The First Soucouyant

Hoodoo

Old Joseph sat at the window of his little hut, watching the sunset. The sun seemed to be awash in a sea of its own  blood, sinking slowly behind the western hills that formed its grave. The scene did not improve upon Old Joseph's mood, and as the shadows lengthened it seemed to him that they were laughing.

He shut his window and went inside to make his reluctant preparations.
Joseph had lived on the De Verteuil plantation for most of his life, but his mother had been a slave from New Orleans, in the American colonies. She had taught him all that she knew of charms and incantations, making Old Joseph one of the few Obeah practitioners on the island who also knew a bit of Hoodoo. He packed his Nation Sack carefully, placing his herbs and powders in their proper compartments so that he would not have to search for them in an emergency.
His preparations complete, he burned some sage and purified himself with it. Taking his battered lantern, he left his hut and walked away from the plantation into the forest that loomed black and huge in the darkness.

As experienced as he was, Old Joseph could not help but feel a sense of terror as he ventured futher and further into the forest in the dead of night. This was not something that just anyone could do. There were prayers to be said, plants you had to stop and ask permission to pass, holes in the ground you had to leave a banana and a crust of bread in, all just to get in and out of the forest in one piece. Old Joseph knew them all, all the chants and dances and rituals and yet even he was afraid.

As midnight approached, Old Joseph realized that he was growing close to the thing he sought. A silk cotton tree, far larger than it should have ever been, stood in a little clearing which Old Joseph soon made a bit wider with the cutlass he carried. This done he removed all of his clothing and went into his bag, taking out a razor and a bag of reddish powder. Making three quick and tiny cuts across his wrists and forehead, he packed the wounds with the powder. This done, he smeared himself with a white paste from his sack, then walked up to the leeward side of the silk cotton tree, cutlass in hand and gave it a single chop.

A low groan came from the silk cotton tree, the groan of a man upon his deathbed. Old Joseph trembled in spite of himself, and every hair on his head stood on end. The groan gradually increased in pitch and volume, coming to resemble a chorus of demonic infants.  Old Joseph went into his bag again, withdrawing a sack full of red bricks smashed to powder. Tilting it, he poured it in a large circle around himself. At once the groaning ceased. Old Joseph stood in the circle, wearing nothing but the Nation Sack strapped across his chest.
"Come." He said.

Old Joseph was not a very good conjurer. He lacked the malice, the evil intent that made for powerful conjuration. Whereas Old Ethel could call dark entities into her very home with ease, Old Joseph had to walk into their turf just for them to speak to him. After what seemed like an eternity he smelled the noxious fumes of sulphur and goat, and trembled as heavy hoofsteps approached him. The entity, twice as black as midnight, walked right up to Old Joseph's red brick circle, but made no attempt to cross it.

It sniffed the air contemptuously, in an almost offended manner.
"Brick dust, Jojo boy? Dai wha we come to? You kyah even give yuh compére a lil handshake?"
Old Joseph set his jaw.
"Me and you is not no compére, padna. I just come to find out something. Dais all."

The being laughed, a low rumbling laugh that made the leaves shake.
"You you eh looking for nothing Jojo? It have plenty I could give you inno."
Old Joseph clenched his fists.
"I take one thing from you and spent the rest of my life regretting it. Never again."
The being stopped laughing.
"So then what I talking to you for? You ain want no deal and you ain have nothing to offer me, as usual. Look man, I have things to do."
"You eh going a place." Joseph said calmly.

The being fixed its gaze on him then. Old Joseph felt his chest tighten.
"Eh heh? How you figure that?"
Old Joseph did not respond, but took out a small doll made with goats' hair and stuffed with sulfuric rocks from a spring.

At this the being threw its head back and laughed loud and long.
"Voodoo doll? You threatening me with a voodoo doll? Jojo, I know you was mad, but like you stupid too."
Old Joseph smiled and took out a small piece of twine.
"This twine make with John Conqueror root. This HOODOO doll have a paper with your true name in it. Yes, your true name, the one you had from the first, before the pyramids were built, before man even self start to wear clothes. If you don't tell me what I want to know, I will tie the hands of the doll with this twine and is no more power for you. No gifts, no deals, nothing."

Screaming, the being rushed at him, but as it stepped upon the brick dust circle, was flung back with such force that the large mango tree it hit, split and collapsed. The being sat upright, sreaming in ten voices at once.

"I know which part in Hell they keeping your mother boy!!! I go do for she tonight!!!!"
Old Joseph calmly begun to wind the twine around the doll's hands.
"Alright, alright! What??"
"What is this thing that is killing our children?"
The entity smiled imperceptibly.
"Not what but who."
"Who then?"
"Ethel."
Joseph was taken aback.
"Ethel? but she ain no witch."
"So you feel. She stronger than you too."
Joseph pondered this a moment.
"Why she eating the children?"
The being laughed.
"She ask for something she couldn't handle."
"You could give me it? Or tell me how to stop it?" Joseph asked.
The being sneered at that.
"That not for you, that is woman magic. Besides, we already have your name in our book, you ain have nothing to trade with."
Old Joseph calmly began to place some twine around his doll's neck as the being screamed again.
It was going to be a long night.

By the time Old Joseph left the forest the sun was already high in the sky. He both knew and did not know how to stop Ethel, as is usually the case when receiving information from demons. Confonting her was out of the question. From what the entity had suggested, he could not begin to hold a candle to her power. But perhaps if he had something to trade...

He walked onto the plantation where most of the slaves were already hard at work. After asking some questions he was able to find the work gang that had buried Ethel's son the day before.

He walked up to them, sweating and squinting in the sun.
"Which part allyuh bury Lagahoo?"
The men pointed out a nearby patch of earth.
"Dig him back up."