Ch. 9

For some minutes I was incapable of moving. The boy ignored any attempts I made to pacify him, but before long, a man I didn't know came to collect the boy. Apparently the boy was to be my guide to Mr. Garris's hut, but when the boy didn't return, the father became suspicious and started to search. When he saw his son's forehead, he made the sign of the cross in front of both of them, then wiped it away with his sleeve. Eventually the boy's sobs had faded into whimpers, permitting the man to tend to me. He asked if I was hurt in any way, and stretched my legs one at a time. It seemed to help. The blood began to flow through my body once more. It took some patience, but I was finally able to stand up and walk. With his son's hand in his, and his other hand gripping my arm, he lead both of us down a trail through the shrubbery, allowing us time for introductions.

He told me his name was Ferlo Dorik. The little boy was his youngest son out of two, and he had a wife who was waiting anxiously in the hut. He apologized for having to make the pit stop at his hut first, but on this day of all days, the whole village was in a frenzy to keep family at home. For some reason, I had forgotten that today was the actually day. The day of Gaurba. Today, one of the deceased was going to return, and someone was going to Hell. I shivered. The man felt it and gave me a sidelong glance, but I made nothing of it. In return, I told him my story and how I arrived in the village. I felt his grip tighten against my arm as I got to the part about the dying man's story of his grandson. Ferlo was definitely different than Mr. Garris. He had a certain composure about him that my host lacked, but something about his face was telling. Something was obviously not right about him. He perpetually looked as if he was crying without tears falling. A long, untamed mustache drooped from both sides of his upper lip, stretching down into a thin, lifeless fiber, much like the rest of his body.

As we approached what I guessed to be his hut, Ferlo whispered something to his son, who then raced to the woman pacing back and forth in front of the hut's opening. The man yelled to his wife that he was going to show me a horse for business purposes, which caught me by surprise. She didn't say anything. She stared at me and her husband silently with an unreadable expression. We walked for some time before we entered a wooded area. Ferlo said nothing the whole way until we came across a circle of seven tree stumps positioned around a fire pit. He beckoned me to sit on one of them to rest my legs. I was grateful as they were starting to falter from the moment we entered the woods. Ferlo sat on the stump across from me, leaned forward with his forearm on his leg, pulled out a smoke, and lit it. I wasn't expecting that at all. The red-orange embers at the end of the cigarette startled me for no reason in particular, but the way the smoke curled was unnatural. It made perfect swirls and formed a cloud just over his head. Ferlo must have become aware of the cloud after looking at my expression. He waved his hand over his head, saying in a snide way how he hates when that happens, then dropped the cigarette on the ground before grinding it into the earth with his bare heel. Nobody in this village seemed to wear shoes.

I was afraid for the life of me that this man was one of those creatures in disguise, so I tried to act a bit more casual, but I failed miserably. I trembled. Words refused to come out of my mouth. Tears ran down my cheeks. My condition wasn't improved by Ferlo's soft cursing as he realized I knew something was wrong. “Well, I brought you out here to tell you anyway. No point in beating around the bush.” With that said, he inhaled whatever was caught between his throat and nose, then spat it out by his foot. A lump of green and yellow mucus jiggled next to his toes. “I'm not going to pretend that I'm normal, and by normal I mean human.” He pulled himself up so that both his hands rested on his knees and his arms fully extended though his shoulders were hunched. “Look, I've chosen to talk to you because you're obviously not born of this village. Why you came here is a mystery to me. Not even a man with a death wish would come here. Death is far more pleasant than what our people go through. I used to be a God-fearing man. Now I fear nothing. Once you've been to Hell, there's nothing left to fear.” I couldn't look at his face anymore. He had stretched his neck back to reveal the mark of the gara. It had eaten into his skin.

“You wouldn't believe what kind of selfish things people will do. It's no wonder the devil feeds on us because we're so capable of evil ourselves.” Ferlo's eyes swelled up with tears. He coughed up another glob of mucus, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, slammed his fist down on his leg, and looked away from me. He resumed with his story, but his voice was cracked. “I had two sons. I told you that Milo was my youngest, but I had an older one, too. My wife was never too close to him because he wasn't her's. My first wife died during child birth and I used to pray to God that He would take her. He must have. I never saw her in Hell.” He chuckled quietly. “But me. What happened to me? That's something I ask myself everyday. What was it that made me think the way I did?” He laughed again, only this time it was a bit more wild. He ground his teeth together, making an awful noise of bone grating against bone. “I met my new wife. She's beautiful isn't she?” His eyes shot a look as if daring me to answer. “She's too beautiful. That's the problem. I was jealous of any man who looked her way. I used to beat her.” He threw his head back and chortled while slapping his knee. “Funny, isn't it? I could beat her to a pulp, and she'd come back for more. She loved me to death.” His last word was said rather loudly, and as he said it, he abruptly stood up. In a fit of anger, he kicked over the stump he had been sitting on. His back was to me as he continued his story in between sobs. “I had an accident. Drowned. The strong current. The devil smiled at me as he placed it around my neck. Itchy.” His hands clawed at his neck, scratching it until it began to bleed. This went on for some minutes during which I was too scared to move. I watched the dead man cut into his throat with his nails until he yelled out in agony and dropped to his knees. The poor, tortured soul held out his hands before him with blood dripping from his gnarled fingers. I had never heard cries of sorrow so genuine that my chest tightened with sympathy for their victim. At length, he quieted down into hushed whispers. His voice was now raw and harsh.

“I came back. I had faith that God would protect my family from the devil's games. When I knocked at the door, my wife collapsed from both joy and pain. She became hysterical and began kissing me even though I smelled of dirt. Before I could say anything to her, she ran back into the hut, dragging my oldest son out by the wrist. He was so scared of me.” Another paused filled the air with silence. Ferlo bowed his head, then slowly turned it towards me. It was hard to look at him as his neck was completely destroyed and smeared with blood, but I had to. He was looking for something that I couldn't provide, but by looking at him, I offered him an escape from the village. He wouldn't die without his story being known.

“My wife saw me as I used to be when I was living. My son saw me as a skeleton with worms crawling through my eyes. I could see what both of them saw. She threw him down at my feet, screaming at me to take him. I didn't--” Choking noises overwhelmed him, but he was determined to get his story out. “I didn't want to. So scared--” Anything else he said was incomprehensible. Despite my own fear of the man, I raced across and grabbed his bloody hands. He used to be a man, after all. He used to be a father. I tried to comfort him by telling him he did nothing wrong, even though I didn't truly mean it. He could read the insincerity in my eyes and pulled his hands from mind. There was nothing I could do for the man. His body was convulsing upon the ground. Blood was mingling with dirt. His eyes were wide open and terrified. He was lost. And so was I. 


© Mikal Minarich