Part 1.
There was girl once upon a time. Once upon a time there was girl. She slept on the wet grass and walked on dark grounds. She was goddess during the daylight and a true evil being at night. She ate fruits during the daylight and feeded upon the innocent creatures at night.
Long raven hair, orbs so dark- the night demanded shelter, long slender neck, dark velvet skin.
The young girl was perched on the only visible rock near the valley river. The sky was covered with grey, angry clouds. It was the month of downpour. The girl had a solemn look on her goddess face. The wind was picking up the calling of the clouds and there was moisture in the cold air.
Silence, yet chaos.
A sweet smell filled the field, the smell of ripe mangoes.
The smell of mangoes made the girl smile. She glanced back and gazed at the mango trees. The trees were laden with ripe mangoes, a tempting invitation for any innocent soul. The girl smiled widely and slowly and sensuously stood up. Her old knee length frock was stuck between both her legs, but she didn’t care. She wanted a ripe mango. Simple, yet dangerous.
Simple but dark. Her desires were mundane, and she had a stubborn mind to fulfil them. They were trash for some folks. Nuisances for some. And some just had those hideous eyes. They could make a woman cry under their gaze.
The valley was filled with people. The population was not an issue. The only issue were some men. They were the hyenas of the society. The women folk were safe only till they didn’t cross the river. What happened across the river, no one knew. No one cared. The women had a warning drilled inside their brains.
“Do not cross the river, the jungle is not a safe place to be. If you go there, you will only feel pain, and screams will be heard”.
A small girl had once asked her mother about this warning. She stood on the window of her hut gazing at the far distance. The tall block of untamed trees were visible for her curious and wide eyes. Her mother smiled warmly at her daughter. She followed her daughter’s gaze.
“The jungle is not a nice place to be”.
The small girl looked up at her mother and scrunched her nose in confusion. The woman tapped her daughter’s button nose making her giggle.
“There are some humans from whom we need to stay away”. The woman whispered softly.
Just like that, each and every woman were trapped within the confines of their own homes. With no further explanation this was the cure of a fearful problem. Humanity was dying down, it was evident. The sole purpose of a particular savage being was just to extract. Extract till the point there was nothing to suck off. The pain of being violated will never be understood by the dominant population of this world.
The little girl stopped any further questions and lived with the warning.
The young girl stopped right beneath one of the mango trees. She craned her neck up and stared at those yellow goodness. Her eyes twinkled like a small baby, her tongue slowly peeped out wetting her brown plump lips. She licked her dry lips, closed her eyes and smelled the mangoes.
She had no care of her surrounding. Her only concentration was eating a mango. Her feet carried her to her want. She effortlessly climbed the huge mango tree and sat on one of the tallest branch.
Her long arms stretched with a velvet glow, she plucked a big mango and snatched it towards her nose. With an inhuman approach she smelled the mango. She grinned loudly, and jumped down the branch, rolling on the dirty grass. Her long wavy hair was spread on the wet grass, her already dirty frock was covered with small strands of wet grass. The girl sat up and savoured the mango. She ate the fruit like her last meal. Her hands were covered with the fruit juice, the corner of her mouth was the resemblance of her crime.
Peeling the mango roughly, yet with a sensual resemblance she licked the yellow juice. Her lips smacked loudly, providing the picture of true, raw passion. Hands covered in juice, pink tongue removing the evidence. She looked like a goddess devouring her offering.
“Mohini...!”
The girl stood up, unbothered by her dress, glanced towards the person. A woman in her late middle age stomped towards the girl- Mohini, and glared at her.
“Amma”. Mohini whispered innocently, melting the anger like liquid.
Grabbing her daughter, the woman left the riverside. Afraid and bothered by prying eyes. Some women, some men.
It was dark, Mohini stood on the window of her hut. Her long raven hair was let down, flowing majestically. She looked back, her Amma was sleeping.
Mohini smiled at her mother’s sleeping form.
She turned her attention back to the darkness in front of her. It was dark and cold, yet the girl seemed content and unbothered.
Mohini was a factor of sexual fantasy, a flower ready to be smelled and the juices ready to be sucked. She was an untamed bird, she flew with her advances. She couldn’t be stopped. Her poor mother was always on her tail, yet there was nothing that could stop Mohini from exploring. She was considered a witch by many. She was not of this world. She was the queen of her dreamland.
There were many claims about her, many scary rumours, and many mysterious and strange stares. If there was something that could withheld Mohini, that was her own will. She was the true epitome of independence. She was the true factor of freedom. She was a wind of jealousy. This young eighteen year old girl was everything, that the female population of the valley wasn’t.
The night was at it’s most darkest phase. The whole valley peacefully sleeping. Amongst the living and also the dead- there wasn’t a single being which could be spotted in the dark. The stagnancy of the valley was dangerously calm and it would not be wrong to consider this as an illusion. The far cries of unseen creatures, the rustle here and there, the imagination of some innocent being falling prey to the cruelty of this dark night- all these were scary and unacceptable for a normal person.
The night was dark, yet it was also home to many unseen and unheard.
Mohini kept gazing at the dark night. The cry of crickets was heard from several directions. The wind was harsh and cold. The young girl was covered in a white cloth, covering her full breast till her knee. Her bare shoulders were thrown upon the sill of the wooden window. The night had grabbed the attention of the tiny hair on her bare hands, yet this young girl was unaffected. She was carelessly leaning on the single window. Her long raven hair was spread like a wide river on her back. She signified eternal beauty.
There was a single coconut tree across her house which was always laden with good coconuts. The wind was swirling the leaves of the trees. Mohini’s eyes shone with a glint as she glanced up at the tree, an unknown strange glint. She stuck her long slender arm and gestured towards a coconut at the tree. Her long slender finger pointed at the coconut. The coconut seemed unbothered. She laughed silently. With a scary look on her goddess face she kept gesturing towards the coconut. The night was dark, yet it did nothing in hiding the evil essence dripping off of the young girl’s face. The innocent facade was withdrawn and fury was reflecting a different story. She lunged from her window and howled deeply, yet the coconut seemed unmoved. The night was turning red, black was turning red. Mohini glared at the coconut, her stare burning the helpless tree.
A beautiful goddess had retired in the form of something evil. Something unexplainable.
Mohini laughed with a shrill cry, when finally the coconut fell on the ground. She mocked the fallen coconut and grinned dangerously. She was losing herself. The dark sky was now bleeding with a loud cry. The goddess was unleashing her power upon the innocent.
A soft and sleepy voice was heard from behind her.
Mohini broke from a stagnant and dirty trance, swirling like the inhuman being she had turned.
She glanced at her mother and instantaneously the inhuman being turned back to a goddess and smiled like beautiful daylight. The woman smiled warmly and gestured her to come inside the warm bed.
Closing the window the young girl padded and lied down beside her mother. Both of them slept with a serene look on their face. Nobody truly a witness.
The trees shook with fear, the wind was trying to find an escape route, the birds cried with no tears. The river rumbled with panic, the leaves scattered on the wet grass. The forest was frightened. The creatures were howling painfully. A long dark arm appeared out of nowhere. The slender fingers snapped with loud noise. Nature stilled. There was dark thick blood. The world whimpered and begged for mercy. The petite figure stood with all her glory, unfazed, untouched and smiling.
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Naiela Omer.
