Mike's Story for Thursday , 12/10 - Part 1

NOTE: This is a long story, so only Part 1 is required, but if you want to see what happens next, feel free to read the rest in Part 2!

Voodoo Cowboy

One look is worth 10 thousand words. The aging man stood there over the barren fields. He watched as the sun was setting behind him and saw the faint shadow the hill there was casting. The fields were a stagnant mesh of grey and faded amber. What looked to be years old vegetation still held some shape of what it had been. Our hero knew however, that if he just touched anything in that field, the husks of plants would crumble to dust in his calloused hands. He pointed his head up a little and smelled the air. The winds were hardly blowing, but he calmly breathed in to make sure he could get just a trace of the scent he was looking for. There it was. The scent was of a freshly-made campfire barely stung his nostril. The man took another deep breath, questioning if his journey had any merit, if it was even worth it. If he did accomplish what he was setting out to do in just 1 more evening; he would have no where else to go. No one to go home to. No home anymore. A home was just a dwelling that had love, but they were gone now. The place he called home was just as hollow and empty as these vegetable husks that lay strew about him. He couldn’t feel satisfaction in his mind until he caught up with them. So close and yet so far. The 4 day journey he has been on seemed to follow a repetition, and this evening was no different. The doubt always seemed to creep to his mind at this time, around sunset. Maybe because he knew he couldn’t push himself anymore and it was time to set up camp. The prey being chased would go nowhere tonight. It would only make things worse on himself if he tried to push himself too hard and got too close to the bandit’s camp. He was outnumbered 7 to 1, although he had powerful but stomach-churning allies in his knapsack. He shook the cobwebs from his mind. It was time to scope around the base of the hills to see if there was a suitable spot to set up camp and sleep. Getting himself situated, he took the knapsack off his shoulder and dug around. An old picture of his wife and child, a large knife, food, some giant blue leaves, a polished 6-shooter with only a couple bullets in it...and the cloth wrapped around a large glass jar. A shudder went up his spine thinking about what was in that jar wrapped up tight but had to stifle it quickly before….

The buzzing was maddening. There were large clanging noises in the jar. The sound was almost like rattling an old can with a bunch of nails in it. The loud, furious buzzing kept going- a chaotic hymn as the nails clanged against the glass. He took a deep breath and sighed out loud. The buzzing and rattling stopped instantly. Another long drawn breath came out as he remembered the witch doctor’s words in his head, “Dey can smell fear inssstantly like a pack of rabid dogs. Dey’s alwaysss ready to die...dey alwaysss hungry for emotion and fear.” He took 2 blue leaves out of the knapsack and lit them on fire for a campfire. Yet another gift from the witch doctor. They can create a roaring fire and stay strong for hours without a hint of smoke. He slowly took his beat up cowboy hat off and looked at the strange jewel the doctor gave him. It looked like a bright green pearl that the doctor threaded into the front of the hat. It was a special protective charm. As long as it wasn’t covered up, it would watch over him in his quest. The man leaned against the small pit he would call his bed by the strong campfire and fell asleep instantly, as if he never slept before in his life.

The dreams were troubling. Of course they would be. After all, his whole town in the middle of nowhere was alive just a few days ago. He should have been dead too, but the ‘grace’ of god spared him. Knowing what he knew now, he wished god just finished the job instead. At least he’d be in peace with his wife and child. The raid happened so fast….they were ruthlessly efficient. In just a few moments he was talking to his wife about how there was no way they could live off the meager crops they were growing while his son was playing in the fields and in the next instant….he saw through the slit of 1 eye the marauders galloping away, with his dead son’s bright blond hair mattered and covered in blood making him have hair that was scarlet red.

His subconscious forced him to delve deeper. In his dream state he was forcing himself to try to remember details. He was on the front porch talking to his wife about the crops and what they would have for dinner. He remembered thinking he had to get out of this god-forsaken town. The irrigation was awful. There was no way to make an honest living in this community of only about 30 people. Mary wanted to try their luck out east more, but they needed to be able to stockpile some resources if they were going to make the trip. He stepped outside to get his kid, Jake and get him ready for dinner when they came. There were only 7 of them, but they knew precisely where to strike. Their guns shot went rapid fire, clearing everyone in the street. The people in their homes panicked and ran to get their guns to defend themselves. But it was too late; the raiders split into pairs and hunted down everyone- shooting with pinpoint accuracy. Our hero wheeled back to his home to grab his gun, when his wife ran outside to see what was going on. They shot her right in the chest…gone in an instant. The man sprinted to his door to try to take any of them out, but stood in horror as he saw his wife sprawled out on the front porch, soaked in blood. Jake was in the living room with his father, but didn’t yet see his mother’s expressionless face right at the entryway. He pushed Jake to the floor and screamed for him to hide under his bed. The man only got 2 shots out before the raiders turned around and came back for him and the rest of the scraps. The man didn’t even notice the pool of his wife’s blood starting to form around his boots as he stood at the living room windows taking shots. Blazing by, the raiders got a shot that grazed his right shoulder. He yelped in pain and Jake came running to help. “I told you to stay hidden!” he barked loudly. Jake didn’t say a word, he stood frozen at the sight of his father wounded and his mother lying at the doorway. The marauders would get them both if he didn’t act fast. Maybe he could make a run for the witch doctor. The doctor wasn’t part of the town, but maybe a mile away. He was supposed to be the protector of this town. He was supposed to keep them all safe ever since he mysteriously showed up here years ago. The man grabbed Jake by the hand and pulled him along to the back of the house. They might be able to sprint around the house and hoof it to the witch doctor. One of the raiders saw them and moved in; the rest following suit. They came chasing and shooting wildly, not landing any bullets...until one caught Jake in the leg. Jake cried in pain while our hero started to pick him up. It was too late. Another shot caught Jake in the temple, and he fell like a brick. The man let out a primal howl and emptied his gun. He only grazed one before he was gunned down too. A bullet landed right in his gut. The head of the marauders looked down at the man, still alive and frantically trying to get to his feet. “Sorry buddy,” the raider said, and he punched the man right in the eye and then put another round in his gut. The side of his head slammed against the dark orange dirt and a plume of smoke rose up around him. Through 1 eye he saw Jake motionless in the dirt, blood pouring over his face and turning his hair crimson. The raiders were strolling away from the man and boy, confident everything was over. They started looting all the buildings and heading out when at last the man blacked out from the pain and thought he was dead.

Our hero snapped awake in a cold sweat; the fire still burning. There was the rattling and buzzing again. They were in a frenzy - in that glass jar. It must be because of his nightmare. He was afraid again. Taking a long pull from his water canteen, the man laid back down more calmly and the noise from his knapsack died instantly.

Morning already. It was just a matter of hours until the man would get his revenge on the raiders that killed his town, his wife, his son…and almost himself. It was only the magics the witch doctor possessed that kept him alive after the scourge killed everyone. The man always double checked his supplies before heading out. Campfire stomped out, picture, a couple more leaves, food, knife, 6-shooter, and the soulless parasites in a jar wrapped in cloth. He fixed his hat and headed out. He would gain a lot of ground today, and relished the fact that tonight was the night he just may sleep without picturing the horrors of his long lost family. Staying out of the open plains and moreso in the shadow of large rocks and dead bushes, the man journeyed forward. His nightmare last night was more vivid than the time before. Maybe because he was nearing the end of this crusade his mind finally unlocked all the details of what had transpired that fateful day. Our hero never was one to be brash or loud. He was the kind of man that mulled over a decision over the course of weeks, outweighing every detail and the domino affect it would have later on. He could daydream this whole day, but he had to still keep his eyes all around. If the raiders had the idea for a minute they were being followed, they might backtrack and surprise the man in mid-thought. What help would his precious jar of fear-feeding vermin be then? If he didn’t break open the jar in time, he was dead and his whole journey a colossal failure. He winced with pain. His stomach was still sore from the supposed to be- fatal wounds he had been dealt. This led him back to how the doctor was able to help him. This mystic certainly was a savior because if the man bled out any longer that day, he would have died with the rest of the town. He kept walking and day dreaming. He remembered now, what happened after he was dead…

His non-swollen eyelid felt like it was cemented shut, but when he heard the rattling of bones and cackling, he thought he would awaken to a circle of hell. That was not the case however. When he did manage to pry his eyelid open, he saw the witch doctor slyly slithering around like an excited snake around all the corpses in the middle of town. The witch doctor was tall and lanky, almost looked starved. His ribcage was visible through the shreds of deep dark green clothing he wore. His eyes were sunken in and his face looked scarred- on purpose. Tiaku was the witch doctor’s name. At least, that’s what he called himself in the third person. He always talked as multiple beings- like there were others in his head. Tiaku had a long scraggly staff with him, with all sorts of small animal bones tied to it. It was like some sort of bone windchime. Our hero saw the mystic inspecting the bodies for something, and then Tiaku came up to him. Our hero couldn’t move- he was hardly alive. Tiaku stood right over the man and seemed to be scrutinizing his fatal wounds. “Ahhh, dis is still a bit fresh.” the witch doctor said as he plunged the bottom end of the staff into the man’s wound. The man tried to let out a scream, but only opening his mouth and twisted his neck. Immediately the doctor jumped straight up and started mumbling to himself. ‘Tiaku, We didn’t do anything yet, dis one is still crawlin.’ The man coughed up a trace of blood. He was seconds from death. The witch doctor’s face immediately turned to stone. His brow furrowed and he fell to his knees. He pulled a small vial off of a band on his wrist and poured some sort of liquid over the man’s wound. It was so cold it felt like ice taken from a galaxy away from the sun’s warmth. What little the man would see from his 1 good eye started to blur and was having double vision. And then the icy grip of death was gone. His stomach pulsed with a new throbbing pain, but it was all sealed together. Tiaku placed his thumb on the swollen eye of the man. The one that started swelling when the raider punched him. The same icy stab of pain and then, relief and a dull soreness. The man was alive again. Disoriented, the man struggled to get up. “Ease up there. Dah sap takesss a bit o time.” the witch doctor said. Tiaku grinned, his yellow-stained teeth making him look like a horrid apparition. “Ow you doin boy?” The man finally was able to stand up and looked at the ground. There still lay Jake, his hair caked over in blood. Our hero was able to let out a scream to be heard for miles, when Tiaku slapped his palm onto the man’s shoulder. “Control eet. Feel eet. Wait eet out. We know what you want, and We can’t do dat. We can only help the living. Come wit us.” The man followed Tiaku, tears rimming his eyes.

Tiaku brought the man back to the witch doctor’s den. It was a rather small place, with all sorts of sheets and pewter items and bones adorning every wall. There were tomes, jars, vials, and scraps of paper all over the place. It seemed to have a controlled chaos look to it though. The vials all had different labels and types of putty wrapped around them. Large bones with symbols carved or branded into them lay across all the doorways of the quarters. A large barricaded sheet hung over a side room, with what looked to be a green light pouring through it. Whatever it was behind that curtain, it wasn’t meant to be seen. The man had been to the entrance of this place just once, but never inside. He was terrified at the dimly lit laboratory. Then there was a loud buzzing and scraping of glass coming from somewhere in the room. Tiaku flashed the man another yellow grin and said, “You bettah calm down or our friendsss wont take kindly to you.” The man took a few deep breaths and the frantic clanging and buzzing stopped. “We can see what happened; our new friend and eet don’t look too fair. Come with us, and whatever you do…don’t be scared. They feed on fear.” Tiaku led the man into a side room, past all the books and vials to a room with a few glass jars wrapped in cloth. The witch doctor slowly pulled one of the cloths off of a glass jar and the man stepped back in horror.

There were 5 giant wasps in the jar, stabbing at the glass with their stingers. At least, that’s what they closely resembled. They were a bright neon green and black striped, bloated, as big as a large man’s fist. The things were misshapen; they looked as if they were too swollen and sickly to be able to even fly, but their wings were fluttering faster then a hummingbird’s. The deformed sickly wasps were going berserk, stabbing the glass faster and faster, almost making hairline fracture in the jar. Our hero stepped back again and Tiaku shot the man an evil glare. “Calm it down now! Dey use emotions. Breathe” the mystic said. The man once again tried his hardest to not run out of the shack as fast as he could. “Dere, much bettah. See? Dey calm down if you calm down. All you got to do isss not fear ‘em. Dey can smell fear inssstantly like a pack of rabid dogs and prey on it. Dey’s alwaysss ready to die...dey alwaysss hungry for emotion.”

Our hero snapped out of his daydream. It was past noon already. He was on the verge of catching up to the raiders. He could feel it. He was on the very edge of hearing them across the hills. Better to slow down a bit and wait until nightfall. The man took off his hat and looked at the charm that Tiaku gave him. It was a bright green marble, that looked like there were clouds swirling inside. It was woven loosely onto the front of the hat- right above his forehead when the man was wearing it. The man put his hat with the charm embedded in it back on and slowed his pace- retracing what happened with Tiaku.

Tiaku had a wide assortment of horrors throughout his wooden hut. If the weird shimmering light coming from behind the sheet, and the malformed fear-devouring wasps weren’t enough; there was plenty more to disturb and question the witch doctor’s sanity. There was a small cactus-like plant that had very large blue leaves on it. Tiaku picked a couple off and put them in a bag for the man. “Leesin hero, We know what must be in your heart right now. So take these.” Tiaku also went up to his little pets; the bloated wasps. Taking a jar of 5 of them, he wrapped the glass jar in a small cloth and put that in the man’s bag as well. “No telling how many of dem raiders were around; but this should even the odds. Remember, they feed off your emotions- best not be acting like a cowardly dog if dey are around you. They tough little suckers; you get up to those raiders and throw this jar. That scourge will be panicked and dats all these pets need.” Tiaku cackled again. “Take dees leaves too. You burn dem and they soak up smoke. No smoke- no trail…no trail- element of surprise. And 1 last thing.” Tiaku pulled a cloth off of a large marble- the size of a fist that was highly polished jade. There was also a small marble of the same look right next to it. “You take dis; weave it in your hat and you have good luck. Put it right….he-uh” Tiaku poked the man right in the forehead through his hat. “Bury your family, I take care of da rest of da folks. Horse tracks go west. If you want to get ‘em you best get goin.”

A small jab of pain in his stomach snapped the man back to alertness. It was dusk. Just an hour or two before he would get what he wanted. No blue leaves tonight, no campfire, no more pictures or restless sleeps with tears and sweat. Tonight he would be the executioner, upholder of justice, retribution, and fury. The man was just in sight of the raiders starting to set up camp. He sat down behind a tree, motionless, until dark.

(to be continued ...)