Once, he was a rag picker. Once, he was like them only. Now he was a street performer. There was no drastic change in his fortunes that would make others jealous. He was still a performer, but a respectable one. He was young, charming and good. That’s how he was known to all.
Magic had been prevalent in all cultures throughout the years, but so had been witchcraft. What the people didn’t know was that he was an occultist and knew the ways of the forbidden practice. He had sacrificed souls and their flesh to obtain what he wanted. Even I wouldn’t know what he wanted. I wonder if he did..
Every 16th night of the month he would venture out past the late hours. He wanted to keep his timing perfect. He had to be back before quarter past 3- the time of the demons. Every 17th of the month he had to hunt.
I couldn’t say whether he was a magician, an occultist or a witch. I couldn’t say what forbidden art he was practising. I couldn’t even say whether he was a he.
Tonight was the 16th. He was out again dressed like a rag picker. He was back to where he came from. He was back to where he rose from. Soon the night would end and the 17th day would start. He was waiting roaming about the streets hoping to lure someone out. There had been rather noticeable disappearances of strange kind in area. The inhabitants knew about it. He knew about it too. Business was brisk lately.He sat in one corner not to attract too much attention. He had hours before the limit, however he preferred finishing his job before time and returning home. He scanned the street he decided to attack tonight. The street was full of stench of human faeces and rotting garbage. Yet he sat in one corner and scanned the area. There wasn’t too much activity, but it didn’t harm to be extra careful. An hour passed and activity subsided. No sign of any child yet. He had to go robbing tonight..maybe. It was going to be a tough task. He was desperate and he wanted a boy. His needs had to be met. He had waited and worked long for it.16 months and 16 boys.
17th month and 1 more boy was all he needed. It was the 17th month and the 17th day.
He waited more. It was nearing 3. He had to be back before 3 to perform his ceremony at the perfect time. With no one in sight, he panicked and decided to change his location. He thought too much though usually he did not. It had been so easy all this while. Every night he was in a different neighbourhood, but tonight it had to be this area only for this was where it all started from. He took out his pocket watch and checked. If he missed tonight, he would have to repeat the entire ceremony. No, he didn’t have that much time. No, he couldn’t afford it. I am certain he couldn't.
He looked again in hope. He got lucky. From the corner of the street, he saw 2 young boys turning into the street. It was not abnormal. Kids from the street had a simple life style. No comfort, no food, and no sleep. Wherever they lay their head was their home. Yet they had the luxury to venture out late in the night. No one asked, no one stopped, and no one cared. But he did.He wanted only one. The 2 boys hugged each other as a sign of parting and exchanged a light conversation, and went in opposite directions. This was his chance. He had to do it. He rose calmly and walked to the boy. The boy noticed him, smiled at him and approached him.
Tonight life met its mangled fate.
"come! boy, i shall show you magic.
be sure it is no parlour trick or word of wit..
nothing hidden in the sleave.."
singing this rhyme, the man approached the kid and bent down..
the kid uttered something. The man resumed his rhyme.
"come! come! i shall show you magic.
be sure it is no parlour trick or word of wit.."
the kid uttered again, but this time it was more pronounced.
The man was perturbed for once he tried to make sense of what the boy was saying. Nevertheless, he had to ignore whatever the boy said for he was late already. He had to finish what he intended to.
The boy’s tone got louder. It was loud enough to drown the man’s voice. The man started his verses now and took out a 3 inch nail and sang again..he continued with his verses. Suddenly the boy got really loud and stopped. The man was taken aback. There were moments of silence. The boy lifted his head. His face shone unlike the man whose face was hidden in the druids.
I spoke, “I seek refuge with the Lord of the Dawn From the mischief of created things; From the mischief of Darkness as it overspreads; From the mischief of those who practise secret arts; And from the mischief of the envious one as he practises envy.”
In less than a moment, I thrust a nail into the man's ear..he barely had a moment to react as if he were struck by lightning. caught in a state of shock, pain and confusion, he pressed his hand against his ear while blood oozed out it. he could barely maintain his balance and collapsed on the ground, wriggling like a fish without water. the ground was a pool of blood..
I smiled and beamed with pleasure.
I sang, "nothing hidden in the sleeve.
no magic, no parlour trick or word of wit.."
I took the nail out of his ear, gradually camouflaged myself with the darkness and repeatedly hummed his rhyme. It was 3:15 already. I had to return.
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