The First Soucouyant

Imago

Old Ethel looked across the darkness, straining her eyes to see the sobbing girl in the corner of the ill-lit room. Her tears and sweat gave a.  black sheen to her  neck and breasts.  Old Ethel watched her almost enviously.  She continued pounding with her pestle the pungent herbs that filled her mortar. The girl spoke.

"Mama... They leave him up dey... They not letting we bury him."
The old slave sighed.
"When I ready I go get him. Was your husband, but is my son. When I ready I go get him."

She stuck her head outside to see the position of the moon. It was almost time.
"Time for you to go now, let me grieve by myself." The girl obeyed, embracing The old slave before she left. Ethel listened for her footsteps to fade, peeking into the darkness to ensure that no one else would approach.

Alone, she disrobed, her clothes falling into a heap as wrinkled as her own skin. She took the mixture from the mortar and smeared it on every inch of her body while chanting the ancient words only she knew. Finished, she blew out the one candle that lit the room, plunging it into darkness. "Come." She said.

A heavy hoofstep came from the corner of the room, followed by another. Old Ethel winced as the stink of goat and sulfur washed over her.
The hooved presence drew nearer, its darkness blacker than the darkness around it. It spoke and its voice was so deep, Old Ethel could feel her blood curdle.

"What you want now woman?"
"They hang my son."
The being laughed. "What, you want me bring him back? Wrong fella you call for that woman."
The old slave shook her head.
"No I want to kill them own, make my hand strong, give me something I could use to fight."
The being thrust its face close to Ethel's, its breath hot and reeking.
"You not going to like this."

Ethel gasped as the being's rough hands seized her and spun her around. Swiftly it dragged its rough tongue from the back of her head, down her neck and back, down between her buttocks. Where its tongue touched, the skin blackened and charred, peeling away from the slick, naked flesh underneath.

Old Ethel stood dazed with horror and pain as her skin fell to the floor as her clothes had earlier. She could feel the wind, good god she could feel the dust settling on her raw muscles, could feel the burn of salt. The being touched her flesh and it sprung ablaze, a sick orange flame that gave no light to anything around it. It spoke.

"Now you could move like one of we. Doh make daylight touch you and.." It added chuckling.
"Watch out for salt."

It was gone. Old Ethel stood there, burning but not consumed, fully aware of what she should do. She hovered to her door, paused, then passed right through it. Massa's house was not far away and she was thirsty, oh so thirsty...