“Do you know, that we had a visitor last night, “ said Maureen, as she was massaging my back. A pitch-black night, rain started to fall. It was about nine p.m.
“What kind of visitor do you mean,” I asked, feigning innocence.
“You know all-too-well,” replied Maureen.
“Actually it is not her, but she has paid someone to harm us…he is an old Iban sorcerer. I know the man… Last night he brought to us the spirit of discord. Her devilish energy intended to make us quarrel and fight each other.”
“You believe this energy comes from my previous caretaker lady, the amah, “ I inquired. “ Why would she do such a dirty trick? She failed. Period. She didn’t do her job. I paid her for one month in advance, during my trip to Europe. She didn’t come to clean the house and left it dusty and dirty. She thought herself smart – by coming just the day before my arrival, for a quick impromptu cleanup. But I arrived early, and she didn’t know that. She broke my trust. I had to fire her!”
“She thought you would keep her as your mistress,” said Maureen. “Women always have their little cozy dreams. She doesn’t really love you, but she wants your money. Four weeks ago, I found charms she had placed in the house. One was hidden under the carpet, right at the entrance door. My cousin took it off. That caretaker lady wanted to get you hooked. Probably she also put stuff into your coffee. People can do everything for money.”
“I didn’t know she would go that far,” I stammered. “When I was away, I had a strange, ugly dream. It was just before I got very sick. In my dream I saw a witch, covered in black. She was wearing a sorcerers mask with a long, curved nose like the Iban mask we saw in the crocodile farmhouse. Then she put booby traps here and there, charging and wiring them, before leaving with a sense of evil satisfaction. When I woke up, I understood something was sincerely wrong in my body, and I prayed a lot.”
“Last night,” whispered Maureen, “the spirit of darkness came to our house. I felt it creeping in below the front door, whirling three times through the living room, before finally entering our bedroom. At first, she couldn’t come close because of your Buddhist shrine. But later she approached our bed from the other side. I left the room to see what would happen. I went to the other small bedroom, and waited there in silent darkness. Not long, and I felt her eerie presence. It crawled up my leg, gently like a tiny ant. When it reached my face, it felt big and dark like a bat. Then she tried to put poison right into my forehead.”
“Weren’t you afraid? You should have called me.”
“I’m strong enough,” said Maureen. “I wanted to test my power. My protectors took care of her poison. It’s all but gone. But tonight she will be back.”
Her remark gave me the creeps. Fighting battles with black magic isn’t all that funny.
It was almost ten p.m. when we went to bed. Sleep didn’t come easily. At eleven I woke up again, with a hammering headache. I went to the kitchen, and swallowed a bitter glass of Alka Seltzer. Then I sat on the dinner table, and dwelled in silence. Rain was falling in the silent night, and washed down the kitchen window. Suddenly I saw a little spider dropping from the ceiling, aiming right at my head. Normally I avoid killing animals. What a strange coincidence this was! The spider came closer. I jumped up before it touched my head, and clapped it with my hands. But the little spider escaped, and tried to run away on the floor in panic. I didn’t hesitate and squashed the spider with my feet. Then I washed my feet, and went back to the bedroom.
Maureen was awake. I told her about my headache and the spider. She looked at me, and said: “She was here, already. I felt the presence of the evil spirit creeping toward your head. That’s why you got a headache.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up,” I asked somewhat puzzled.
“I wanted to know how strong you are. You did well, though. She couldn’t get hold of your mind,” said Maureen, smiling. “Good that you killed the spider. It was probably charged with her evil energy, too.”
The next day I inspected the house. I carried around incense and whispered purification mantras. When I had finished, Maureen pointed me toward a corner of the living room.
“Something is wrong,” she said. “I can feel it. Some bad energy is hiding somewhere.”
I entered into meditation and performed a profound cleansing ritual.
After finishing, we sat down on the large leather sofa. I asked Maureen, what she felt.
“It feels a lot better and cleaner now, “ she said.
She barely finished her sentence when a winged cockroach appeared, creeping out of the leather armchair opposite of us. When it felt our presence, it ran back to its nightly abode in panic. But Maureen jumped up, grabbed the roach killer, and sprayed the insect. It crept over the leather, while gradually losing strength, leaving a track of liquid behind. Then it ended its miserable life on the floor, engulfed in a white poisonous foam bubble, and belly-up.
We looked at each other. We both felt the dirty insect had to do with our nightly visits. The next night was peaceful. Nothing seemed to bother us. We had a lovely breakfast and morning sunshine flooded our apartment with orange light. I sipped my coffee and thought about the last nights.
“Our sorcerer will get into trouble, sooner or later. He’ll get his black energy cloud back.” I said to Maureen.
Maureen nodded, and said: “He may be dead already.”
© 2004 by Franz L Kessler
