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Golden Bonds

A story void of closure

By MK ColbertPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 10 min read
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Golden Bonds
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

It was getting late; everyone was starting to settle down in a circle around the campfire. I passed around the marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers in preparation for the smores. My boyfriend Mitch turned off the music and was ready to initiate our usual tradition of sleepless nights, which was the telling of scary stories around the fire.

It was a cool night and the flames crackled, reflecting its own life force, eager to expand beyond the stones that had been placed as a safeguard. We were deep, deep within the woods, the hickory woodchips from the barbeque earlier still lingered in the atmosphere. The tents were set up, the citronella lamps were in place, the shovel and biodegradable tissue had already been placed for late-night bathroom runs.

“All right, all right, let’s settle down. Y’all know what time it is!” Mitch shouted and went into a body-building pose.

The group went wild clapping and hollering. I always had fun at these outings. As social beings, these moments often fueled that sense of belonging and inspired me to live life to the fullest. I had great friends that surrounded me, supported me, and wanted to see me at my best and for that I was grateful.

“Okay, who’s going first?” Mitch asked.

A quietness fell upon the circle of friends. Everyone began to look around to see who would go. No one was in a hurry because if your story wasn’t scary, you had to take the walk of faith. No one liked the walk of faith, no matter how confident or brave they said they were or appeared to be.

“Are you guys gonna make us draw sticks?” Mitch inquired.

“Um…I will tell a story.” Said an unfamiliar voice.

“Okay, well, who did you come with, and what’s your name?”

“I came with Daniel; he went to the car really quick. My name is Bhavani.”

“Oh, Danny invited you. I’ll talk to him when he gets back. We have a strict policy when bringing new people in but tonight we will let it slide. So, welcome to sleepless nights. I don’t know what he told you, but we all have been friends for over seven years. We come here to reconnect and have a good time. As far as sleepless nights, the only thing you need to know is that your story must be considered scary, or you will have to take the walk of faith.

“What is the walk of faith?” Bhavani asked.

“You will be blindfolded and taken a mile away to a different location in the woods in which you have until daybreak to find your way back to the campsite.” Mitch rapidly blurted.

“Whoa! you guys are not playing. I think I will tell my story.” Bhavani cleared her throat and gave Mitch a wink.

“You got guts; I like it!” Mitch smirked.

Everyone started clapping and chanting, “Bhavani! Bhavani!”. Mitch gestured for her to come up to the front of the circle.

Bhavani stood and took her position seated front and center upon the old rotten log that would become her performing stage.

“Why, thank you! Thank you!” Bhavani replied with sarcasm as she took a bow.

“Let’s begin!” Mitch shouted as he came and sat in the chair behind me.

Bhavani was easy on the eyes. Brunette bob, thin pink lips, straight nose, brown eyes, and a petite frame. She wore an oversized Alpaca wool hooded poncho with vibrant colors of red, blue, and green, black faded skinny jeans with black ankle cowboy boots. Her arms were slightly hidden within her poncho.

She began to speak:

As a young girl, I would spend the summers in a small country called Kazemi in the Arabian Sea. I would stay there with my father’s grandparents. It was often unbearable due to the blistering heat and hot winds. I often found myself in pain from the sunburns that I would get from simply walking to the garden in the backyard with my nana, my grandmother. It was often too hot to go anywhere so most of my days were filled with playing chess with dada, my grandfather. He often played hard in an attempt for me to get better, but I rarely ever won.

I was an only child and after my dad disappeared when I was four years old, my mom was heartbroken and felt that it was best for me to periodically spend time with his side of the family.

Let me be clear, my grandparents couldn’t stand my mother. She was not of the same descent, she was not of the same religion, she was a free spirit, and they were very traditional. When I turned 18, she revealed how much they hated her because they blamed her for my dad leaving them after college and not coming back home to Kazemi. Yet around me, they were nice to my mom, maybe because they wanted to make sure she would let me come to see them every year.

When I was younger, I loved to visit my grandparents because of the food and the family that would come and visit but sometimes it would get lonely. Until one day, on my tenth birthday, it rained, and I went into the backyard to play, and I began to jump and run and spin around and around and then… I saw him, he was majestic. His coat looked smooth as velvet, it was a warm earthy brown and his neck was muscular, with large hooves and he stood there staring at me. I wasn’t afraid of him even though his presence was intimidating.

I saw bulls all the time running throughout the streets, they were considered sacred animals. I picked an apple from our tree and began walking towards him.

“Bhavani! No, Bhavani! Get away from him, now!” Nana came quickly limping without her cane out of the back kitchen door onto the patio. She picked up a nearby stick and began waving at the bull as she walked towards me. This made the bull angrier, and it pawed with its forefeet and made a loud bellow. Nana dropped the stick and grabbed my hand and began to pull me slowly backward with her.

The bull and nana locked eyes. I heard a loud tapping behind us and saw my grandfather beating on the window as he watched us through the large windowpane within the kitchen.

The bull immediately turned and ran away almost as if it was afraid. Nana held me so tight my arm started to hurt. That was the first time I had seen nana so angry, she scolded me for my actions, and sent me to my room without any birthday cake and nothing to eat that night. Nana locked my door from the outside, which she had never done before.

I was laying in my bed when I heard footsteps outside of my door. There was a quiet knock.

“Who’s there?” I softly whispered.

Nobody answered. I could see the moving shadow of someone outside my door reflecting amidst the hallway light. There was another gentle knock and the shadow fleeted away. I slowly climbed out of my bed and went to the door.

“Who’s there?” I whispered with my body and ear pressed upon the door to hear.

No answer. I decided to see if the door had been unlocked. I turned the door handle and pulled. It was unlocked. I gradually cracked the bedroom door. I didn’t see anyone in the hallway. I looked down at the floor and I saw a slice of cake. I wondered if dada had placed it there for me, he often felt sorry for me when nana was harsh…

I went to pick up the slice of cake, but I noticed red syrup dripping from the plate, it was now all over my hands. As I looked down the hallway, I could see lines of it everywhere. I knew if nana saw this, she would think I made this mess. I had to clean this up.

I tiptoed down the hallway and past my grandparents’ room into the kitchen. I sat the cake down on the table. I hoped that they were not watching television in the living room because that is the only way to get to the washroom.

I heard a thud, then rapidly another thud coming from the living room but no voices. I kneeled beneath the kitchen counter afraid of being seen. I could hear heavy breathing and muffled sounds and stomps, but I was too afraid to go and see what it could be. The hairs on my arm began to stand then I heard nana yell.

“Bhavani, I’m so sorry!” and then the sound of a crushing block of ice underneath a sledgehammer. I got up and ran towards the living room. Our eyes met again, but how was he in the house?

I looked down to see the red sea that I thought was syrup now pooling around his hooves which were firmly planted within nana’s skull and dada’s face. Why did he attack them? He seemed so peaceful and kind before.

I stood there patiently in shock. I knew I would be next. The beast began to make his way towards me. I tightly closed my eyes. I could feel his body in front of me. I refused to look. His nostrils pressed upon my hair and my forehead. I stood as still as I could, hoping that it would all be over soon.

“Bhavani…look at me.” Said a deep bellowing voice.

I was confused was the bull speaking to me, I must be dead I thought to myself.

“Bhavani…look at me.” Sternly spoke the animal.

I could feel my body shaking afraid of what I would see. I opened my left eye then my right and the bull rubbed its face gently upon my cheek.

“Bhavani look at my hoof.” The bull positioned his right hoof next to my right foot. I could see a gold ankle bracelet with a bull dangling around its hoof. I instantly touched my right wrist; it was just like the one that I have worn all my life.

“It’s me, your father.” The bull said.

I stepped back uncertain of what was happening. I slowly walked over to the kitchen table and took a seat. The bull followed me.

“But why? Why would you do that to nana and dada?” I asked.

“They were planning on selling you to the prime minister before your mother returned. They are also responsible for me disappearing when you were a little girl. They said, I was bullheaded for marrying your mother and leaving them, so they had a voodoo doctor turn me into a bull. They kept me away all of these years but when the doctor finally died, his boundary spell no longer worked.”

Bhavani stood up from the old log without speaking, she took her hands out of her poncho and you could see the gold bracelet with a tiny bull around her wrist. She began to walk towards the trees as if we did not exist. Everyone watched her, intrigued with how her story abruptly ended.

As she entered the forest, she stopped, and there stood a bull. His coat looked smooth as velvet, it was a warm earthy brown and his neck was muscular, with large hooves and on his right hoof, there was a gold bracelet. They silently disappeared into the woods.

As we all began to talk and wonder what just happened. Daniel came strolling up to the group. Mitch got up and approached Daniel.

“Hey bro, where did you meet Bhavani?”

“Buh, who?” He replied confused.

“Bhavani? The girl who just told the story. She said she came with you.”

“I didn’t bring anyone to sleepless nights, you know I know the rules…”

Horror
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About the Creator

MK Colbert

MK a.k.a Maritta Kachele is a Jamaican American singer-songwriter, poet, film producer, and mental health/prison reform advocate. She loves to create new realms of exploration and enjoys writing diverse pieces.

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