plagued essays

Friday, January 16, 2004

I held my breath as the door screeched open. Not only did I not want the predator
to hear my presence, the foul stench that blew in with the strong gust of wind could make a healthy man sick in a minute. I closed my eyes and prayed, prayed that I would get over this done quickly. To my surprise, nobody or nothing was at the door. Doubtfully, I heaved a huge sign of relieve before creeping out from the cabinet. I walked out of the room, only to find the stench getting worse. A room with flames flickering in the shadows on the ceilings and walls caught my attention. Thinking I could warm my hands there and at the same time satisfying my curiosity, I tiptoed to the room like the way burglars scouted the houses before breaking in.

It seemed as though someone had forgotten to put out the fire, as the cauldron of
chalky water above the pit of fire was boiling. As I went nearer to investigate, I could feel ice cubes rubbing down my spine. A decomposed human hand floated up which gave a visual example of what gross means. The index and the middle finger were missing. Nails were cracked and chipped on the other three. I had no further interest in finding out what else is in the stew.

At an instant, I wanted to run as fast as I could from this place. What held me back
was a faint cry for help. I twitched my ears to track down the source. It was in the cellar. Due to my kind nature of helping others, I went down to answer the call. The cellar was dimly lit by several beams of moonlight through cracked walls and ceilings. For a moment, I thought I was in a slaughterhouse. Pools of blood and some curded areas flooded nearly the entire ground made from gravel. The familiar stench grew more pungent with every step I took down the stairs. What I saw next could never be erased with the help of a hundred psychologists.

Disfigured corpse were lying around, all of a disorderly manner. Some were
hanged up by their necks, with parts and pieces of body limbs missing. Blood trickled down from fresh ‘amputated’ corpse. Maggots fed on older bodies. It was truly a gruesome sight. A living man in the midst of this unburied graveyard signaled to me. I went towards him, trying hard to avoid stepping on the corpses. Slowly, the whole scenario came to logic, pieces by pieces.

Cannibals were behind the cause for this catastrophe. The man remembered the
hungry look on their faces before he was knocked out, only to wake up later with both of his limbs chewed off. I could see the teeth marks on the remaining flesh he still had on. Speaking in pain, he continued describing them. Sharp razor teeth with foul stench, bloodshot eyes, greasy hair and the enormous desire for fresh meat on their faces is all he could name before we heard a loud clank of the cauldron. The man told me to run as the cannibals have a strong sense of smell for fresh meat. They must have reserved this man for supper in case they had a fruitless hunt outside, I thought. Before I could climb back the stairs I came down from, the cannibals were already at the entrance. I ran back and headed for the backdoor. The only companion I had on the island caught the cannibals by the ankles and brought them crashing to the ground. This had angered the man-eaters and they went for him instead. I felt so remorse, I wanted to help, but it only meant suicide to do so.

I ran to where my legs could take me to. I halted upon reaching the shore. Hurriedly, I searched and combed the beach in search for a boat. Any kind would do. Fortunately, the search was not in vain. A rowing boat was at the far end of the sandy beach. I jumped onto the boat and tried frantically to untie the rope tied to the pier. At this moment, two cannibals tailed my footprints in the sand and headed towards my direction. In the crucial spilt second, it opened its mouth and tired to snap my fingers. Miraculously, I managed to dodge his bite and it bit the rope instead. The rope broke free and so was I, but it was not for long. I rowed the boat as fast as I could, and regretted that I had not took up dragon-boat racing as a hobby. The two cannibals tried to climb onto the boat but I thrusted the oar into its face. After a few attempts of struggling, it fell into silent waters.

I rowed till I passed out. It was dawn. Abruptly, I was woken up by the loud horns
of a large cruiser. Half-consciously, I could make out blurry images of shipmen carrying me up and brought me to the docks. I was safe, finally. It was indeed an unforgettable nightmare.