An African mythology about a short, hairy little devil, called the Tokolosh!
She stands by the window in her nightgown, her arms bare and no slippers on her feet. She woke up a while ago, because she heard a rustling noise and got off from her bed.
She has drawn the pink and mauve curtain aside just a smidgen, so that one eye can peer through, out into the night.
The full weighty moon, hangs low in the night sky, turning the night outside into a glaring black and white world. She glimpses the black dog sneak across the road in front of her gate, and her breath catches in her throat.
She knew this day would come, from that first moment she allowed Keith to touch her. From that moment his touch sent shivers down her spine, she knew that one night she will wake from a deep sleep and she will see the black shape cross across her lawn, throwing its shadow across her walls.
The chill in the air suddenly sneaks deep into her bones, and she rushes towards her bed.
Her bed stands high, on twelve bricks, three under each foot.
The … hush, do not say his name, has come for her. He is a short, hairy little black devil.
She creeps in under her bedding, only her black hair visible.
She stops breathing when she feels the edge of her bed being pulled down. She refuses to look, but still she pulls the blanket slowly from over her head.
He is trying to pull himself up onto her bed, his two little black hands clinging to the side of the mattress. He pulls his head up over the mattress and still hanging by his arms, she looks into his red eyes.
He has come to fetch her.
His familiar, the black dog, had already established that she was alone, not that it really mattered. He will drag her away with him to hell.
But he cannot because he cannot reach her. Silently she thanks God that she had the foresight to put an extra brick under each leg of her bed the night before.
He lets go of the side of her mattress and then she hears a scraping noise. He is dragging something closer to her bed. She searches her mind. What could she have left lying in the room that he would now use to stand on?
Her curiosity gets the better of her, as the noise gets louder and she leans her head over the edge of the bed. His little black hand curls around her black hair as he jumps up towards her, and before she knows it, he has pulled her off the bed.
His little sharp teeth glistening with blood, he sits on her chest.
With one final yell, echoing through her dark, little room Gladys knows she should never have slept with a married man. When his hand caressed her instead of his wife, she should have known the … hush, don’t say his name, would come for her.
Copyright © LYNETTE FERREIRAAll rights reserved.Lynette Ferreira holds all copyright-related rights, including the right to publish the work, to make derivative works of it, to distribute it, to make profit from it, and to forbid these uses by any non-authorized people/person/entity, thus being entitled to take legal action against infringement.