Death Stealer

TiJean is running towards trouble—he knows—but he cannot allow any further delay. Jingling along, he cuts through the rice fields and, with every leap, sticky mud clutches at his shoes as if to hold him back.

At fourteen, he knows he should have avoided long marble games on the day of a ceremony. As the last bell ringer and first born son of the Houngan Asogwe of the Vodou temple, his absence has surely been noticed. Yet, he still has a chance to arrive in time for his assigned chime. Although he cannot escape the Caribbean parental stare of death, he is hoping to dodge further consequences.

As he nears, he can hear the muffled songs and powerful drums that are collectively calling down the spirits—the Baron and his wife, Maman Brigitte. Just a few more strides. The cadence of the Mother drum picks up. The tenor bells begin to ring. Almost there. The crescendo is intolerable. Still running, he pulls the tiny bell out of his pocket and shakes it high, just in time… but he trips and crashes on the libation table.

TiJean comes to. Everything is dark and quiet. A silhouette with a top hat emerges from the shadows.

“Baron Samedi?”

“You done mess up my libations, boy! You 'bout to pay.”

“There there, Baron” a woman with a voice like honey on thorns interrupts. “We’ve been called properly and received the right gifts. Let the boy go. I like him.”

“Am I dead?”

“No child.” She grabs his hands and spits in them. “But now, you can bestow the gift of death or steal it and create zombies. Have fun, now.” She cackles with abandon.

TiJean opens his eyes again and faces his father whose stare is fixated on his glowing hands.