OBLITUS PART-I

PART-I
Forgetting things, a common practice among old fellas. Well, not specifically them. We can all forget things. And many a times, you may pass it off as a joke but heed, my friend, heed to the words I pronounce next. Forgetting things can become a problem, a bad one and it can land you into some really, really bad mess. No contradicting that.
This story is set in Basilay.
There slept Jacques in his little house, no parents no brother no sister. But he did not grieve for them anymore, he couldn’t. He was short of tears; he could not shed any more. Seven years ago, the house in which hovered only gloominess now, there was some happiness. God, there was only happiness, Jacques thought sometimes as he thought of them. He had both a brother and a sister to turn to whenever he felt anything bad. He had heard a lot of them fellas out there saying to each other they would always look after each other and care for each other but he doubted any of them really meant it. His family, though, they did not pretend. They did not make declarations that they loved each other. The three siblings consoled each other in a way that a person really feels better, not just saying sweet things. His brother Jimmy and his sister, Jesse. He had lost them all because of the fire. The fire that destroyed so many lives.
He remembered that day, Jacques was getting ready because they were going to the theatre. He had overheard his parents talking.
“But Bill, he could have tried better. He should have tried better,” his mother said.
“I know, but the damage has been done. We can do nothing now,” his father replied.
He decided not to hear anymore. His mother had told him that eavesdropping was a bad habit.
They reached the theatre. They were watching the movie when a man came from the exit gate, shouting,
“Fire! Fire, run for your lives! It’s spreading!”
So, they ran. But Jacques, he had been a slow runner all along. His father picked him up. They were just at the exit when his father stumbled but almost pushing him outside in the process. None of them were lucky enough to survive, even with burn marks on their face.
He stayed inside his house most of the time. No work. He only went outside to get some food. He thought that the children in the neighbourhood had honoured him by entitling him, ‘Monster’.
Sometimes, he sighed thinking that he was only twenty-seven. So young, he was not supposed to think of these kinds of things. He even thought of going outside, try to find work. But it was too late. He was too much into the dark. The next day, however, he would make the longest journey he had made in years.
He woke next morning, opened his fridge and saw that he had to get some bread. He changed his clothes. He twisted open the door and saw it, lying like as still as a log of wood. It was a body, pale. Jacques stared at it wide eyed. It looked familiar. He had seen this man somewhere before. Was someone playing some dirty prank? But what seemed incredulous to him was that it was nine in the morning. No one had observed it by now. However, he could not take it to the police, he had been in trouble with them in the past. They would question him and though he did not remember how, but he knew this man. This would be a question the police would ask him. What if someone was blackmailing him?
He looked around. The street in front of him was almost empty, only some of the people in the neighbourhood watering their plants. He would have to take this man somewhere and there could not be a better chance to make his act. There was no one around. He would not be noticed by anyone. But where? Where would he take this man? He could only think of one place. The Vetiti forest. It was a place which Jacques and his siblings called ‘The Devil’s Hiding Place’ when they were young. Very few people went there. It was like that forbidden place in horror movies. Except that it was real. It remained dark at all times and allowed only fragments of light to fall on the ground. He bent down carefully to pick the body up and was bewildered to see a tag hanging from its wrist. On the tag was written, Bram Durand. Of course, it is the name of the man, Jacques thought. He knew him, this man and now he was certain of it. He also remembered that whatever was between them was not good.
And so, there he stood. At the beginning of the nightmare, at the entrance to the forest. He decided that he would go into the forest and come out before the clock struck twelve. But he had to go deep, otherwise someone would find it and……. whatever would follow would be unfavourable. He walked fast, almost ran. He had made a long way when he started panting. He was not used to this, running. The last time he had run was perhaps when he had raced his brother a long time ago. He decided to make camp, sleep for some time and then walk on further and this he did. Then it occurred to him where he would keep the body. He had brought a back pack with him and put the body in a coloured long bag which would not seem odd to anyone who saw him, at least not odd enough to speculate that he was carrying a dead body. He did not have to go over a long distance to reach the forest after all.
However, he felt a strong urge to rest. So, he sat under a tree, keeping the bag with the body at some distance; he could not sit beside a dead body. The mistake that Jacques made was that he lost track of time. He was very much lost in thoughts and it was after a while when he realized that it had been almost twenty or thirty minutes that he had been resting. He hurriedly got up and opened the bag to check if the body was still in it. And so, it was. Just not of the same man. Jacques gasped in horror as he saw that there was not Jacques Durand but someone else inside the bag, also there was a tag on this man’s wrist. On it was written, Cher Hoffmann. It was crazy, he knew it but this man also had an uncanny familiarity. Perhaps better than Jacques. He started sweating. This was not good, not good at all. It seemed like he was walking towards his past in some way. Someone knew about him and was messing with him. Threatening him.
He walked further and further until it was four in the afternoon. It was extremely dark. That was how the forest was, getting dark already. And though he had never been in here except maybe once, he knew that he had covered only quarter of the forest’s width yet. Anyone could come here and locate the body. His doing would be undone. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by a feeling of sorrow. He was in a bad position. If he lived further, he would always remember that he had hidden a body in a forest whose skeleton still may exist. It was as if his legs refused to give him support and he fell down in grief. Why was he chosen? Why only him?
He sat there for perhaps one hour when he stood up again, wiping his tears. That was when he heard someone. People were talking, somewhere in the distance. There was also a fire for smoke was rising. He moved a little closer to the sounds. These voices were familiar. Was it-? He ran in the direction from where the sound was coming.
And so, there in front of him stood two chairs on which sat two people with their backs turned to him. In front of the people was fire. One of them was a lady and the other was a man.
“But Bill, he could have done better. He should have done better,” the lady said.
“I know, but the damage has been done. We can do nothing now,” the man replied.
Jacques walked towards the chairs.
“Mom, Dad. Who are you talking about?” He asked quietly.
Silence.
“Mom, tell me.”
Then slowly the woman turned around. Her features very unclear in spite of the light of the fire. He could only detect her expression, grave and disappointed. She got up and came extremely close to Jacques.
“Why, Jacques. You are here! You are here to rescue us, aren’t you?” The lady said.
Silence.
Then the man turned around too.
“We were talking about you. You should have tried more. But we are ashamed of you, son,” the man said.
“What are you ashamed of, dad?” Jacques asked.
“Why, son. You left us. You left us to die. We yearned for help and you left us to die.”
“Dad, Mom. What are you talking about?”
“What are we talking about?! You ungrateful vermin! You are here to rescue us! You are here to save all of us!” The lady roared.
“Why are you talking to me like that, Mom?”
Both the lady’s and man’s faces were clearly visible now. The man’s face was burnt on one side but the lady’s face had scars everywhere. The grave look on the lady’s face changed into a smile. Her jaw started shaking uncontrollably.
“Oh! I am sorry. I should not have talked to my dear son like that. But you have to rescue us.”
“Listen to your mother!” The man shouted.
Jacques kept quiet and kept looking at his parents. They were shouting madly at him and his mother pushed him so hard that he fell on the ground.
“Get away! Get away from me!” Jacques cried.
“You will suffer!” The lady screeched.
Then, as if they were being pulled back by some force, the lady and the man fell into the fire and the fire itself vanished.
This was more than enough to scare Jacques. He ran back, leaving the tent and the body. He would willingly surrender to the police; just to escape this thing that was after him. Evil.
That was when the real nightmare began.
As he ran back, he saw fire again and also there were four or five people around it. He hoped these were right folks. Anyways, he did not have any other option other than to pass them if he wanted to leave the forest. Maybe they were having a bonfire or something. He ran faster.
Finally, he stood only a few feet away from the people. Something told him he had made a mistake. A bad one. These people were not at all having a bonfire. What it seemed to Jacques was that this was some kind of ritual. The people were standing around the fire. They put their hands straight in the air and leaned towards the fire slowly. Eventually, their fingers locked around one another’s and connected. Then they started moving around the fire. Their eyes were closed. They wore only leaves and grass on their waist. This really was like a movie. These kinds of stories were the ones which people whispered into their children’s ears.
They started chanting something and as time passed, their pace started to get faster. Their chants also got louder and louder. They were speaking some other language.
Jacques was horrified to see that blood started spurting out of their whole body. The blood had by now kissed the ground and was spreading, it was nearing his feet. He was just about to run but when he looked up, a man was standing near him and was looking at him. His face was covered with blood.
“Jacques Cape, you will have to pay for your sins,” one of them said and stepped out of the circle.
The man grabbed Jacques’s arm and dragged him to the fire.
“Pay!” The man shouted.
Jacques was just about to fall into the fire when he shook himself free from the man and ran off……….
He finally stood inside his house. Safe. He rushed upstairs and pulled open the window. He could see the forest, but there was no fire. There was nothing Jacques had to run from anymore. Then heard a voice,
“Brother, you could have saved us. You should have saved us.”
He spun around to see no one there. He looked under the bed, horrified.
God, what is this?
A black slimy figure was moving under the bed, shaking. It spread outside and took the form of his sister, Jesse. She looked at him with hope.
“Dad saved you. Why did you not come back? You are the reason for our death. Now, it is your turn.”
Jacques kept quiet. Jesse stepped towards him and straightened her hands in front of her. Jacques closed his eyes. She didn’t have to do it; he would do it himself.
TO BE CONTINUED......
STORY CONCLUDES IN PART-II