Original Horror
The Calling
By James Brantley (WurdSpnr@aol.com)
He ran effortlessly. Spear and shield held at the ready, for this was the Ghetti. A place where the slow and weak died quickly. But he was not slow and weak, he was almost a man. One thing blocked his station in the tribe and that was the lion he sought. When he could find the cat and kill it, he would wear it’s skin into the village and it would be done.A smile split his sweaty black face as he thought of all being a man would bring. No more searching for wood or water, no more hours of weaving the thorny bush into a village wall. And best of all, he would have a woman. Not just any woman but Tui.
His eyes searched the high grass and he prayed to see a tell tale glimpse of dirt brown hide somewhere in the waving sea of brown.
He was ZuLu, a blood red concoction of dies and clays plastered his hair to his head, a white mass of feathers circled his neck, and a loin cloth of tanned leather wrapped his loins. Had he seen himself loping through the grass land, he would have been proud.
Off to his left, angry black clouds rolled across the skyline. Streaks of lightning exploded inside the dark coils lighting the blackness from within. He could smell the rain already. It reminded him he was thirsty.
Should he wait for the big fat drops that were sure to come or move his hunt toward the river?
Without hesitation he changed direction toward the trees in the distance. He knew that the river drew the herds as well as the grasses and the herds drew the lions.
His long legs covered the distance quickly and he found himself at the rivers edge. Laying his spear and shield on the bank he crawled down the massive roots of a Popura tree and leaned out over the water to drink. He stopped for a moment to look at his reflection in the dark water, Almost a man he thought.
Something became wrong with his reflection, it shifted and seemed to melt, great white teeth filled his face and his head seemed to be swelling.
Before he realized what he was seeing, the Crocodile exploded from the depths and huge dull teeth snapped closed on his head and shoulders. The beast tore his body away from the trees roots as his fingernails ripped through the soft bark. He felt his face pressed into the reptiles stinking tongue and he felt himself being drug deep into the river. Water choked him and he struggled to free himself but it was not to be. He felt the rocky bottom as the Crock twisted and spun him until his spine finally cracked and a different kind of darkness claimed him.
It was 1:27 A.M. in Baptist Memorial Hospital when she finally gave birth. It had been a long hard labor but finally the doctor lifted the red skinned shrieking newborn boy. He cut the umbilical cord and handed the infant to a nurse who lay him in a pan of warm water and began to clean him. It’s tiny hands shook in the water as she worked. She was not even aware of the dark debris that rinsed from beneath his tiny fingernails, nor would she have recognized the bark from the Popura tree.
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