UMQOPHI KA DEVELI, PT 3

There she stood, her white dress dangling on her body, red stains partly hidden by the long black flowing hair that barely covered her horns, all atop a wrinkled, face that was horribly disfigured on one side but fair and lovely on the other, peering at them with her deep set, black eyes that had a dark liquid oozing from them.

“My love,” Isela cooed as he met her, kissing her passionately to the horror of the two men.

“Dear God,” the agent whispered under his breath.

“I’ve missed you,” the creature gnarled as she smiled, revealing a set of jagged teeth with the same red stains on them. She then looked at the men, whose petrified expressions somehow surprised her.

“Is there something wrong, gentlemen?”

They looked at each other, then at it, unable to answer. Isela glared at both, his eyes asking them to be kind to her. Unable to contain himself, the agent blurted it out.

“ISELA THAT’S A DEMON YOU’RE WITH!”

“DON’T CALL HER THAT!” Isela snapped as he came at him, raining blows heavy as lead on his face. The agent tried to cover his face, but the sculptor, trembling with rage, kept hitting him until the elder raised his staff between him and the beaten man.

“Enough of this! Do you not see that demon for what it is?”

“Isela,” the creature purred, “why would they call me that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, going back to her as she started tearing up. He embraced her, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. The elder creaked over to help the agent up, whispering in his ears:

“He thinks it’s a woman he’s seeing.”

As he helped him up, both were met with the piercing gaze of the being, whose face contorted with anger and teeth gnashed, almost as if she knew what they were talking about. It then pulled back from Isela and held his face with its bony arms.

“Can I talk to your friends for a bit? Maybe we just got a rough start.” Isela looked back at them, mouthed ‘please’ then turned back to her, all smiles.

“Of course, I’d like all of us to be friends. I’ll be outside, alright?”

“Yes, dear,” she growled as he kissed her fair cheek and walked out, his feet splashing in a puddle of water, though from the elder’s eyes it looked oddly thick.

She shut the door slowly as the men huddled together, panic stricken to their bones. The elder held up his staff at it, hands trembling with every second the creature neared them with slow, calculating steps. It pushed the staff away and gazed into the elder’s frail eyes, watching him heave with terror and struggle to stand at the same time. it then looked at the agent, who was just as scared, then took a step back to address them.

“He made the choice himself. Now he belongs to me.” She then turned to leave, but the elder struck it with all his strength across its face, as blood spurted onto the floor. It turned back to him and cackled in glee.

“Get away, get…uughh!” he was cut off by the creature’s weakly looking hands grabbing his neck, lifting him off the floor, laughing as she spoke menacingly:

“I was to spare you.”

The agent watched as the being choked the elder and squeezed the blood-soaked cries of despair from his lungs, and hurled him across the room to the wall. He shrieked in terror as it lunged at him with a hideous roar, tearing his chest open with its skeletal arms to reveal his weak heart, which it bit off as the man gave up the ghost painfully.

“ISELA! ISELA!” the agent cried for help, as the sculptor looked back and waved at him, then at the lady who he smiled at as she feasted on the elder’s insides. He then tried to run for his life, but the creature, moving quicker than anything he’d ever seen, tackled and pinned him to the ground, her face covered in entrails and her dark eyes fixed on his teary ones. She then shook her head in disapproval, as he nodded swiftly in agreement, palms opened in surrender, making her laugh heartily as blood spurted all over his face.

“Hey, you’re already cheating on me?” Isela said, walking over to her.

“We’re just bonding. We ate, drank too much; see how the old man can’t handle it?” she said happily, pointing to the corpse.

“Ah, I guess he’ll be sleeping here tonight. So, ready to go?”

“I am. Goodbye, thank you for having me?” she gracefully spoke as she bowed, snarling at him as she rose up and walked out with Isela, who was gleefully waving at him, blissfully ignorant. The agent stayed on the floor, still trying to catch his breath and calm his rapidly beating heart. It felt like a dream, but the sight of the elder’s remains confirmed that harsh reality he was living in. He walked over to him, covering his mouth to hold back the vomit, but it slipped past his fingers and onto the elder’s entrails. He let it all out into his insides, then feeling nauseous at the sight, puked all over again.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he knelt by his remains, covering the man’s eyes in respect, his own a dispenser of free-flowing tears. His heart ached at the untimely demise of his friend, the eventual one that would befall Isela, and his role in all this.

“What have I done? What have I done!” he screamed, grabbing a lantern and rushing out to try save his friend, only to trip and fall with a resounding thud, the lantern dropping and the flame dancing on what looked like a stump. It was then that the agent realised that the fire burnt on someone.

He leapt to his feet to see his neighbour’s bloody head, veins still spurting out blood and his facial muscles still twitching, mouth agape at the horror he must have witnessed beforehand. He backed away from it only to nearly lose his balance on the body that lay on the ground.

“What happened here?” he asked himself, his heart nearly rattling out of his chest when he saw the town square littered with the bodies of his fellow villagers, some without limbs, some hanging from the nearby trees and others dangling from the roofs of their houses, and many more piled up near the statue that Isela made.

“She killed them all?” he asked himself, desperate to keep it together as he tried to process how this could have happened. What kind of evil could have possibly done this?

Just then, a knocking sound startled him back into his own reality. He shone the lantern at the pile ahead of the bodies, and for a second, he thought he saw the statue smiling at him.

“Help…SOMEONE HELP ME!”

His screams caught the attention of the guards on patrol, who ran over to him, spears at the ready.

“What is it?” one inquired, but the agent ignored him and tried to run past him. He was tackled by the other guard, who buried his foot in his stomach and held the spear right above his eyes.

“I’ll ask again. What is it?”

“Oh my...” the other guard mumbled, beckoning his partner to behold the grisly scene before them. Wide eyed in shock and disgust, the guards saw the bodies of their fellow villagers dotting the wide street.

The one who had the agent pinned down now reached to pick him up, holding him by the neck, furious at him.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” he bellowed, choking the already scarred agent. He broke into tears, holding onto the guard as he let it all out.

“It was him, it was him, it was him,” was all he could say. The other guard remained glued to the ground, eyes fixed on the horrifying scene before him. He shook the man, but he continued crying, mumbling ‘It was him’. The guard set him on the ground and joined his visibly shaken partner.

“What kind of animal would have done this?”

“There…th…there aren’t any,” the other began.

“We’ll be the ones blamed for this, you know. what do we do?”

“I don’t…I really…um, I’m not sure,” he stammered, still in shock over what he saw. The other one looked over at the disoriented man on the ground, curled up in a ball as he cried his heart out. Then, it occurred to him.

“Pull yourself together. Haven’t you seen death crawl on the landscape before?”

“Not in this magnitude,” he whispered.

“We’ll say it was him.”

“What? No, no it wasn’t,” the agent finally spoke up, standing to his feet.

“Well, who else could have done this? You were the only witness, therefore you will be charged for it. We cannot be blamed for you evil deeds, can we?”

“No…no no! You haven’t seen what I have seen. You haven’t experienced its wickedness first hand, like I have. You cannot lie to the king, tell him the truth.”

“We shall take you to…” no sooner had he finished that sentence than the agent dashed off, quite briskly for someone of his small build, much to the astonishment of the guard. He wanted to give chase, but saw no point in doing so.

“We might have to join him,” he addressed his partner, who was still in shock.

“We should report this first. At least clear our names, say he went mad and killed people in their sleep. Yes! That sounds just about right. What do you think?”

No answer.

“I’ll report it then. When you’re done, you know where to find me…my God, what really did it?”

The other guard did not respond, and neither did he move, for he feared for his life. Because just after the bodies, at the edge of the cliff was the sculptor in high spirits, gleefully singing as he danced with …it.

 

No one would have believed him, least of all the king. After all, who would try to discredit the land’s greatest artist? No matter what he would have said, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t convince anyone that there was a demon running amok, baying for blood.

So, he sought to tell them using the same arts as Isela, though he couldn’t quite capture it, hence they looked more horrid than they remember. It wasn’t much at first, but it was something. Soon after, carvings with horns and fangs were seen all around the village, stuck on a pole and glaring at them from their doors.

People wondered if he had truly encountered this being, or whether he were simply trying to make a quick sale. Regardless, his reputation grew, and the practice as the man of horrifying carvings became ‘Umqophi kaDeveli,’ meaning the Devil’s Sculptor.