இரத்த ஆவி (Rattha Avi) - SCP Foundation

WARNING: THIS TALE CONTAINS MILD SEXUAL CONTENT; BODY HORROR AND GORE. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Dr Lerche

Hello readers,

Man, it has been a while. I think a year since I've posted anything here, heheh.

Anyways, this is my longest ever work on the site.

Special thanks to everyone who reviewed 11000+ words, and discussed this with me. I am truly grateful.

Be sure to check out the discussions tab for more info and author commentary.

I do hope you enjoy this. If you do, please do consider an upvote, and maybe nice little comment. Will make my day.

If there are any technical or SPaG issues, please do tell me in the discussions tab. I will try my very best to fix them.

If you would like to see more of my works, visit my authorpage:

https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lerche-s-merchant-shop-inn

Have a great day.

Silence.

Silence can be… something one yearns for.

To have an absence of distractions when carrying out their respective tasks. And that is true, if not for the tasks sometimes being tedious to do. Sitting in an office room sifting and sorting through stacks of papers for hours. Nothing but the whirring drone of a fan and the glow of fluorescent lights to accompany you. One would probably love a distraction at that point.

That was the case with Joseph Rayappar. He wipes the slick of sweat off his forehead as he types the details of the document in front of him onto the registry.

R. Charles, 65

I. John, 90

P. Mary, 34

Bore began to set in again. He glances over at the clock on the faded blue walls.

11:32 pm.

It was so quiet; he could hear the faint ticking it made. He breathes out a sigh.

"Bored, again eh? Heheh"

He could hear his brother's voice tell him. He remembers how he would say this back then every time he was caught wandering from schoolwork. Unlike him at the time, his brother was a man who took studies seriously, despite his laid-back persona which Joseph admired. That was probably what it felt like to be cool, he thinks to himself. The middle-aged man let out a reminiscing chuckle as he does so. He missed the guy.

His eyes drift back to the monitor screen, then to the half-full glass of coffee on the table, then to the open door to his left. He was all alone. Upon making sure, he takes out a small key and slides it into the lock of the drawer on his desk. Opening the drawer reveals a black plastic bag, from which he pulls out a treat he had been saving for this occasion:

Liquor.

He taps the glass bottle fondly as he pours some of its contents into the glass. Quickly hiding back the bottle, he looks around one more time just to make sure before stirring the glass and gulping down the cocktail. It was cheaper than most brands, but years of drinking had numbed the sting. One might argue he enjoyed it at this point.

"Still drinking at this hour?!"

The sudden voice makes him jerk and he barely chokes on the drink. He turns to see who was the disturbance. Peering in from the entrance was Susila, the cleaner. A senior woman who Joseph had become acquainted with. She had also become acquainted with getting on his nerves sometimes.

"Dammit, woman! You almost gave me a heart attack there!"

"Ah yes… I'm the one who will give you a heart attack. But seriously, don't you think it's quite late?"

"Woman, this is the only time I can drink."

Sometimes she reminded him of his mother. Slightly plump and plain, except for the slouched back. Sure she will nag, but he knew she was genuinely concerned. He had been drinking a lot lately, but there were too many things in his mind to care about it.

Joseph sighs and looks at the clock once again.

11:35 pm.

"Finally!" he thinks to himself.

"Well, I won't bother you here. I'll let you finish whatever you need to do."

He stands up from his seat and takes out the bag.

"I want this place spotless madam!" he says jokingly, mimicking a posh accent, getting a cheeky reply from the cleaner as he walks out of the room.

He leaves the building and walks down the empty gravel road past rows and rows of tombstones, humming tunes to himself. A full moon lighting the way on this Autumn night. He had been the sexton of this place for over 2 decades. He reminisces about all the graves that were dug, and all the processions he had seen. Everyday, he and his staff would spend cleaning these final resting places. It wasn't much but it was honest work.

Joseph walks to an area of the cemetery where most of the older graves were and begins counting till he finds it.

B. Alfonse Mutthu

(1901-2002)

Loving husband and father. Freedom fighter.

"Alfonse!", Joseph greets.

He turns right at the grave and down a path to a more open area. There waiting were 3 men.

"Here he comes!" says one of them raising his arm to him, a moustached man a few years younger than Joseph.

"Davide…Davide…patience brother. I have it all here."

David is one of the grave diggers here. Joseph had known him for around 15 years. He was his close friend and go-to drinking partner, so he was cackling as the man begins placing several bottles of liquor, plastic cups, and water bottles on the stone slab on the ground.

"Snacks?" Joseph asks, to which David immediately signaled to Mani who promptly stumbles around before finding the goods next to him. Mani was a younger man and was usually panicky. He is an autorickshaw driver in the city, as evidenced by the brown uniform he probably wore constantly.

The men laugh as David begins pouring the liquor and water into the cups and begins serving.

Rajesh was still chuckling to himself as he gulps down his drink. He is a raggedy old vagrant who comes for drinks. Joseph noted to himself how the man never spoke but was still more extroverted than many people he had met. Then again, most of the people he met were arranging burials. He was probably also a little not all there.

Suddenly, a voice brings him back to the present.

"Where's Sekhar?", David asks as he finished his drink and went for a refill.

"He should be coming soon. He's probably busy."

Mere seconds later, they hear the sound of a motorcycle pulling up and parking. A spectacled man proceeded to walk past the old graves towards the party.

"Your mouth has power", comments Mani as the men laugh.

The man walks up to them carrying a messenger bag.

"Hello, friends."

The men raise their drinks to the fifth man of their party. Sekhar was an outlier amongst them. He had the most education of all of them. Worked at a local library. They had somehow gotten acquainted through knocking into each other in the street and via his daughter's school trip. Also, alcohol has a strange tendency of bringing people together.

"What took you so long, Professor?", Joseph asks.

"Eh, had some work to finish. Got a ton of scriptures to digitalise. Anyways on the bright side, got a story for you guys! I recently came upon this thing when I was cleaning up the older parts of the library. It was a collection of records scrapped together dating back to the damn 1700s. It was a good read honestly, full of the history of the time. Nothing I wasn't familiar with-"

"Yes teacher" japes David, already a little drunk, eliciting chuckles from the group.

"Hehe…very funny!", the librarian replies whilst taking a sip of his drink past his short, wiry beard.

"But as I was saying, nothing I was familiar with. Then I came upon this chronicle of some sort. Bizarrely, it was written in several languages. Kannada, Tamil, Urdu, heck, even some Persian and Sanskrit was mixed in there. Luckily, I was capable of translating the text, so I became curious. After a good two weeks of hard work, I managed to translate the bugger into something legible. It talked of a kingdom I'd never heard of. The Hamzapur Sultanate. Apparently, it was situated somewhere in between the Carnatic Sultanate1 and the Kingdom of Mysore2. It served as a trading point of some sort between kingdoms. Nearby here actually, I think? Strangely, I couldn't find any record of it when searching it up. Though it was stated to be smaller than the re…"

Sekhar looks at the 4 half-drunks in front of him and sighs.

"Anyways, enough of lecturing. You all are here for a story."

The men sat around, looking at the librarian as he begins.

"So, a Nawab3 ruled over this land, ruthless and proud. Despite being so, he did run the kingdom fairly well. Made sure there was peace and settled most disputes quickly. etc."

"It was one of these disputes that was bothering him: The complaints of the farmers in his land."

"The men spoke of a monster in the forest, that would come out at night and feast on their livestock. This beast was nothing like they had seen. Not one of teeth and claws, but a ghostly spectre. A crimson mist or sand demon that moved to unattended livestock and within moments stripped them of all flesh. The men began calling it Rattha Avi, meaning- in Tamil- for Blood Wraith, or The Spirit of Blood."

"The Nawab sent his best soldiers to try and slay the beast, but how does one kill a ghost with a blade?"

"So they tried many things. They tried fire, poison, even explosives. But the monster was crafty and would retreat, escaping their clutches. Some of the villagers began leaving out sacrifices to the monster to appease it."

“What happened?” chirps Mani.

Sekhar takes a sip to wet his throat.

"Surprisingly, they appeared to satisfy the beast for some time, so the Nawab allowed it while the kingdom finds another solution."

"One fine day, the Nawab was travelling around his kingdom and surveying his subjects. He and his posse were walking down an empty road when something in the air caught their attention. A quiet whistling tune of a flute. The dark, rich mellow echoing through the air so enamored the king that he ordered his men to investigate. Together the posse goes in the direction of the tune. They search high! And lowww but wherever they gooo!…"

The men begin cackling. Sekhar himself smiled with glee, enjoying himself. Joseph silently chuckled to himself. Sekhar's alcohol tolerance has begun to show. Composing himself, he continues.

"Ok. Ok. So, they continue towards the sound but soon they find themselves walking towards… a Muslim cemetery. There they find a curious sight. Sitting near a gravestone was a disheveled man and a brown pariah dog. He had unkempt long braided hair and a beard. He wore black robes around his ashy body and a rudraksha mala4 hung from his neck. Next to him lay a danda5 and a cloth bundle of his possessions.

The man held a venu6 gently with two hands and was seemingly playing the tune to his dog, which wagged its tail. From the looks, the man appeared to be an Aghori7Sadhu8."

"Like Rajesh over here, hehe!", David blurts. This jest garners a fistful of snacks into his face courtesy of Rajesh giggling as he did so. David was briefly stunned.

"You bastard!" splutters David as he groggily takes some of the snacks in his chest and puts them in his mouth.

"Guys… Guys. Coool." Sekhar states.

"Wrong my friend. Aghoris practice hermitry and their other things as part of their religious practice. To absolve oneself from fears, desires, taboos, and whatnot to attain moksha, freedom from the reincarnation cycle. Despite what we've heard, they are quite harmless."

Joseph watches as Sekhar explains to David. David might understand, if he wasn't an alcohol bottle himself at this point.

"Unlike Rajesh here. He is just homeless."

Rajesh giggles.

"Continuing. The Nawab squinted his eyes, dumbfounded at what he was seeing. Now, you see, the Nawab had a problem. His prejudice. He despised the non-believers in his kingdom, and looked down upon the vagrants and poor. He felt that they made his merchant kingdom look bad to traders. Yes, he did try to settle the issues they had, but it was more getting rid of a nuisance to him. Like giving that annoying stray dog food so it stops barking. Wanted nothing more than to keep away from them and send them off as quickly as possible. Therefore, he could not grasp how such beautiful music was being produced by an ascetic who lives in burial grounds."

"So he goes to investigate further. The dog pricks up its ears and turns to the approaching men. It stands up and barks, alerting the Sadhu who stops playing. Turning toward the posse, he puts his venu down and sits up straight. The Nawab stood stopped a few metres from the man, slightly stunned that he did not stand up or bow in the presence of royalty. Usually, this would elicit a punishment but the music had made him merely curious, so he put up his hand to stop his soldiers who were just about to shout at the offence."

"'Greetings Sadhu', the Nawab spoke gallantly."

"The Sadhu looked intently at the king before raising his right palm."

"'Greetings.', he replied."

"'I must say, you play the venu beautifully. How did you do it?'"

"'Simple Nawab. I practiced.'"

"'I see. I request, would you come to my court and play for me?'"

"The Sadhu smiled and responded. 'Thank you for the offer, but I decline, king.'"

The Nawab was not happy but decided to bargain.

"'Listen, Sadhu. I will provide you with a comfortable place to stay. Food and riches beyond your wildest dreams! Just for staying in my palace and entertaining me with your music.'"

The Sadhu merely looked at the Nawab before responding.

"'Nawab. I have no need for all of that. I am content with myself and what I have. Besides, I play only for those worthy. And that is whoever and whatever. You happened to come upon me playing and you have enjoyed it. Now, I will leave and play, and others will listen. You cannot keep it for yourself.'"

The Nawab looked at the dog. The man's insult was silent but piercing. Fed up with his speech, he went to insult the Sadhu.

"'True. Your music is for everyone but usually, a man of high skill and level would play such an instrument. It is highly respected, you see.'"

"'Indeed king. I respect the instrument and it respects me. Do you think I am not worthy?'"

"'No nooo… of course not! But one playing the instrument would not keep himself as dirty as you are. It is a gift to play that, you know?'"

"The Sadhu looked straight at the king and replied. 'Indeed my king. The instrument looks for those who are gifted, no matter their appearance. One can be a dirt-covered gem while at the same time another can be gold-adorned dung!'"

"At this, the Nawab threw all pleasantries out the window."

"'Listen here you filthy dog! You dare speak to me as such! I do not n-'"

"The Nawab stopped at the feeling of something wet on his leg. He looked down to his horror at the Sadhu's dog, which during his tirade had quietly walked up to him and began relieving itself on his leg."

The king jerked back as the Sadhu chuckled.

"'Even the dog can assess worth well.'"

"Enraged and humiliated, the Nawab kicked at the dog which barked and ran away. This prompted the Sadhu to quickly get up and get his danda. However, he soon found himself cornered by the swords, spears, and muskets of the royal soldiers."

"'I want this man thrown in the dungeon! And since you like living simply, you will not receive even a morsel for a day. That will teach your dirty tongue some manners!', ordered the irate Nawab, at which the Sadhu was escorted away as his belongings were taken and thrown out of the cemetery."

Joseph looks at the men who were all glued to Sekhar, now lively telling the tale. Well, all except Mani, who was staring off into the distance. Soon Sekhar too took notice.

"Mani, what are you looking at?", Sekhar says as he turned in the direction.

"Maybe Susila is showing a bit, hahah", David guffaws as he looks as well.

The men all turn and stay silent. There, some distance from them but close enough to see, stood a brown, stray dog. It stood there quietly staring at the gang. David proceeded to break the silence with an annoyed shout before throwing a nearby stone at the creature, causing it to run away into the dark.

"Bloody dogs. Always getting in here. You should fix the fence in that area, Josephe!" says David.

"But David, you are the handyman of this place." Mani quickly replies, getting the whole group laughing. Except for David of course.

"Quiet you!… Sekhar contiinueee."

"So the Sadhu is locked up. Night falls, and the Sadhu begins asking for food. As the Nawab ordered, he was not given any food or water. His lamenting had begun irritating the other prisoners in his cell, who tell him to shut up. The Sadhu, however, just gets tenser and tenser and increases his shouting. This pisses off one of the prisoners so much that he walks over to beat the man. The Sadhu returns blows and a brawl starts in the cell. Due to it being late at night, there were fewer guards, and those that were there were mostly not interested in dealing with the situation. As the brawl ensued, one of the prisoners tears a lock of hair off the Sadhu's head. A spray of blood covered his face followed by the Sadhu shouting in pain. However, as he went to wipe it off, he noticed the lock in his hand had blood flowing out of it, almost like a limb. Then it began writhing in his hand before latching on to his skin. The man began screaming, thrashing his hand around before suddenly grabbing his face. The commotion caused the other to turn towards him. They looked back at the Sadhu, who had stopped bleeding as soon as it started and had a horrible grin on his face."

"In an instant, he raised his hand and like a tiger and swiped the head of one of the attackers, tearing it off with a sickening ripping and snapping sound. The Sadhu lapped up the blood on his hand as the body hit the ground before biting into the body. The prisoners could then only watch and scream in terror as the once frail man looked up at them with wild eyes before erupting into a mass of red."

"The guards are alerted to the unholy screaming and sounds and rush into the dungeon. Opening the door, they see a horrific sight. The cell is filled with a red mist in which several silhouettes lay on the floor. The only thing able to be seen was a prisoner desperately trying to fit his body through the bars and flailing at them, screaming as his uniform and flesh appear to be tearing away from his body. Soon, however, the man goes limp as the guards sound the alarm, unable and more likely unwilling to do anything else. The mist, seemingly finished, poured out of the window of the cell through the bars, leaving behind 4 skeletons with ripped up clothes and a half-consumed body hanging in the cell door."

"Soon, soldiers and lookouts are searching for the beast while the other populace is ordered into their homes. The mist is seen moving across the palace before stopping at the royal stables for a while then quickly flowing across the fields and retreating into the dark forest."

"The soldiers reported the incident back to the Nawab, along with a new discovery. In the stables, the Nawab's horse had been found slain. The damage, however, was not nearly as severe as in previous cases.

The Nawab is distraught at the loss of his favourite horse, but now has a new resolve to find the perpetrator.

Immediately the next day, a manhunt is ordered. With the knowledge that the beast was an Aghori, vagrants and hermits, particularly the Sadhus and Aghori sect, became targets and were either forced to leave or killed. Persecution against Hindus and other religions in the sultanate also increased. On the other hand, scholars and priests from far and wide were called while scouts were sent out, all to discover any information about the beast and how to kill it. During this time, whilst travelling again, the Nawab sees a brown pariah dog. Wanting to send a warning, and flashing back to the soiling of his pants, he gets his musket, aims, and shoots the dog dead.

After weeks of research, information began pouring in. Their two neighboring kingdoms also spoke of a similar phenomenon they had experienced in the past where animals were found stripped to the bone, as well as body snatching9. There have also been reports of similar attacks as far as the Durrani10 and going back to the Mauryan period, though their tales always varied in the cause. Some spoke of a pack of wolves. Some spoke of a giant python. One said flies. One said ghuls11. One said the ghost of a dead king. One said a rakshasa12 with a goat head and a lion's body with wings that became a red flaming ghost. One scholar even said…"

"You buggers have nothing better to do, eh? Drinking and chit-chatting all night long listening to tall tales."

The men are jumpscared and quickly turn to the abrupt nagging. It was Susila.

"What the hell woman! Coming out here like a ghost!", David shouts.

"Ah quiet you, you big black bear! Mani, I'll be finishing cleaning up in a bit. You finish your socialising quick and start the auto13.", Susila ordered before turning back.

Mani sighed. "Fine, aunty." He gets up and fixes his jacket. "Sorry friends I have to go. Enough booze to drive. Hey Sekhar, you tell me the story later, ok?"

Sekhar looks at his watch. "You know, it's alright. I'll stop for now. We'll continue next time. A bit tired."

He says as he stretches his back before rubbing his temples.

Joseph gets up. "Alright see you everyone. Goodnight."

The men say their goodbyes before dispersing. Mani to his autorickshaw. David to his chamber in the churchyard. And Rajesh to the road. But Joseph and Sekhar stay. Joseph signals to Sekhar and they walk together to the latter's motorcycle.

"You brought the stuff?" Joseph asks.

Sekhar nods quickly.

"Yes, and you brought yours, yes?"

Sekhar opens his bag and gives him a file.

"Spent quite a while translating that man. Wrote as much as I could down."

"Thank you. Man, this is a lot. You wrote it down? Why di-"

"Look, I-I don't know. It felt more convenient at the time. But no matter. I hope this serves you well."

"Alright… Thank you, brother."

Joseph in exchange handed him a bundle of money.

"Rs. 10000. Again, thank you."

"You-you are most welcome," Sekhar says as he rubs his forehead.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, I've just been having a slight headache."

"Shall I get you a c-"

"No, it's all right. Wife's waiting. Must go."

"Alright then, goodnight Sekhar."

"Goodnight Sir.", Sekhar states as he climbed onto his motorcycle and rode off, the zooming of his vehicle echoing in the empty street until he could hear it no longer. Joseph looks at the file in his hands and felt a conviction. He walks back to the church, closing everything before walking to his car and driving off into the night.

The time was 1:50 am. Joseph looks at the clock in his car as he drives down the dimly lit road on his way home. He ponders on the story Sekhar had told.

A missing kingdom.

A ghost made of blood.

Manhunt.

What a damn spooky story.

He is so caught up in his thought that he just barely notices the herd of cows that appear in the range of his headlights. He smashes his leg against the brakes pedal and the car just barely screeches to a halt. The cows moved a bit before casually continuing across the road. They had become used to the metal boxes that roll down the road it seemed. Joseph catches his breath and watches the bovines. One of the cows stops to turn and look at him before moving with the rest of the herd. Joseph watches them till they reach the other side, before continuing to drive.

It might have been the night obscuring his vision, or the alcohol, or maybe entirely an imagination of his tired mind, but he thought he saw that cow smiling at him.

Smiling with a grin. A wide, human-like grin, looking at him with intent.

Thinking the events of the day had gotten to his head, the sexton shakes it off and continued his drive. But as he drives, he happens to glance at the file sitting in his front passenger seat. The thick bundle of papers sitting neatly in a blue manila folder seem to look back at him.

He sighs. If he didn't satisfy his curiosity now, he would probably be seeing weird looks in every critter in the region.

He slowly pulls over to the side of the road and puts the file in his lap. Opening it, the title and papers almost looked like a script for some movie.

He flips through the papers till he reached the point resembling where Sekhar stopped. The Nawab had apparently been pleased with whatever was found.

This was, however, when the kingdom began experiencing a series of events. He reads further…

Two major roads leading to the kingdom were hit by massive landslides, cutting major trading, supply, and transport routes to the sultanate. Workers were sent to clear the debris but throughout the construction, men began disappearing one by one. This occurred to the point that many workers refused to work on clearing the landslide even with the threat of execution. This resulted in traffic being diverted into less travelled paths.

However, they were not safe there either. Next, those who travelled these roads were attacked and left horrifically mauled, further discouraging transport to the region. This affected the kingdom due to its dependency on trade.

What followed was a plague of internal issues. Livestock in the kingdom was being slain left and right.

Later, a mass food poisoning epidemic resulted in many casualties. The cause was determined to be a pile of dead snakes and poisonous frogs that tainted the main river supplying the kingdom with its water.

The lack of food caused tensions in the kingdom and soon paranoia began to set in, with vagrants being attacked as well as sectarian violence between the Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, and other religions in the kingdom, each blaming each other for the calamity.

Anger was also being directed at the royalty and the soldiers for they were mostly untouched by the growing food crisis as prices began to soar. It didn't help either that rumours of direct trade between the Carnatic and Mysore was being discussed, causing some merchants to flee.

Within the span of several months, the kingdom found itself embroiled in chaos.

Joseph looks up from the paper. He takes a moment to process what he had read. His eyes drift across the road in front of him. The streetlights were brighter now, lighting the empty streets and the rows of closed shops on either side. On the right side of his view under a streetlight in the distance stood a figure.

It appears to be a homeless man.

Joseph takes notice and as if on cue, the figure begins walking toward him. Joseph instinctively locks his doors and observes the figure.

Getting closer reveals the figure to be a man. A raggedy old man.

It was Rajesh.

Joseph did find it an interesting coincidence that he happened to come across Rajesh by chance tonight but chalks it up to the man wandering and relaxes himself. Soon, Rajesh was near the car, raising his hand to wave widely, still with a happy-go-lucky grin on his face. Joseph exhales before lowering the side window. Rajesh stood there and makes a sound seeming to greet him.

"Hey Rajesh, what are you doing here man?", Joseph asks in a friendly manner.

Rajesh begins making incoherent sounds and making hand gestures, seemingly to convey his journey. Somehow Joseph could understand.

"Heheheh, alright", Joseph chuckles, "Stay safe brother. I'll be on my way."

Joseph waved funnily at the man and prepares to continue his drive home.

"What happened next in the story?"

Joseph's foot froze just moments before stepping on the accelerator. The words somehow jammed his brain and his whole body. He turns in disbelief to the direction of the voice. His mouth had suddenly become dry, but he manages to mumble a few words out.

"W-W-Whu…Wh-What?"

Rajesh only looks back at him, before opening his mouth and forming, clear and commanding words, in fluent English, stating.

"Sekhar's story. What happened next? Joseph?"

It is at this that something stirred in the sexton and pinpricks of cold sweat began to form on his neck and back.

"Do not read it. Without. Me."

Almost automatically, Joseph finds himself stepping on the gas and speeding away as the vagrant's cackling echoes in the distance. His heart was beating a mile a minute as questions bombarded his mind.

He needed to go home.

He keeps speeding through the streets, passing by people and stray animals on the street, and each time, he swore, they were watching him with intent behind their eyes.

He only felt less afraid as he approached his home. He quickly parks his car. Grabbing his things, he almost leaps out of his car and speed-walks into his compound. He fumbles his keys, muttering a few curses as he looks around. Finally steadying his shaking hands, he unlocks the door and pushes through, shutting it behind him and making damn sure to deadbolt the thing.

Joseph stands in the dark for a good while. He then goes to shut the curtains on the windows, peeping out to see if anyone was potentially following him. Satisfying his paranoia, he goes to his fridge and gets some cold water to drink. He then lies down for a while to ponder about what happened.

Rajesh. Spoke. In fluent English at that too.

Joseph racked his mind trying to find a rational explanation for what had occurred.

"Maybe Rajesh could… always speak? But why? Why now? In the middle of the bloody road! No-no. No. No."

His situation was so surreal that even if the overgrown street urchin had deliberately played mute all this time and was secretly going for English lessons in preparation for the most elaborate prank he had ever experienced, he couldn't believe it.

Joseph closed his eyes trying to comfort himself with the absence of visual stimuli. It was then his brother's words came to him.

"Focus Joseph. Focus! The emotions are temporary. Think about what can be done."

Opening his eyes with newfound resolve, Joseph decides to inform Sekhar of this. He'll surely have some answer. Trying to relax on his sofa, he takes out his phone to call his friend. But as he does so, a call came to him. He looks at the name on the screen as his evergreen ringtone plays.

Prakash the Inspector. Behind the words was a photo of a dark-skinned man with thick, dyed black hair and a trim, handlebar moustache.

He remembers setting that name for the man once he got promoted and became in charge of the local police station.

He takes the call.

"Hello, Joseph. What are you doing now?", a stern but assuring voice speaks from the other side.

Joseph did want to tell him what had transpired. Prakash had not only been a friend, but a family friend since when he was just a boy. However, he was a senior policeman after all, so elected to make himself more coherent first.

"Just got back from work, man. Resting. Why?", Joseph replies trying to feign tiredness.

"Alright." There was a brief but notable pause in his speech. "Hey, I need you to sit down. Just listen."

He says this in a seriousness he only showed very few times. Like when he had to investigate a horrific honour killing or the disappearance of a young girl in which half of the department already had a guess as to what would happen.

He hated those moments.

"Ok.", switching his tone to more somber. "What is going on?"

"You know that librarian guy you're friends with. What's his n-Sekhar. Sekhar Joshi."

Joseph felt a punch in his chest.

"Yes?"

"I am sorry Joseph. He passed away this morning."

Joseph went blank.

"W-What?! How? What happened?!"

"Earlier this morning, his neighbour had smelt smoke coming from his house. The firefighters were called. They broke in…they found him lying on the ground. He had started a charcoal fire in his room. Then we came over."

His words were blocked out by the unease Joseph felt growing inside him.

He had just spoken to the man.

He loved his job.

Why?

"Oh, one more thing." Said the inspector. "One of my guys told me that amongst the charcoal was other things. He seemed like he was trying to burn something. Small bits of books, papers, files. Everything was mostly ash at that point, but something hard was recovered. Looked like the cover of some old book, album, or something…You know anyt-

The words and subsequent realisation hit him like a lorry.

Old book…Album like cover…

The records…

Joseph's eyes immediately go to the stack of papers on his table.

"Hello?… Hello? Joseph?"

"N-no. Oh God."

He wanted to tell. He desperately wanted to tell. But something stopped him. Like a morbid curiosity pulled him away.

"Ok. Take care. Call me if you find anything."

The call cut and in an instant he scrambles towards the stack and begins going through the pages. Skimming through frantically, he finds a new part. Noticing the page was shaking, he quickly opens the nearby cabinet and takes out a bottle of alcohol. Thunder cracks outside and soon rain begins to pour. It would make a great atmosphere for reading if he weren't pissing himself. Downing a swig to settle his nerves, he begins reading:

The Nawab noted the pattern of events and began growing increasingly concerned and discussed with his court advisors what course of action should be done.

Despite this, his palace was still well to do and he still managed to have a feast a few times a week.

To get his mind further off of things one night, he entered his harem to find one of his favourite concubines combing her dark black hair. She looked at him with her dark eyes and slender body draped in fine silk and soon the Nawab finds himself in his chamber having passionate coitus with the beautiful, young woman. In these moments he forgets about the issues as he looked at her fair, slender face and sinks himself into a deep sense of ecstasy. He closed his eyes and looked up, feeling her gentle frame against him. He found himself almost done and goes to look at his lover one more time.

He screamed.

For what he saw in place of the young woman's face was a wrinkled old man with a great beard and grey eyes smiling ear to ear at him. A man so familiar to him and his palace and the rest of the Hamzapur sultanate.

His father.

A man who had been dead for over 15 years was now just below him less than an inch from his face.

He jumped off the bed, collapsing hard to the marble floor, and screamed.

He crawled away on his back till he hit the wall and screamed.

He screamed and screamed and screamed as the thing that was the courtesan put its hands and legs on the bed and raised itself, its gaze not deviating a bit from the mortified visage of the Nawab. It still had the body of the young woman except for his father's face and grey hair hanging from the upside-down grinning face.

It crawled off the bed like a deformed lizard before clambering out the window like a monkey just as guards and servants rushed into the room upon hearing the king's shrieking throughout the palace.

Thuk. Thuk. Thuk.

That was the sound that attracted Joseph's attention to his front door. It was obscured by the rain but he manages to pick up on it.

Joseph puts the papers down and slowly creeps to the door. He remembers locking it, thank God.

Carefully so as to not make a sound, he looks out the peephole.

There is nothing there.

The thunder claps and Joseph figures it's best to keep it closed before returning to the story.

After this incident, the Nawab was left distraught and traumatised. He locked himself in his chambers, only interacting with a select few confidants and only responding to the most important of news. Mostly information on the beast that terrorised him.

A fortnight later, one of the kingdom's scouts returns, reporting of an Imam14 in another state he encountered. The Imam spoke of such wisdom and the scout immediately knew that he was the one who could help.

The Nawab was immediately notified and desperate for any answers at this point, ordered for this mystical Imam to be summoned before him. After days of waiting eagerly and in fear, the man appears in the palace.

A tall, elderly man dressed in green religious attire walked magnificently into the court. His face was elderly but he emanated an air of vast wisdom and power., and focused it with his piercing grey eyes. The Nawab instinctively knew he had found his answer.

Bowing before the King, he introduces himself as Mustafa ibn Abu Sudrak. The King and his ministers explain everything to which the Imam merely listens silently, deep in thought. He later reveals to the king that he has sinned greatly and that the beast, as well as events plaguing the kingdom, were divine punishments from Allah Himself.

The Nawab asked how to solve it. Begged even. Mustafa then ordered him several instructions that need to be followed.

The ritual would begin on the day of a full moon. Until the next full moon, he and his people were to fast, with timings similar to that during Ramadan. During this period, no one is to leave or visit the boundaries of the kingdom. If he completes this successfully, the Almighty will see that he has repented and stop His punishment.

With this, the Imam blessed the tearful King and left.

The buzzing of his phone brings him back to reality.

The photo is of Baashha15 with the words Manikam Auto in front.

Upon accepting the call, he is met bawling and wailing.

"Anna16! Anna! S-Something happened to David! He met with an accident!", Mani screams.

"What!?"

"I-I don't know what- he's in the ICU now."

"Mani!-Mani. Slow do-"

Just before Joseph could covey anything, he hears it.

This time it is very clear.

Thuk. Thuk. Thuk.

Whilst dealing with Mani, he goes to his door and looks out the peephole again.

And again he sees nothing but an empty porch and street.

With irritation growing, he focuses back on Mani.

"Mani! Slow down! Breath. Now tell me. What is going on?

The autorickshaw driver speaks more coherently this time.

"I don't know Anna. I got a call from the church that David was found bloodied nearby of the graveyard. Some people found him and called an ambulance so I drove to the hospital he was admitted at. Oh shit."

"Alright, tell me where was he-."

He was abruptly greeted with the beep of a cut call.

Joseph looks at the phone and right on cue, he hears three knocks on the door in succession.

Thuk. Thuk. Thuk.

Joseph at this point has had enough. He reaches under his sofa and grabs a short stick he keeps for self defence. Stick in hand, the man goes to open the door and confront whatever was at the door. He goes to open the door, grasping the door knob as the knocking starts again. It was at that moment he froze, realising something.

It was a small detail that through the rain was easily missed.

But now that he was right at the door, he notices it.

A detail so small, yet extremely significant.

During knocking, one can usually detect the sound either coming from the top or middle of a door, depending on a person's height.

When the knocking on his door started, it came from the very bottom.

As if the knocker was lying prone to do it.

Joseph looks down. Slowly and carefully, he turns the knob and cracked open the door, allowing only a small space to appear and the door chain made sure of it.

It could have been anything at the bottom. Some animal. A child playing a prank. Even some random adult lying on the ground for whatever reason would have made Joseph feel better.

But not this. Not this at all.

For what lay at the foot of his door was a human forearm.

To make matters worse, it wasn't severed. At least not recently.

Like how an amputee healed, the skin had grown over the elbow region making it look like the limb was always just a limb. And periodically the limb convulsed, its wrist moving its fist in an oscillating motion.

Thuk. Thuk. Thuk.

Joseph could only look down and gasp. As if it could hear, the thing stopped moving. Then, in the blink of an eye, it opens its palm, fully extending its fingers, and faced him. It did so just like those Australian spiders he saw on National Geographic. Joseph reflexively jerks back as the limb turns and using its fingers, scuttles away into the darkness nearby, its arm wiggling behind it like a snake's tail. Not wanting to know where it went, Joseph slams the door, and locks it shut.

At this point, thinking one is losing their mind is an understatement. Back by the sofas, resting on top of the coffee table, was the papers. Those damn papers.

Not knowing what else to do, he runs to the papers, almost as if he found some kind of solace within those words.

In the hours following the advice, the Nawab ordered whatever food to be stockpiled and preserved. This food was mostly stored in large warehouses and granaries. Barricades were also erected to prevent entry and exit along with the number of sentries being increased. The day of the full moon came and the ritual began. For days, people fasted and prayed in their homes as curfew ensued. However, despite being able to eat in the mornings and evenings, people were agitated that the storage facilities were mostly kept exclusive to the royalty, their staff, and the soldiers. Eventually, some try to escape but are caught or killed by the guards. Those would be the lucky ones for those that did manage to flee the soldier had their fate in the clutches of whatever lurked in the wilderness.

It all came to a head however 5 days into the fast. Within one night, almost all the storage facilities were set on fire, destroying a majority of the food supply. Whatever was left was seized and secured by the Nawab's men. This made people distraught, and internal conflicts intensified as well as attempts to flee.

The King, however, is desperate to follow the Imam's advice for if he breaks the rules before the period is finished, the monster will continue to plague the land and him. Therefore, he hardens his heart and increases his crackdowns, leading to the deaths of many.

Food shortage has reached a peak. Famine had begun.

People began dying. Looting and murders were high. Despite this, the royalty and soldiers were kept well fed. But it was only a matter of time before the food ran out even for them.

Cemetery.

Livestock killings.

Famine.

Hunger.

Those words. The connections were being made in his head. He was getting closer.

The knocking returns.

Joseph turns towards the door again. The knocking seems faster. And this time, it came with a voice. It was muffled though by the heavy rain outside. Despite this, it is familiar. But with what he had learnt from the story, it very well could be a trap. Actually, he was sure it was a trap.

Grasping his trusty stick, he rushes to the door and slowly opens the locks. He then throws it open, ready to attack.

Standing there, was…

Mani.

Joseph looks at the reasonably terrified face of the young man as he stood there in a drenched uniform. Coming to his senses, he lowers the stick and went to ask him what he was doing here, but Mani made the first move.

"Joseph are you okay?", Mani said curtly as he steps past the sexton into the house. Mani begins looking left and right, almost as if searching for someone. It was only then Joseph noticed the aruval17 held in his right hand.

Joseph stood there shocked, but he quickly shuts the door remembering the arm.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were at the hospital?"

The auto driver turned to Joseph, appearing satisfied with whatever he was searching for yet wore a confused expression.

"Hospital? Why hospital?"

Mani seemed to notice Joseph's unsettled look and turned towards his machete. He quickly looks around and lies the weapon siding on the sofa.

"Sorry, hehe." He laughs sheepishly.

"Okay. Let me explain. David told me over the phone that you were in danger and to go to your house immediately. Told me someone was threatening you. After Sekhar had died, I didn't want you to get hurt as well. So I rushed over and…brought that just in case. I saw the gate was open and knew something was wrong. Who was it? How many people? Are you okay? Anna! Say something!"

Joseph was confused. He clearly remembered that that gate was closed. But more importantly, was the other thing Mani was telling him.

"David called you?", he inquires.

"Yeah, he called me just now. Where is he?"

"…"

"Mani…"

"Anna."

"David met with an accident. He's in the ICU. You told me that over the phone at the hospital."

His face turned pale.

"W-W-Wuh-What? No! I was driving home. David called me then. I never called you."

The two men stand in silence both taking in what they had just heard. Joseph then looks at the papers. Mani sees him and follows his gaze.

"What's that?"

"I'm still trying to find out as well. Sekhar gave it to me. Just before… Whatever is happening is related to whatever is in that." Joseph pointed firmly at the pile.

They elect to read together as Joseph continues the story.

Famine had the kingdom in its grip and many were left crippled with hunger. People dropped dead and were left where they lay. Many were too weak to go out of their houses.

Even the soldiers, who had once enforced the King's law with an iron fist, now stood with their spears and swords acting more like crutches than weapons. The Kingdom had gone silent. The palace was quiet. Everyone from minister to servant. From soldier to prince. All were made equal by the growling of their stomachs. Not even the Nawab was spared. For he sat limply on his throne. Tired and too parched to give orders, he tried to get himself up. But he was too weak, and the Nawab fell off his throne. It was when this last man collapsed to the ground, his legs unable to carry him any longer, that it finally stepped forth.

A mist, red as fresh blood, moved towards the kingdom. It was much, much larger than the ones before. It descended upon the land moving past the buildings and structures. Out from the thick manifested an army of scavengers.

Jackals. Dholes. Wolves. Striped Hyenas. Vultures. Crows. They marched through the empty streets towards the palace, following closely behind the remnant of the fog. Everyone noted the silence. Despite the crunching of sand and gravel underneath their feet and the beating of wings, they made no other sounds one would expect from this many wild animals.

The Nawab could only listen to the commotion as it reached his courtroom. The mist flowed through the deadbolted door and begin swirling in the centre of the massive room. A soft humming drone filled the air.

Just then, the doors burst open and the animals marched in like a battalion of death, stopping a distance from the mist, and just stood staring at the humans. Just as the king attempts to get on his feet, he hears a sound that shook him to the core:

A bark.

The beasts make their way for another one of them: a familiar brown pariah dog.

Only this time it was draped in a black robe. As it runs up through the mist, it stands in front of the sick and terrified man. It barks at him, the sound almost deafening, and stands on its hind legs. The red mist begins encompassing the dog as it accumulates on its body, morphing it into a vaguely human shape. The black robes slither up and wrap around the being giving it figure.

Soon the mist has all concentrated into the form of a humanoid figure, draped in familiar black robes.

It was at this moment; the King knew nothing could stop what was coming.

He squinted with whatever energy he had left to see the face of his would-be killer. To know what it truly was:

A ragged, burly hermit.

A regal Raja of darkness.

A young maiden.

An old hag.

An angry child.

A wrinkled elder.

A serene Imam.

A mighty, powerful warrior.

A terrifying syaitan.

A wild beast.

Azrael himself to bring him to the underworld.

Or even the Almighty, to deal his final punishment.

Anything to satisfy the desire to know. To put a face to the monster and to direct a curse at something as a final act of defiance.

Joseph gets another phone call. He excuses himself as Mani continues pouring over whatever he had missed.

A few steps away into a corridor, Joseph sees the screen, and his heart slams against his chest.

On the screen was a photo of a smiling moustached man with a hairy chest poking out from his shirt. And in front of it was the name:

David Bartholomew.

Joseph turns back. Mani was still engrossed in the story.

Joseph reduces the device's volume and secretly goes to take the call. A gasping David is heard.

"Joseph! Where are you now?! Listen to me. Do not trust Mani! Do not trust him he's gone mad!"

The urgency in his voice was something he had never heard of before.

"Why?", Joseph responds.

"Mani was leaving with Susila and I was drunk. I said something. I don't know, but suddenly he charged at me and started hitting me hard. I think he hit my head and I was knocked out. Next thing I knew, I woke up and found Susila on the ground nearby. The bastard strangled her! I-I think he killed Rajesh as well. They found him dead at the side of the road with his head smashed in. Joseph, listen, where is Mani now? Do you know where he is?! Hello!"

Joseph could feel his hands shaking.

"D-Davide," he said as quietly as possible, "He is in my house now. He told me that you told-"

David shouts into the phone.

"Joseph get the hell out of there now!!! He's lying! Run!!!"

Joseph, now utterly shaken takes a glance behind him.

He looks back at Mani, who has stopped reading.

Joseph cuts the phone, silencing David's frantic shouting.

Mani begins mumbling.

"I didn't do it. I didn't do anything!"

Joseph walks toward him, with cautious anger.

"Anna please. I didn't do anything."

"What did you not do?", he asks firmly.

"I-I didn't kill anyone. I swear! Please, calm down."

Mani puts his hands up, reversing as Joseph moves further towards him till they are back in the living room.

"Did you lie to me about David, Mani"

"Anna I didn't. I swear I got a call from David telling me you are in danger. I don't know what you heard, but he is lying. Anna, please relax!"

"How the hell can I relax?! My friend is dead. Now I'm being told everyone we met tonight is dead."

"Sar-"

"Now… I remember locking that gate outside. So how did you get in?"

"It was already open I swear. I didn't m-me-mean to scare you. I didn't kill her. I didn't mean to kill-"

It was at this that Mani froze and Joseph loses it.

"You didn't mean to kill who?"

"I-did-didn't do"

"Open your mouth and speak!", Joseph shouts, now furious.

"R-Rajesh."

"Go on!"

"I was driving my auto down the road when I saw Rajesh, I went to say hi. He-He dragged me out of the auto and threw me to the ground. The bugger had lost it and began trying to strangle me. I thought I was going to die. I grabbed a piece of brick nearby and hit him on the head."

Joseph, scared for his life and on edge, grabs the stick.

"I didn't mean to kill him I swear. Anna! Anna! Please."

Mani pleads with him when suddenly his eyes look at something. Joseph tracks his gaze to the machete laying upon the sofa. They both look at each other.

"Don't you think about it.", Joseph warns, raising his stick.

At this, Mani lunges for the machete, upon which Joseph hits him on the head. A loud crack is heard and Mani goes limp. The machete falls to the floor with a clank. All is silent except for the rain.

Joseph realises what he has done and drops the stick in horror.

"Oh Jesus.."

He feels tears begin to well up in his eyes and heaviness grows in the pit of his stomach. He had just killed his friend. The man begins crying. Crying like he had never done before. Through the tears and sobs, he sees it on the table.

The papers. Those damn papers. He wishes to destroy them, he really does, but he remembers Sekhar.

The man went through such great lengths to transcribe this and give it to him. Now with him gone, this was one of his only works left. There on the table. Why would he have given it to him if he was just going to destroy it anyway?

There was something he had to know. Besides, it seemed that he was almost at the end. He had gone so far. No point to stop now.

But he couldn't stay here. He had to find somewhere else to read. Somewhere safer.

So as quickly as he can, he grabs whatever items he will need and shoves them into his backpack. He then grabs the stack of papers and does the same.

He looks at the lifeless body of his drinking buddy one last time, before going to the door. He opens it and finds his path blocked.

He remembers what Mani had said and goes pale yet again.

Susila looked at him confused.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Bu-You-Wh-", words had become unfamiliar to his tongue.

"What are you blabbering?!", she replied, naggingly as ever.

"What are you doing-?"

"Father, Mani was supposed to send me home when David called him. Something they said and suddenly he started speeding to your house. He parked nearby and told me to wait while to took his aruval and ran to your house. I was concerned but he told me to stay put. It did start taking a while so I decided to come here myself. But honestly, are you okay? And where is Man-"

Susila stops abruptly looking past a stunned Joseph. Joseph didn't have to look as well. A look of terror began spreading to her face.

"It's not what you think.", Joseph tried to explain, but Susila was already heaving and turned to run.

Joseph was faster. He threw his bags into the house and grabbed the fleeing woman, gagging her with his hand before dragging her in as well and shutting the door.

Joseph lets go, upon which Susila starts wailing.

"Oh God, you killed him. You killed the poor boy!"

Joseph tries to explain as she stands there in shock and fear and hysterics. He then holds her shoulders hard, stunning her into silence.

"Listen! Please. Things are going wrong and I don't know what is causing it."

Joseph explained to her everything and tries his best to assure her. Susila, seeming to understand, goes to sit down, walking past the driver's corpse.

"Alright." She breathes heavily. "Alright, what to do?"

"We'll get into my car and drive to somewhere safer. I'll call my cousin - the Inspector- and explain all of this. I have evidence that might help us. He'll know what to do."

"Alright. Then what about David?"

Joseph realises David is yet to be accounted for.

"Yeah, I'll call him now. See where he is and tell him to meet up."

Joseph then gathers his bags and begins pacing around as he dials David. He waits for him to pick up. He can't lose David as well. Then he hears something that shatters any strength he had left in him. Any hope. Anything at all.

He hears the familiar ringing of David's phone. In the room with them. Joseph turns towards the sofa where Susila sat. She looks at the sexton before looking at her chest. She reaches into her saree and pulls out the phone. David's phone. She looks at Joseph, smiling, as she gently places the phone on the table. Standing up, she stares into Joseph's eyes with a glare and speaks in the voice of the man he knew as David Bartholomew.

"What's wrong, Joseph?"

Joseph could only stand there and look as the phone in his hands shattered on the floor, stopping the ringing. She smirked and shook her head as she straightened her back. For the first time, he saw her do this.

No bones.

No sound of the cracking of bones as a spine decompresses, but the stretches and sounds of undulating muscle and tissue.

He saw that she was much, much taller than he was ready to accept, her torso stretching her into an uncanny mimicry of the cleaner he once knew.

Joseph suddenly broke out of his terror. His eyes landed on the machete in front of him and he lurched for it, but out from under the sofa came the detached arm leaping out. It extended its fingers again in the spider-like motion but this time it was accompanied by a hissing sound. Joseph also saw that the once human arm had become less human. More flesh was now exposed. The middle and ring finger had the nails grow into fang-like protrusions while the rest of the fingers contorted into spindly legs with a sixth appendage growing next to the pinky to give two pairs of it. In the middle of the palm was an opening that Joseph could only deduce to be a mouth and past the wrist, the rest of the longer forearm ended in a centipede-like tail and coiled like a rattlesnake ready to strike. Joseph instinctively moved his hand away as and the thing grabs the aruval towards it, standing guard. Susila sees this and strides toward the sexton, pushing him into the nearby wardrobe. She hits with such force that the man crashes into the wardrobe, shattering glass all over him before collapsing to the floor hard.

Standing over him, the thing that called itself Susila proceeded to unform; swarming in a wraith of red particles, like ants crawling up and down, shifting mass different parts of the entity. Joining it was the hand creature leaping into the swarm like a child into a loving parent's arms before the mass begins condensing into a more humanoid shape. The saree blouse fell to the ground while the robes began wrapping around the lower half of the entity.

Joseph sat there and watched. This was what that king must have felt. Being paralysed in overwhelming fear.

Joseph's body could take it no longer and he feels a pain in his chest. He collapses to the floor clutching his chest as the entity's form shifts from blood red to light brown. The features also began to take shape, and now standing in front of Joseph was a young man. A young man all too familiar to the sexton. The person who had started everything. He stood there, the saree cloth wrapped around his waist like a makeshift lungi. He looked at the incapacitated Joseph before speaking in a clear man's voice.

"Hello, Joseph."

Joseph could only stare back, gritting his teeth. Begins walking around.

"We'll have to kill you right now, but you seem to have done most of the damage. You know, cardiomyopathy is a very common cause of death here. And with what you've been doing…"

The being knocks down the alcohol bottle on the table, watching it as it shatters.

"Hmph…thinning of the heart muscles, high blood pressure- In fact, you should be surprised how well your blood vessels have held up all these years. Let's change that shall we."

Joseph felt something in the left side of his chest constrict. The words were also becoming muffled.

"I'm sorry, we would have made this quicker but they would find out. What must be done, must be done."

Joseph lay there in frustration. He was going to die of a mere heart attack.

But then he felt something different. The constriction had eased allowing him to hear properly and breathe again.

"However, you are not a bad man." said the figure, "therefore… I will answer anything question you have. I hope the answers will give you peace."

The figure proceeded to sit cross-legged on the floor next to Joseph.

Joseph tried to get up but the man placed his hand on his arm.

"You don't have to. Rest"

Joseph obliges. The memories started to replay in his head. He remembers the conversations of his family about the man in front of him. The cries and lamentations of his loss. He remembers the anger caused by his body disappearing from the morgue. The anguish of no proper burial. He remembers Prakash spending night and day trying to investigate despite just joining the force. At the age of 16, he remembers deciding to work with him. Their investigations. All leading to this moment. To find the cause of his brother's body's disappearance.

"Did you take him?"

The entity replies stoically.

"Yes"

Joseph feels a flash of anger, but it quickly subsided as he realises there must have been a reason.

"Why?"

"We were hungry. We needed food. Desperately. We happened upon a mortuary and…well… his body was the only one in the open."

"T-That's it?"

"It was just a matter of place and time and situation. I had no ulterior intention. I am sorry for the pain that has been caused."

There was a brief silence.

"If it makes you feel better, the remains were buried. Properly. The policeman will also know. He will collect them."

Joseph remains silent in thought before he nods. Despite everything, he was at peace. He could now accept his fate. But he had one more question.

"Who are you?"

The entity smiles at the sexton and touches the side of his neck. He flinches at the pinprick and felt liquid flowing in. It was warm. Then he saw it. He saw it all. Tears fill his eyes.

The entity removes his hand and speaks.

"Rest well. Jose."

He continues saying things but to Joseph, the words were starting to slur now. Joseph could only make out the rhythm of the voices. Sounded like a hymn or mantra. Or it could have been whistling. He wouldn't know as the sounds grew fainter and fainter as the darkness took hold.

The figure sat over the body of the sexton. Upon finishing the chant, he placed his hand on the man's head before closing his eyes as he got up.

Joseph was a good man. All he ever wanted was to find answers. He and Prakash.

Turning away from the body, we looked around the well-decorated house. Walking past the two bodies on the floor and shattered glass, we made sure the door was locked and walked into the corridor. The corridor lead to a room which we opened. It was Joseph's bedroom. Inside other than the bed and small shrine for Jesus was a table full of files and documents stacked on top. We then began intently observing the vast quantity of research and investigation sprawled across the walls opposite and adjacent to the table.

Filled poststick notes. Maps with pins anchoring strings that lead to other pins.

Pictures of burial grounds. Carcasses. Body snatching incidents. Livestock killings patterns. Scavengers.

Newspaper clippings from across the world from standard papers to fringe tabloids.

"Local man's body stolen from mortuary in Tamil Nadu."

"Balochistan farmers brace for torrential rains amidst a rash of livestock killings."

"DEADLY HELLHOUND SIGHTED IN NK. OMG!!!!"

"Coroner suspended over fire at barrack mortuary."

"The Locusts of Jaffna - Fact or Fiction"

"German serial killer still at large."

"Suspended Korean military coroner dead in suspected suicide, says police chief."

Scriptures even from various cultures:

The folklore of the غول .

Mark 5:9… heh even that.

Shiva Purana.

Aghori-History.

BG Chapter 10, Verse 29.

The 71st Spirit. The man had gone everywhere.

煙々羅 .

For a sexton, the man has done quite the investigation. So much hard work. He could have easily been one of their agents I tell you. Shame it has to be like this. We looked at the clock on the wall. 3:15 am. There was a lot of work to be done.

But alas, that wish was not granted to him for when he gazed upon the visage, there was nothing to identify. A surging mass of featureless red was all he could see. Yet he could feel it staring. Not the stare of one angry man though, but the wrath of an entire crowd, focused directly at him.

The Nawab felt fear. Not only of the being but its pantheon, for the animals began to become more gaunt and ghoulish before him. Then came a sound from the being, a sound that couldn't be produced by a man or beast. A sound produced by the vibrations of countless particles, like the sea crashing upon the shore. Countless vibrations that were synchronised to emit a particular sound. A sound that when listened to, created a word. A word unmistakable to the dying king.

"H U N G E R."

As if on command, the beasts ran amok through the palace and out to the rest of the kingdom. They entered homes and chambers, ransacking pantries and farms; in search of anything to satisfy their hunger. Not even a grain of rice, a blade of grass, or a stray louse was spared. So ravenous was their hunger that they rammed and lodged themselves into food and fed from within. Some even forwent their forms altogether, dispersing into clouds of red like ghosts or became other foul abominations of beasts, and encompassed food whole or tore them apart. But for our dear Nawab, his fate was at the mercy of the being. And the being was a not merciful one bit.

Legend has it that the only thing that could be heard in the kingdom on that dark fateful night was the howling of the canines, the shrieking of the vultures, the cawing of the crows, the cackling of the hyenas, the humming of flesh, and the screaming of men.

The figure looks at the paper one more time, impressed by the writing, before casting it into a small bonfire he had made in the outskirts, just as he did with the others, finally removing any written evidence there was of that day and of that wretched place.

Secrets. All to ashes. That leaves only us.

And you.

See you around buddy.

Footnotes

1. A kingdom in South India between about 1690 and 1855, and was under the legal purview of the Nizam of Hyderabad, until their demise. They initially had their capital at Arcot in the present-day Indian state of Tamil Nadu.

2. A realm in southern India, traditionally believed to have been founded in 1399 in the vicinity of the modern city of Mysore.

3. A royal title indicating a sovereign ruler, often of a South Asian state, in many ways comparable to the western title of king.

4. Prayer beads, made from the dried stones(pyrena) of stonefruit, used by Hindus (especially Shaivas), as well as by Buddhists and Sikhs.

5. a large stick

6. One of the ancient transverse( side-blown) flutes of Indian classical music, used in South Indian traditional music.

7. A small sect of ascetic Shaiva sadhus that engage in post-mortem rituals.

8. Any holy person in Hinduism and Jainism who has renounced worldly life.

9. The secret removal of corpses from burial sites.

10. An Afghan empire that was founded by Ahmad Shah Durrani in 1747 and spanned parts of Central Asia, the Iranian plateau, and South Asia.

11. Legendary evil beings, from Islamic folklore, that rob graves and feed on corpses

12. A demon or unrighteous spirit in Hindu mythology.

13. Slang term for an autorickshaw.

14. Most commonly used as the title of a worship leader of a mosque, though also means an Islamic religious leader that may lead worship services, lead prayers, serve as community leaders, and provide religious guidance.

15. The main character from the titular 1995 Indian Tamil-language action film which became a pop culture icon.

16. A respectful term in South India used to address men older than oneself. Literally means "elder brother"

17. A type of billhook from southern India