stave and had placed it inside the box, shutting it. This would ensure that the woman =n would never leave. Jakob remembered the delight when the master had entrusted the box to his care.

“Bury it in the temple. If anything were to happen to it, all would be lost”

Jakob had nodded sheepishly, hiding the urge to smile with glee.

Eventually, he had buried the box after the master had performed yet another spell on the ox, this time to keep it from rotting. The journey had only just begun and he was prepared for any eventuality.

“The box would keep the ghost in the house” Master had told them. “The ghost, already angry and vengeful towards her thirteen year old children would have no choice but to harvest the essence of every child that turns thirteen in the house.”

They had all nodded; taking in the Master’s every word with a generous gulp of saliva.

“When the harvest is complete, then we would return. For now, we must wait. Dawn approaches”

Jakob shifted his weight again, drawing himself back to the present. He shoved his hand unconsciously into his pocket, seeking his cigar. It wasn’t there. He dipped his other hand into his other [pocket, feeling it first for the cigar. It wasn’t there as well. He experienced a mild panic.

He removed the dark sunglasses from his eyes and pulled out the pocked, peering into it with his remaining one eye. It was completely empty.

“Looking for something Boss?” someone called out.

He didn’t bother turning.

“Nothing. Get inside.”

Whoever it was did not move from where he stood. Jakob could feel the person’s eyes plastered on his body even at that very moment. He made to scold but checked himself and kept quiet. Silence is the tool. Speaking too many words only made a man empty.

“Sir, I had removed a cigar room your pocket this morning when I ironed your trousers.”

Jakob stilled like he had just heard a blasphemy.

“You touched my clothes?”

“I realized you loved your suits and I decided to help you iron it before you were done bathing.”

Jakob waltzed over to the bar close to the dining and peeked at his reflection in the glass. Black suit, black Turkish shirt and black trousers. His white clerical collar fit perfectly on his neck.

“You touched my suit?” he said thorough clenched teeth as he turned to face the defaulter for the first time. The guilty party was a young boy of about fifteen. His black trousers were clearly two sizes bigger than him, yet his tucked in white shirt was slim fitted to hug his tiny leg slightly. The rag in his hand indicated that he was cleaning something somewhere in the house.

“Sir, I just wanted to…”

Jakob raised his finger. Excuses, the only thing he hated more than apologies.

“Come “Jakob commanded quietly.

“Please Sir! Please Sir! I'd never do it again. I swear on my mother’s life Sir.” The boy begged, already throwing himself on his knees and begging profusely.

Apologies. Burgh!

Jakob knew that warnings were meant for cowards who were too afraid or biased to uphold the truth. The constant pleas were only making him even madder than he was originally. He reached into his suit, reaching for is weapon of choice. There was only one kind of mercy fitting for anyone who behaves badly.

Jakob signaled the boy to come closer. He still remembered when they gave birth to this one. His father had been in his service here in this same building when he had been born. Sadly, he wasn’t going to live as long as his father had. Such a pity.

The boy hurried to the feet of his master, begin and hoping to be spared.

“Nobody told me you didn’t like anyone touching your cigars.”

Jakob shook his head. This little one still felt the real offence he had committed was removing the cigarette. Jakob would have corrected him; telling him that nobody was permitted to touch his suits, ever! His suits were as sacred as the very house in which he lived. The only building that held more respect than the one he now lived in was the temple.

The boy was at his feet now, face down, begging”

Jakob felt like throwing up. Why can’t humans realize the folly in begging another human that was just as they were; flesh, blood and bone? Right from ages ago, the strategy of begging had only done one thing to the human society. It had elevated those who had a certain perceived power further up the power chain and the known beggars remain beggarly and always see for favors hat they could easily create and upset the balance.

He shook his feet, causing the boy to look up. Luckily, the feel the boy held while begging was his better foot. Had it been the other foot, he would have had his revenge already.

The boy now looked up as he shook his feet, his face was already filled with tears as he begged and begged still.

Jakob already knew what was to be done. He signaled the boy to stand up with his index finger. The boy complied. His expression was obviously expectant. He was to be pardoned. But then life doesn’t work that way.

In one swift motion, Jakob produced the blade had kept hidden away in his suit swinging it in one clean move. The blade connected perfectly with the boy’s throat, causing warm blood to splutter from it. Jakob watched as he clutched his neck trying in vain to stop the flow of the blood.

Jakob couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful spectacle in front of him. He tasted the blood on the blade.

“Perfect” he said to himself, his voice more of a growl than that of a man. The look on his face was peaceful. The blade was beautiful too, curved like a sickle with strange markings and holes all over it.

He struck at the boy’s neck again, this time completely severing his neck from off his shoulders. He then watched as the head rolled on the floor before coming to a stop a few feet from where he stood, eyes open in death.

The Nemean blade had been his Master’s most prized possession. Whoever is killed with the Nemean blade would lose the remainder of his life to the person that killed him. Every other essence of life he had left would be trapped by the knife to b e used only for special mystical rituals.

As the Master had said top them, “what better ritual to use the Nemean blade than one that would affect the entirety of mankind just before dawn?”

He replaced his blade. The night was going to be a very long one.