“Purah!”
I don't know what brought me to burst forth with the confounded monster's word, but I yelled it out above the two arguing men. My mind had been rewinding at an exceptional speed, and when I came across the moment the creature had shouted that, it was like the monster had used my throat to proclaim the word to the village men. The result was utter silence. All eyes were on me again, but not one of them were intimidating. They were all horrified, with some covering their mouths and others with lower jaws unhinged. I had no idea what I had just said, but apparently the men did. Even Mr. Garris had closed his eyes and tilted his head back. I instantly regretted my outburst. The thought of burning at the stake overtook my memory of the morning.
“Hell hath come.” With the most pathetic, dejected look I have ever seen, the man who had been talking to me sat upon a tree stump, then covered his face in his hands. The rest of the group decided to take their seats as well. Mr. Garris shuffled across the ring of stumps to secure the one nearest to me. He grabbed my arm as if I needed the support but said nothing. Only the man who seemed to be the leader spoke again, “Do you know what this means, stranger?”
“Not in the least.” My words were true, although his face held some skepticism in it.
“Purah? Purah is not the devil.” He tossed his hand carelessly in the air while shaking his head. “Purah is only a demon.” There was a definite hint of sarcasm as he dragged out the word 'only'. “Let me make this easier for you to understand, my friend. The way you have described it to us implies that there were two of these devils, but Purah is a demon, which means the other 'creature' as you put it, must be another demon. Purah must have come to claim rights over our village. And as it sounds, it has.”
My confusion was clearly displayed on my face. I felt weak and tired. The explanation the man was giving was much too heavy for me to take in, so I let my eyes wonder around the circle of gentleman until I spotted a vacant stump to the left of Mr. Garris. I thought my legs could use a rest before they collapsed all together, and the stump would allow me the company of my host, but as soon as I made to sit, the leader of the group verbally forbade that I sit there. Mr Garris, with a genuinely friendly voice that took me by surprise, told me that the stump belonged to the late Ferlo, who's corpse was still lying for all to see. The fact that I had forgotten about him when his body was lying in view made me dry heave. Feeling even more fragile, I flopped on the ground beside Mr. Garris's tree-trunk legs. A particular feeling rebelled for its freedom from within my depths, and out came a foreign voice demanding the leader to tell me what was going on.
“We are being haunted by demons. Is that not obvious?” His tone was dismissive. My anger rose rapidly. I had no control.
“I said tell me what's going on. Right now. I am the next to experience your village's wicked game. The demon wasn't speaking to the boy. He was speaking to me. The boy only heard it talk. Now if I am going to be the recipient of this harbinger of death, then I want to know this instant what is going to happen to me.” I tried my best to muffle the ferocity in my voice, but all I could manage was a volume just above a whisper. All that my efforts accomplished was something that sounded like a madman on the verge of a violent attack. There was more alarm in the man's face after hearing that I was the next player in Garuba.
“Our ruinous fate has unjustly thrust itself upon you. With all my heart and soul, I am very sorry it has come to this. It is our people who should suffer at the hands of Satan, not the innocent children of God.” When the man spoke, I could hear the distinct softness of sorrow. This man, with all his aggressiveness put aside, was mourning the advancing tragedy that I would be opening the door to that very night. Even though I had been seeking his pity not so long ago, I was infuriated by it at that point. What good would it have done me then? I spun to say something to my host, but his face nearly ceased my heart if not my mouth. For the love of God, he was crying; but even more horrifying than the thought of a brute like Mr. Garris weeping for me, was the physical distress that considerably contorted his face until it resembled the gnarled countenance of a troll. I caught my breath before anything leaked out of me. For one quick, sickening second, I thought Mr. Garris was one of the hellish demons.
“I think, and with much assurance that the rest of the gentlemen here will agree with me, that we should, under the dire circumstances, permit you to receive some knowledge that no one out of Gaska could possibly know.” The leader waited for a unanimous affirmation from the group, then he resumed. “You see, my friend, our village has not only been the victim of the devil and his demons, but we are also the producer of his children as well.” The complete absurdity of this remark was insulting. How could he expect me to believe that. All of the men in the circle looked on as if this was a matter of utter seriousness. The shame on their faces was disgraceful. Either these men were desperate for an explanation justifying their doom, or they were touched in the head. “I know I sound like a madman speaking, but it's the truth. For many years now, our village has been giving birth to a large number of demons. They aren't what you saw, exactly, but they are half-human, half-demons. We believe the fathers are possessed during the night of conception, and when the time comes to deliver the child, it is always deformed.”
This was pure madness. “Deformed doesn't mean demonic. There are plenty of children with deformities outside of this village. You must be joking about this whole thing.”
“Joking! How dare you mock our lamentable situation! The numbers of these deformities are unimaginable. They are very common here, stranger. The only child you have yet seen is Ferlo's son Milo, and do you think it a coincidence? Have you even noticed the deficiency of children?” The man was now standing above me with an accusing finger pointing right at my skull. Once again, I was shrunken into the scared, confused man that first met the leader.
“I apologize for being so offensive, but truly, the deformities can't be that strange?” I blushed at the sheepish tone I had taken on. The leader recognized it, and relented.
“My friend, Kully himself is a victim of possession. His child was born with a severe deformity of the hands.” I glanced at Mr. Garris, but the troll had left him. He was now just a weeping man, empty and internalized. “But as all Gaskanians know, there are no exceptions. The deformed children of the village must be rid of. Mr. Garris showed great dignity that day as his son was disposed of. It is not an easy thing to accept, but it is for the safety of the people.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing: Demon children; Deformities; Mr. Garris's son. It all sounded like an irrational reason fabricated by the terrorized villagers who, after much suffering and heartache, were at their wits end to prevent anymore visits from the devil. Then again, who was I to say it wasn't true. I had come to this village with a firm belief that Satan's game was only a front to keep away outsiders; and yet, here I was, an outsider in the midst of Gaska's men, unprepared and selected by a demon named Purah to be the devil's next source of wicked pleasure.
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