Ghost Tribes Vol. 1: The Ghost of Africa

Entry

Survive! I must survive. I race through these dark gloomy woods, dodging trees from side to side. Seven of us entered this hell of a forest; seven hybrids, sent to apprehend IT. One of us is, so far, dead—slaughtered by the hand of the demon that now pursues me. What kind of demon makes easy hunt of beings as lethal as hybrid? No one man can stand on par against just one of us, let alone seven. Yet here we are—hunted like prey by the very demon we came to capture.

The twilit atmosphere casts a monochrome expression upon the forest scene. Gentle gusts of wind whisper softly through the rattling leaves of the surrounding trees. It's cold; dark. The likelihood of imminent peril erects the hair follicles all over my body. My brothers and I were sent here to hunt and kill the demon that lives within these woods. Seven warrior hybrids—the most élite of soldiers—marched into this territory fenced with the skulls of the victims before us. But alas, as we entered this territory, the ambience suddenly transformed, from neutral to a dark and evil expression. It came from behind and broke through the rib cage of our oldest brother. It ripped his heart right out from his abdomen with its bare hands. All we saw was a dark shadow-figure hooded with ripped sleeves and chains around its limbs. And from underneath the hood shined gory crimson eyes.

Six of us were left after seeing it brutally murder our brother. At that moment, we split apart in different directions to escape this territory almost as soon as we arrived. We stood no chance and we knew it from that moment. However, now it wouldn't matter how skilful this demon is, but it cannot attack all of us whence spread apart in different directions. It can only target us one at a time and it seems it chose me to pursue as opposed to my five remaining brothers. No matter. For the sake of my brothers' lives I will gladly lead it away from them so that they may have a chance at survival and report back to King Tasheni, the chief that sent us.

I cling tightly to my spear as I race through this forest. I have to cross that embargo, barbed with razor wire and the skulls of every beast you can conceivably fathom upon a sharpened wooden stake rising high from deep within the ground. No doubt, a sign for outsiders to stay away from this haunted forest—a sign we foolishly ignored.

It has been two years since this demon appeared. Two years since it claimed this part of the forest. Before then, a small clan inhabited this place. A thriving civilization with an organised structure led by a fearless chief and his sister whom he claimed as his wife—the proud son and daughter of the very chief Tasheni; him who sent us, and an army of ten thousand hybrids soldiers purchased with inherited wealth. But that all came to an end when this demon emerged and led an army against the thriving clan, displacing hundreds—slaughtering thousands more. Men, women and children fell victim to this mass genocide.

They say it commanded armies of cannibal tribeless and prides upon prides of only the strongest thoroughbred lions. They charged into the clan in the hundreds and, with no remorse whatsoever, this demon led them against the army of the small clan. The cannibal tribeless and the lions laid waste to the village and devoured the raw flesh of common tribesmen while the demon itself overwhelmed the clan's army single-handed. The skulls of any man who had ever attempted to enter this territory, as well as the skulls of every single man, woman, or child from the clan before, are what this demon uses to fence its territory today. Tens of thousands—maybe hundreds of thousands of human skulls surround the borders of the territory it now calls home; a territory I must escape promptly.

My six brothers and I were the most elite group of warriors in this part of the Great Continent. We were trained intrepid, ruthless, and fierce. Chiefs and kingdoms sought our help when faced with great terror that their own men were unable to challenge. And it was for this very reason that we were summoned. Seven brothers—hybrids. No one man or beast could challenge us single-handed. Yet here I am, fleeing for my life in a most indecorous haste from a demon in the dead of night. If I died this day, I would rest assured that my remaining brothers escaped this place alive.

I had warned my brothers earlier to immerse ourselves in the fumes of the leaves that contort fear before coming here. The leaves, being a rare commodity, are brought only by the Swahili traders from beyond the great continent. They call it the herb of the gods; hemp. Every time before making hunt, we would immerse ourselves in its smoke which would rid us of all pain; all fear; all humanity. It gave us the strength; the fearlessness—the vigor we needed to stay focused on the task at hand. However, this time, our eldest brother imposed law against the practice, choosing to partake of this practice alone in secret. After having discovered his unscrupulous act, we conspired to confront him about it after our hunt. But now it seems I shall bicker alone with him in hell this day.

I can hear it pursuing me from within the shadows, jumping from one tree to the next. I race through open space and curiously look back, periodically. I can see the wall of skulls up ahead. I might just make it! I stretch my hand forward to grab hold of one of the sharpened wooden steaks at a distance, seemingly, with no skull atop its peak. From a distance, however, one sharpened stakes seem to pierce six freshly decapitated human skulls at once which drip blood from their jaggedly severed bottoms. These are not skulls. They are heads.

I slow down pace and widen my eyes in shock as I arrive at the embargo of this demon's territory. These heads pierced together by one sharpened poles...

"My brothers..." I whisper softly to myself as I slow down to a halt in realization. It hunted down all of them and ripped off their heads in time to hang them at the point it assumed I would be. "But how?"

Then suddenly, a heavy mass of black darkness plummets to the ground in front of me, right across the wall of skulls. I didn't come here by accident. It led me here. I look back from whence I came and realize the shadow of a fully grown male Lion slowly approaching. The demon's pet, no doubt. I'm trapped—assegai drawn ready. It made easy prey of my fellow brother hybrids. I stand no chance but that sure as hell doesn't mean I won't put up a fight.

"You slaughtered my brothers." I warn as the dust and debris from its plummet, settles. It stands upright and faces me. In the twilight of darkness, all I see is a hooded figure, rusted chains that reflect the moon, and gory crimson eyes that shine from behind the lion skull it wears as a mask. A cold plume of air trails in stranded streams through the mouth-openings of its boned mask.

Releasing a loud battle-cry, I charge toward it with my assegai raised high. The moment I arrive at the place where it stands, I swing my arm down to stab its abdomen but nothing occurs except my lower arm falling to the ground, severed, bloody with the assegai still wielded firm. It sliced off my lower arm before I could even notice it draw its bizarrely shaped weapon. I'm bleeding to death. My knees hit the ground and I wail loudly in pain with my other hand wrapped firmly around what's left of my severed arm.

"What are you!?" I bellow in tears of pain and anguish.

It grabs my neck and lifts my head to its face. I can see its crimson-red eyes peering grotesquely through the boned mask and deep into my soul.

"The Ghost of Africa." It roars in response with a plume of ghostly breath trailing out from its mouth. I feel a sharp mass break its way through my chest.

It stabbed me... with its iron claws.

I understand! It rips off the heads of its victims and hangs them to fence its territory. The bodies of victims, however, it feeds its pet lion.

I feel death slowly begin to embrace me.

It draws its hand from within my abdomen, after which I feel my body fall to the ground in an agonizing pain. I cannot move even an inch without feeling such unimaginable agony surge throughout my entire body. I lay on my back, panting pugnaciously, and looking up at the full moon as I slowly await my death.

They say that all of life's questions are answered in death. That is so beautiful. I lived my life as a warrior and a thief. Mapenzi of the Tonga is who I was. The last of the seven Tonga hybrids.

I hear something walking from behind me. It's the lion's paws treading earth. The beast obscures my view of the full moon as it stands over me. I take in a deep breath—my final breath before the Lion roars loudly and finally immerses its teeth into my throat, crushing my wind pipe. I close my eyes to embrace death itself. My legacy has been established—I did not die weak!

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