“Our seed did not grow, we prayed
Our God did not see, we cried
Our love did not last, we hurt
And then The Butcher came…”
Terry heard this story every night as a child. His mother, Linda, told him it was their history. She was an eccentric woman that spoke in riddles and puns. He never could get an honest answer out of her, especially when it came to his father. Whenever Terry asked a question about him, she would become visibly upset; she cleaned nearby items or prostrated herself in front of a cross.
This continued from the time he was nine-years old until he turned twenty-four. The hospice where he frequented smelled of public transit and rubbing alcohol. If Terry didn’t suffer from his own ailments, he would take care of Linda. However, early onset dementia was not something he was equipped to handle.
On his final visit there, Linda looked at Terry with the face of a child on Christmas morning. Her eyes glistened with hope and recognition.
“Ethan, is that you?” Terry frowned in confusion.
“My name is Terry. Mom…who is Ethan?” He choked back tears; anticipation creased on his brow.
“We had so much fun then. Remember the Summer of ’27?” said Linda.
Terry took advantage of the moment and folded her hand in his.
“Yes, I do remember. How could I forget? With the uh–?”
“Trees. Those giant trees with all the branches. At night the wind would blow and the leaves whispered secrets to us.”
“Mm-hmm, they sure did. What was the name of that place?”
Linda stared off into the ceiling in search of an answer, her grip tightened. Terry tried to pull away but she was too strong.
“Stop. You’re hurting me. Let go.”
Terry dropped his cane and fell to one knee seething in pain.
“I’m sorry mom, please.” Linda convulsed; spit flew from her mouth as she spoke in a guttural voice that was not her own.
“When the moon burned bright, we shed
When the men brought war, we fed
Taken from our home and land
And then The Butcher came…”
Terry pressed the button that hung from the bedside table with his free hand. Orderlies rushed in wearing navy blue scrubs. They subdued Linda as she kicked and screamed. That was two months ago. Her funeral was small, members from Bible study, a neighbor, and an old couple that Terry never saw before.
He caught them staring whenever he looked away. One of them a tall dark-skin man, with the face of a Doberman Pinscher and the other a short, brown woman with pronounced cheek bones. What the fuck are they looking at? Must think I’m someone else.
After the service ended, the old couple made their way over to him with warm, enthusiastic smiles. Their teeth were super clean and straight. Terry squirmed in discomfort.
“Wow, you look just like him.”
“Excuse me?” said Terry.
“Forgive my husband. He has no manners. Our deepest comfort for your loss. We never did get along but she was still family.”
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
Terry struggled to his feet from the stiff church pew.
“My name is James. This is my wife, Patrice. We’re your grandparents.”
“There must be a mistake. My grandparents are dead.” said Terry.
James chuckled nervously.
“Not quite. As you can see, we’re very much alive.” said James.
Relief washed over Terry. This was the moment he’d been waiting for his whole life. He felt guilty because of the poor timing. Terry’s jaw chattered as it often did in moments of extreme stress, another symptom of his declining health. The old couple pretended not to notice.
“Listen, we understand this isn’t the best time. So, here’s our number. Whenever you’re ready, give us a call and we’ll answer any questions.” said Patrice.
She took a small white card out of her purse and placed it in Terry’s jacket. He nodded in approval, unable to produce words. A week or two passed before Terry reached out. He questioned the timing of their arrival and if they really were his relatives. Other than his mom, there was no one else to turn to for guidance or answers. Terry did not care for religion and did not have any friends.
He copied the numbers off the small white card onto his phone screen and dialed. The phone only rang once, they were eager to speak with Terry and talk about their son, Ethan. He too suffered from an illness that left him bedridden. They vaguely recounted a disagreement his mother and father had which led to their split.
The conversations between them went on for months. His father, Ethan, could never appear on call for various reasons. So, when his grandparents asked if he wanted to meet his father in person, Terry obliged. He booked a ride to the address they provided. His driver, Hamal, was a bulry man that drove a metallic dark green car. Upon arrival he waved out of his window.
“Hey man, thanks for booking me. Let me get the door for you. I’ve never been to Wander Grove but I hear it’s beautiful. Got folks out there? Geesh, must be loaded. You’re a lucky man I can tell.”
Terry failed to find a break in his speech and turned his attention to the passing scenery of beige uniform buildings, the community where he grew up whizzed past like a flip book. He recalled running the streets as a child, playing tag and football with his friends. In high school, his body gradually turned on him.
“I wish I could live in the woods but there are too many bugs and not enough places to party, am I right? I don’t know about you but I love dancing and the ladies love me.”
Hamal realized the insensitivity of his comment and glanced at Terry through the rearview mirror.
“Sorry man, I meant nothing by it. Hope this doesn’t ruin my rating.”
For the first time since his mother passed, Terry smiled.
“Nah, man I know what you mean. The ladies can’t keep their hands off me. Good thing I’ve got this cane to keep ’em away.”
Hamal led out an obnoxious laugh that made Terry giggle. Hamal shared his night club exploits for the remainder of the trip. A blue single-family home stood on a hill surrounded by pine trees. Sunlight cast elegant patterns on the grass, a welcome sight from the bustle of the city. Terry’s grandparents met him at the driveway with goofy grins that revealed stained jagged teeth.
Damn! What happened to their teeth? Probably wore veneers at the funeral.
Terry straightened himself and extended a handshake to James, who pulled him in for a noogie. Terry winced. Both his grandparents and the driver exchanged worried looks.
“Sorry. Guess I’m a little tender-headed.”
This alarmed Terry and he wore the awkward exchange on his face before the driver called out.
“Hey, I’m Hamal. What a nice house! Do you ever rent it out?”
James ignored the question and turned to Terry.
“He give you a hard time?” Terry shook his head solemnly.
James strolled over to the car and handed Hamal a hundred dollars.
“Thanks for delivering him in one piece.”
“Just doing my job sir. Sure, you don’t want to rent? You guys could make a lot of money.”
“No, this land has been in our family for generations. There are a few cabins on the outskirts though.”
“Really? I didn’t see any.”
“I’ll show you on the way out.” said James as he got in the passenger side of Hamal’s car.
OK. That’s not weird at all. Terry looked behind him, Patrice was halfway up the winding path with his bag.
“Please, I don’t need you to do that. I’m quite capable, thanks.” said Terry, as he stumbled to catch up with the spry woman.
She looked to be in her sixties or seventies. The walk seemed to take forever. Terry took in the silence; not a single buzz from a bug or squawk from a bird, not even the river which was a few miles out.
“Do you find it a little lonesome living out here alone, considering…?”
“Considering what? That we’re a little long in the tooth. I assure you we’re quite alright.” said Patrice as she stopped mid-stride to lock eyes with Terry.
“And we are never alone.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean to imply you were helpless. I was referring to Ethan.”
Patrice kept along the path without responding to his statement. They were soon joined by James. After a few hours and one too many cups of whiskey, the three caught up on lost time. Terry observed the long wooden table, weathered with scratches and dents. He pondered what could cause so much damage. Patrice met his gaze.
“I’ve been telling your grandfather to keep his work outside of the house. Had to hide all his tools until he gave me his word.”
“Hush Patrice! A man likes to play with his toys.”
“Yes, but not if it ruins MY dining room table.”
“What ever happened to, ‘What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours?’”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong dear. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine.”
Laughter erupted from the cozy home and spread amongst the towering trees that swayed in the evening sky. Wind rattled the large, twisted branches that loomed around the property like menacing fingers.
“So, uhm…where is Ethan? I’d like to meet him.” said Terry while taking a swig from his cup.
Patrice shot James a suspicious look. James dropped his head and let out a loud sigh before leaning over to place a hand on Terry’ shoulder.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Why, isn’t he here? You told me he lived with the two of you.”
“He is here technically…,” said Patrice.
“First you told me he was ill and couldn’t speak, then you told me he had a doctor’s appointment. I come all the way out here and now you’re telling me he’s not here?”
“He’s dead.” Patrice stared nonchalantly at Terry.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Terry, I know you’re upset but we can explain.” said James.
“No, I’m calling a ride and getting out of here.”
“Please, don’t go. There’s something you need to know.”
“I trusted you, both of you. Are you even my grandparents?”
“Of course, we are son. Your grandmother and I wouldn’t lie about that. May be hard to believe but we brought you here to help. Your mother wanted to raise you a certain way and we respected that.” said James.
“That is why we kept our distance over the years. Your condition, this disease you have, is a curse. One placed on our family when your mother rejected our ways.” said Patrice.
“OK. I’m out of here.” Terry began searching for a driver on his phone, Patrice snatched it out of his hand.
James motioned for her to calm down. Terry tried to make it to his feet but fell over, James helped him up and placed him in the chair.
“You never wondered where that story came from? The tale of our Savior, Mchinjaji. We learn it as children to prepare us for the pact.” said Patrice.
“That fairy tale about The Butcher and the cannibals? You’ve lost your mind.”
“It’s not a bedtime story. The Butcher offers power and immortality.”
“That’s just a nursery rhyme. Come on, you guys can’t be serious. I knew mom had a few loose screws but I never thought she’d be part of a cult. Give me back my phone Patrice. I want to leave.”
She dropped it on the floor and disappeared into the back room.
“There’s no time, when she gets back it won’t be pretty and I’d like to avoid that.”
“Did you just threaten me?”
“Absolutely not. Look at this.”
James grabbed a framed photo off the wall and pointed to a beautiful woman that was without a doubt a young version of his mom, Linda. She wore a flowy yellow sundress instead of the white headscarves and ponchos Terry was accustomed to.
“Your mother is older than she looks. Your grandmother and I, even older. Look at the date.”
In the corner of the picture written in familiar handwriting was the date, Summer 1927. Terry scoffed and pushed himself backwards in the chair.
“Photoshop. It’s Photoshopped.”
“Photo who?” said James in confusion.
Both men turned their attention to Patrice who was standing in the doorway, sledgehammer in hand. With the speed of a cat, she raced towards James. The first blow produced a sickening thud, followed by a crunch. Crimson splotches painted the wall. Terry watched in shock as his grandmother beat James over the head with a series of strikes.
His body slumped over the table; the arms twitched violently. He laid face down choking on his own blood. Terry fell again, his teeth ground together as Patrice pummeled her husband. Adrenaline coursed through him as he stood and zoomed out the door. His knees ached as he hobbled through the sea of brush and pointed tree limbs with no sense of direction.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!! I should have never come here.
Terry collapsed from exhaustion when the house sat a few miles behind him. Moonlight danced through the umbrella of shady trees as Terry caught a glint in the corner of his peripheral. Light reflected off a vehicle, partially covered in camouflage tarp. He crawled towards it for shelter. Upon closer inspection he realized it was the same car that dropped him off, a metallic dark green car.
Oh my God, Hamal. Did they kill him too? Was he a part of this?
Terry peeled back the tarp to look inside, no sign of Hamal. A ruffle nearby silenced him; he flattened himself to the ground and stared between the tires. The sound of panting echoed as Patrice appeared in the clearing, her face depraved and monstrous. Blood soaked her flower-patterned dress.
What the hell is that?
The whites of her eyes were pitch-black and her irises glowed orange-red.
“I’m sorry you had to see that but I promise you he’s fine. James will recover, he’s been through worse.”
Her corneas shrank into red dots searching the area. Patrice crouched low like a predator. Terry felt the ground for a weapon, his palm came across a large smooth stone.
“You’re close. I can smell you, taste the perspiration in the air. Don’t do anything to upset grandma, just come out.”
In the cover of night, Terry created a sizeable distance from Patrice. She circled the car sniffing where he once hid. A pair of slits, appeared on her nose. They pulsed in harmony with her breathing. Under the pressure of his foot, a twig snapped, Patrice faced his direction. Terry yelped. She ran a half circle cutting him off at the front.
“Get away from me you crazy bitch!”
“That’s no way to speak to your grandmo–“
Terry knocked her in the center of the forehead with the stone and took off. She paused in disbelief and let out a deafening roar. When the sound reached Terry, it sent an unpleasant sensation through every nerve. His eyelids grew heavy and the world spun out of existence as two figures stood over him.
He awoke to the sound of murmuring voices. His vision was cloudy and the scratches he acquired in the woods stung. When Terry lifted his chin, the room spun a little. The upright position he found himself in made it easier to for him to find his bearings. Terry gasped hoarsely through dry, crackled lips. His ankles and wrists were bound in zip ties. It didn’t take long for him to realize the situation.
“You’ve got some nerve. It didn’t have to go down this way.”
“Who are you kidding? He didn’t believe us.”
The voices ceased when Terry regained his sight. Patrice appeared before him with a glass of water in hand. He examined it closely.
“It’s alright dear, you’re safe. Drink some water.”
Terry shook his head in denial and mouthed the word no.
“Great, now he’s lethargic. Don’t worry son. If we wanted to kill you, we would’ve done it when you were passed out.”
Terry blinked sporadically as James walked up and took a swallow of the water. There wasn’t a single scratch on him, most noticeably his head was a hundred percent intact. The burgundy flannel he had on was replaced by a grey polo shirt.
What the hell did they put in that whiskey?
James pressed the glass to Terry’s mouth; he took the water in and smacked his lips.
“You did something to me, you…you drugged me.”
“I hate to break it to ya kid but that wasn’t an acid trip.” said James.
“You should be dead. I saw her kill you. Am I losing my mind? Why am I tied up?”
“Nasty bit of business there. I’m sorry you had to witness that but you must understand. Your grandmother and I waited a long time for this.”
“Please let me go. I’ll do whatever you want. The inheritance, is that what this is about? You can have it. Take down my bank information, it’s all in my phone. I’ll give you the password.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! This isn’t about money; this is about legacy. There used to be more of us but like your mother, they lost their way. So, they were punished with afflictions and robbed of their power.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please don’t kill me.”
“We’re not murderers dear.”
“Then you’re fuckin liars. I found Hamal’s car.”
Terry looked at James and Patrice who wore faces of defeat.
“You’re monsters. You killed my dad and now you’re going to kill me.”
“We did not!” said Patrice as she flashed into his face with those creepy red eyes.
James pulled her away and spoke without facing Terry.
“Your mother killed him, when she lost her taste for human flesh!”
“My mother was not a cannibal. She was a good woman…A Christian woman.”
Patrice spat on the floor and paced; shadows danced across her face from the candlelit room. The base of each pricket comprised of human teeth. Terry panicked; beads of sweat formed on the tip of his nose.
“The sooner you accept the truth, the easier this will be. Tonight, the moon is full and The Butcher will come. This is our chance at redemption and your chance to live again.”
“Say the words you were taught and join us, eat with us.” said Patrice.
“And what if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll end up like your parents. Mchinjaji, or as you know him, The Butcher is a vengeful God. Tonight, he will claim a soul. We don’t want that for you but we can’t lose his favor. Our bodies have already started to age.” said Patrice as she spun him around towards the dining room.
The wrinkles on her face tripled to reveal centuries of a harsh existence. Terry tensed as his chair lifted with ease. He flinched from the unholy spread before him. The corpse of Hamal laid on the scratched wooden table, dismembered by an assortment of knives and sawing tools. A gaping hole in his torso exposed internal organs, sinewy flesh, and bone. Terry squealed at the disgusting display of carnage.
“Don’t worry, he went fast. Can’t say the same about Ethan though. He suffered greatly, like you’re suffering. When Linda told your father she was pregnant, he refused to hunt with us anymore. We prayed for mercy and in return, Mchinjaji spared your life.”
Patrice shouted in veneration, “Praise Mchinjaji.” James echoed her sentiment.
“Ethan was punished. His body turned on him…and ate itself.”
“Is that what’s happening to me?” said Terry.
“Yes.” said Patrice.
“Eat and everything will be as it was. You can get your life back, play football again, live with your family.” said James with a glimmer of hope in his expression.
Memories of the football field raced to his mind; the crowd chanted his name. Terry reminisced of bike rides when his Locs flowed in the wind. All the things that were taken from him by a curse he did not deserve.
“You belong with your own kind, with us.” said Patrice.
Terry took in everything that was being said. The inside of the corpse squelched and bubbled. Wind whipped against the windows; a deafening silence filled him as a vision of his mother appeared. She stood smiling with her white head wrap, lace dress, and long skirt.
“Mom?”
She nodded with a smile and beckoned for him to join her. Like sentinels, Terry’s grandparents cut him free and led him to the table. Patrice slid her forearm into the opening of Hamal’s torso and pulled out his heart. She placed it in Terry’s hands, who turned it over in his own. James as he and Patrice placed a hand on each shoulder and bowed their heads.
The image of Terry’s mother transformed into a fleshy demonic creature that stood seven feet tall. Four tusks extruded from the left side of its jawline; in between long sharp fangs hung a sickle. Terry was transfixed by its glamour. He stared into its eyes, into the heart of a burning sun.
“Our seed did not grow, we prayed
Our God did not see, we cried
Our love did not last, we hurt
And then The Butcher came
When the moon burned bright, we shed
When the men brought war, we fed
Taken from our home and land
And then The Butcher came
To gain his favor, pay the toll
Eternal life to claim a soul
Hence the veil of time unfolds
And then The Butcher came”
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