The Last Day That Bring The Curse

 

Bonso and Ben standing while consulting the chief priest of the shrine who was sitting.

Author's Note: Inspired by an event in a local village in Nigeria.

Strange Heat In January

It was a cold night for some and a warm night for others. For Bonso, it was a warm night. He wondered how he could be feeling this sweaty on a cold January night. It was just days after New Year’s, and he’d had a ton of fun. He remembered how he and his guys had gone from one party to another, claiming it would be the last time they’d party like that until the year came to an end again.

He sat there in his well-furnished room, wondering why he felt so hot even after turning the A/C to max. He took a peek out his window and was shocked to see the street and everything beyond it blanketed in snow. He whistled, wondering what was happening to him. He went outside, but he couldn't feel the coldness of the snow. He grabbed a handful and put it in his mouth, but it just felt like he was drinking warm water. That made him afraid; it let him know something was wrong.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his buddy’s number.

"Ben, there is something wrong with me. I can't feel the cold anymore."

"Bonso," a cracking voice replied, "I'm dying of cold. It’s like I’ve been frozen inside."

"Wait, you’re cold and freezing?"

"That’s right," Ben said, his lips so cracked he could feel them about to bleed.

"But all I can feel is this heat."

"What is happening to us?" Ben asked.

"How would I know? I'm burning up here."

"Do you think this has to do with what happened that night?" Ben asked him.

"What night?"

Ben wheezed. Bonso could hear him and imagined Ben’s chest tightening from the cold. He shuddered at what Ben was going through, though he had his own problems. He thought Ben’s situation was worse until he felt a searing burn in his own chest. He realized his was just as bad.

After a moment, Ben’s voice came through the line, a little rough but manageable. "You know that night. They warned us about the curse."

"Don’t think about it," Bonso said. "It was all horseshit."

"But the way they warned us... it seems this is just the beginning."

"I still don't think this has to do with that night. It was fun, we all had an agreement, and consent was given."

"But they told us we should inform their parents and a ritual should be performed—or we pay $30,000 if we don't want the ritual."

"See, I told you! It has nothing to do with that night. Those people just want to swindle us. $30,000? How could we afford that?"

"But—"

Bonso cut him off. "Don't think about that night. We were all wild, and it has nothing to do with this shit happening to us."

"Have you called the other guys?" Ben asked him.

"No, hold on, let me do that now."

Bonso dialed Fred’s number. After a long ring, someone answered, but it wasn't Fred. It was his sister.

"Where is Fred? And since when do you start holding his phone?"

She sobbed, her voice cracking. "Fred is dead."

"What? How and when?"

"A few minutes ago."

"Jesus... this is strange. This isn't real. What happened to him? He was okay just yesterday."

"He had been complaining of a burning and cold sensation in his body. Like half-cold and the other half-hot."

"Eh, I'm dead," Bonso muttered quietly.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing. I’ll have to call you back. I’ll be there very soon."

He started sweating. Now that he thought about it, Ben was right about the curse. It wasn’t just a story; it was the tradition of that town. If you had...

He was cut off from his thoughts as his phone rang again.

"Yeah," he said, distracted.

"I just got off the phone with Sam’s brother. It’s very bad news," Ben said.

"What is it?"

"He says Sam is gone."

"Gone where?"

"Beyond the living."

"Shit. Fred’s sister said the same thing. Said he had a cold and burning sensation before he kicked the bucket."

"Shit. Sam had it in two places: a cold head and hot feet."

"What are we going to do?" Bonso asked.

"Are you still skeptical about the curse?"

"I don't know. We need to get to that town as fast as we can."

"Yeah, tomorrow will do. It’s late now."

"What if we don't have until tomorrow?" Bonso asked.

"Pray that we do."

The Road Trip

Bonso hung up after hearing Ben wheezing. He wondered which of them would last until the next day. He returned to his room and reflected on how it had all started.

It was the end of the year, and they had been working hard all month. It hadn't been easy, but they had all agreed they would burn off the stress of the workload by having fun at the end of the year, so they had endured. Then, one day before their day off, Fred had gathered them and told them about a town he’d heard of. He said if they wanted to have fun, that town would be the best. He told them a road trip would do the magic for their long month of overworking. They all agreed, knowing Fred was the guy to follow when it came to having fun; he was always the life of the party.

On the appointed day, they all piled into his car as he drove them to the town. It was a strange ride; the air was damp and the shrubs along the road were so thick that Bonso wondered why. They entered the town before dark, and Fred drove them to a nice motel, claiming that was where they would spend the night—if they could find their way back after having the fun they came for.

Everything had been going fine until Fred introduced them to a couple of ladies. But before that, Bonso remembered how the manager of the motel had told them the land was not as free as they thought. He warned them to be careful because the people there don't hide secrets. They had dismissed him as just a local man with no knowledge of the outside world.

While Fred introduced them to the ladies, Bonso and Ben went to get drinks. The barman asked, "You guys new here?"

"Yeah," they said with a grin.

The barman nodded his head and beckoned them to come closer. "Be careful who you run with. This land is not as free as you think."

"Yeah," Bonso said, as they walked away with their drinks.

The Warning

He remembered the road trip hadn't been normal. They had passed through a heavy fog on a sunny morning—a thick, damp fog—and he felt it clinging to his body like it was alive. He remembered seeing things he thought only existed in nightmares. He had looked at the guys and could have sworn they were getting nervous, except for Fred.

At their table, he had casually asked one of the girls why people kept saying the town looked free, but that nothing was actually free.

"That depends on what you want," she said. He thought her name was Linda, but he wasn't sure and was too embarrassed to ask again. After all, by morning, he wouldn't be in this town anymore.

"So, how are we going to spend the night?" he asked with a grin.

"If you want me to stay over with you, you would have to undergo a ritual or pay a fee of $30,000. That would cover everything."

He whistled, thinking how a small-town girl could have such a "big eye" for big bucks.

"And if I can't do both?" he asked.

"There is nothing I can do, but be aware that strange things happen if the ritual is not performed."

The guys had gone quiet at that. They looked at Fred, who just muttered, "Superstitious folks."

They had all grinned then, but now, he could feel the heat. He thought he heard a sizzling sound in his chest and wondered if he was being barbecued internally. Now he knew it had to do with that ritual. He wasn't ready to die; he needed to get back to that town to perform the ritual, or he knew all hope would be lost.

Racing Against the Clock

At 3:00 AM, both Bonso and Ben were racing against time to reach the town. It was a tense road trip; they were both quiet, each lost in his own thoughts. When they reached that foggy stretch of road leading into town, Bonso felt the change immediately. He felt a resistance from the fog—he guessed it had to do with the curse inside him.

He nervously exchanged a glance with Ben and saw that Ben wasn't doing well. Ben was shivering uncontrollably. Bonso gave a small, nervous chuckle, and Ben looked at him. "What?"

"I was just thinking about how you’re going to pee with your body as frozen as a cadaver."

"This is not funny," Ben croaked.

"Who said it is? A man needs to have his fun before the end."

"Look where 'fun' has put us," Ben croaked back.

They arrived at the town and went straight to the house of the girls they had been with the night before New Year’s. They were lucky enough to meet the girls' father and explain their predicament.

"It is too late for that," the father said. "You were supposed to inform me after the deeds were done. Why now?"

"We are dying! Two of our friends have already died from the curse."

"The curse wasn't placed by me," the father replied. "I have nothing to do with it. It was the gods."

"How do we solve this without dying?"

"Go to the shrine of the gods and ask. I have no hand in it," the father said.

The two friends hurried to the shrine. It was not easy moving with one body feeling like it was on fire and the other freezing and becoming as stiff as the dead. They met the priest of the shrine, who was just taking a nap when they burst in.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked them.

"We are the young men who need to perform a sacrifice," they said in unison.

"Yeah, you guys were supposed to be here either the day the deeds happened or the next day. It is too late."

"Please, we don't want to die," Ben said, his frozen blue lips starting to bleed.

"I suppose so," the priest said. "Let me consult the gods."

He performed a few incantations, then turned to them with a sigh. "This is strange. The ingredients asked for are beyond me."

"What ingredients?" Bonso asked.

"The gods demand that you bring the tears of a baby crocodile and the tears of an anaconda."

They sat there, stunned—one burning, the other freezing. After a dead silence that lasted five minutes, Bonso finally asked, "What about the $30,000?"

The priest performed another consultation and sighed. "The gods say no."

They sat there crying, wondering where they could ever get the tears of a baby crocodile or an anaconda. It finally dawned on them that it hadn’t been "fun" at all—it was a one-way ticket to their graves.

NB: There are some communities in southern Nigeria. A man must perform a cleaning ritual or pay a fine, if he had intimate affairs with a woman for the very first time. This story was inspired by an event.