Don’t look in the corner!
The shaman's voice was deep and foreboding, the instruction issued like a death warning.
Ishan sneaked a peek with one eye opened from his kneeling position to get a good look at the only man in the village everyone feared even more than the king. The king was afraid of him too, as Dada had often said at their night chats by the hearth while sipping his schnapps.
The man was old, silver-haired, his brown skin wrinkly like old faded paper. Leaning on a sturdy, oily cane, and twisting his long black, oiled moustache, he spread some cheese crumbs on the idol sitting crossed leg before us.
Beside the mahogany carved idol were fresh leaves the shaman's servants or shamans-to-be plucked from the forest every dawn before any worshipper visited to make obeisance and present their unending requests that were barely met. After which they would gift the shaman lots of fruits and spices before departing.
Ishan, curious, had watched the routine of this old man especially when worshippers visited. The warning was always the same, uttered in a stern voice that knead the fear deeper into their hearts.
He turned to gaze at his parents, their heads bowed, hands clasped together on their knees, their eyes squeezed shut he couldn't see their lashes. The shaman's mouth moved rapidly, muttering incomprehensible words as he nodded his head, his eyes half open and the whites showing.
Since no one was paying him any attention, Ishan did look in the forbidden corner. It was dark, a shadowy presence with an uneven shape haunched in the corner. He hung his neck to the side and strained to see more, and instead heard a sound.
The murmur of bees.
The hairs on his neck and hands stood on end. The unexpected sound made him turn quickly, facing the cross-legged idol again. Then he met the shaman's gaze, solemn, staring right through him. He slammed his eyes shut and gripped his Mama's hand. She squeezed back gently. He sighed quietly, at peace.
Later that night, she bade him sleep well with a kiss on his forehead, her smell of coconut hair oil and floral talcum powder soothing him. But not for much longer.
A corner of his room immediately darkened, the shadowy presence haunched in it, sucking in the glow of the candlelight by his bedside. His room was going dark and the fear he never felt before sneaking into his mind.
He tried to scream for his Mama but only the the murmur of bees came forth.
Was it spooky enough? I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "don’t look in the corner".
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Image credit: LeoEspina