It had been two days since one of our bulls had gotten sick. My son and I had been trying to take care of him, but we knew all of our efforts were fruitless. The best we could do was hope that our bull died with minimal suffering. We had taken the bull to the witchdoctor in the nomadic settlement nearby and the witchdoctor said that the bull was doomed. That was when we learned of the ‘death spirits’. He said that when anybody or anything is close to death, a ‘death spirit’ arrives to take the body away once the dying animal or person’s soul leaves. When he told me this, I laughed in his face. At the time I thought such a notion was ridiculous, until the day that the bull finally died.
My son and I were looking over the pasture. Its southern border lay on the edge of the forest and swamps. The sick bull was standing near the edge of the herd, gasping and wheezing. It was mid-afternoon. That was when the creature arrived. It was humanoid, had flat, human-like feet which pointed outward like a duck’s, and it had long, sinewy limbs. Its scaly skin was mostly brown with mottled green. Its head looked like some of the lizards’ heads that were picked in jars on a shelf in his hut. When it walked, it would shift its weight from leg to leg and its knees were bent so that its knuckles nearly dragged on the ground. In this state, it looked about six feet tall. It was rather comical.
At some point it stopped lumbering toward the bull and, tucking its knees against its chest, sat on the ground. I told my son to try to shoo away the creature. He walked over to it and nudged it with his staff. The creature did nothing, just sat there like a rock. Nothing my son did to it would cause it to move. I called my son over. We decided to observe it and figure out whether it was hunting, or merely observing.
The hours passed and it was late evening when the creature finally stirred. We were about to head back to the farm house for the night. I told my son to guide the rest of the herd back to the barn while I checked on the dying bull. I strode over to it. It was suffering from dementia and was growing paranoid. It hadn’t seen me and was staring at the creature, who had sat like a stone for hours.
Suddenly, the bull roared and charged at the dark animal. I thought the bull would gore it and destroy my slowly growing fears. The bull was bearing down on the creature. I blinked, and then it was gone. I heard a savage hiss and saw the creature swinging from a tree limb, hissing like a cat. That last burst of energy killed the bull. It staggered, confused, and then fell on its side.
The creature, which had been remaining so still for so long, now moved with such grace. It landed softly on its flat feet and calmly stepped over to the dead bull. It sniffed the corpse. It proceeded, in one fluid motion, to lift and carry the corpse on its left shoulder. I yelled at the creature. Even though the bull was sick, giving it to an animal was a waste of money. We could’ve sold it to a butcher.
The creature turned and hissed at me then continued to lumber away. I yelled again, this time, hitting it across the back of its head with my staff. It stopped, set the bull down, and turned. It then stood to its full, terrifying, ten foot height. Its eyes were sulfur yellow and when it opened its maw, the smell of rotted flesh greeted my nostrils. A brownish-green frill that had been covering its neck extended out and around its head and turned a bright, vibrant yellow. It issued a piercing, loud shriek, the shriek of a hawk diving for the kill.
This was startling, to say the least. I backed away slowly, keeping my staff in front of me, in case it tried to jump me. It stared at me with its sickly yellow eyes, its frill still open, continuing to hiss and snarl at me. My staff was visibly trembling because of my quaking limbs. The creature crouched back down, picked up the bull’s corpse, issued one last hiss, and loped back into the forest.
I jogged back to the farmhouse. My family was already eating dinner when I finally arrived. I ate my food hurriedly, not saying a word. I would tell them what happened the next day, but that night I remained silent, praying that the creature would never come back.
A few months later, an old cow was nearing its final hour and the creature appeared again. Once the cow died, it picked up the corpse and walked away. Over the years, whenever one of our animals would die, it would come and take the corpse away.
I’ve never been a superstitious man, but this creature has brought my fascination and my fear. I know that I will eventually meet the fate of the animals that passed away. I know that when it is my time to die, I will see that creature’s visage in my window. I just hope I’m much older by that time.
