Your Father Shall Slaughter You

Right on 16 September year 1971, from the breathtaking bird's eye
view from above, the western area of the Jelaska Forest was dense with
nothing but trees. That was before artificial structures of apartments
and other housing kicked in and apparently considered bucolic compared
to the already developed and commercialized southern region. Right at
4.38 p.m., if one were to spy a clearing nearby, he or she would
distinguish out the shape of two standing figures.

It was Clifford and an uninvited visitor.

Clifford was feeding the pigs in his father's pen when he discerned a
stranger slowly making his way through the trees. He poured the
remaining corn onto the feeding plate and hid behind the door to get a
better view of the man. He was practically shocked by the appearance of
such a person - even if there were visitors to his dad's farm, they
could only be the truck driver or Mister Lee who would sell his father
the feed for their stocks.

Besides, his father wasn't at home. He was uneasy about this possible
encounter. His dad had told him about the murderer. There were news
going about on how kids of this region were missing - presumably
forever - for no good reason. Jack was one of them. Jack used to go
with him on their 'mini safari expeditions' in the forest. (No more
expeditions, he thought and shuddered.) Those were happy days. Now, his
dad had been a control freak out of his disquietude, restricting him in
every of his bit.

The stranger's features were now clearly distinguishable. Clifford
could tell he was a very old man and felt a lot better. After all, what
strength can an old man have for that horror?

He showed himself and gave the stranger a 'what-do-you-want'
look.

"Oh! It's you!" said the old man and smiled.

"Who are you?"

"Your godfather!"

He racked his brain over his statement. Did I ever have one? he
thought.

"Don't you remember?" the old man said. Cliff shook his head. "Oh,
never mind then! You were still young when I first met you. Can I have
a look at your house?"

"Er? sure. This way." Clifford didn't know why he agreed to. Perhaps
someone was controlling his tongue. (Or was it him?)

While he was walking back to his house with his 'godfather', he felt
eyes pinned on him. (His eyes?)

The walk took only several seconds, which yet seemed like a year of
painful silence. The sight of his house gave him an aching urge to
return home. All he wanted was to leave this strange and return to the
safety of his home, reading Mickey mouse comics.

"Clifford." the old man's voice was like the rustle of leaves.

"Erm, what?"

"Come and let godfather give you a hug!" the old man cooed.

His features were morphing to an unspeakable symbolism of evil. His
pupils fading to a blinding white, yellow jaws sprouted in place of his
teeth. What once was an frail old man was now a tall dark man in a
robe. Clifford could sense the claws of freezing evil reaching out for
his heart emanating from the stranger (or a demon).

"Wanna see what was killing the kids here?" the dark figure said. "Or
go meet your good friend, Jack, later?"

"You killed Jack." His voice sounded weak and distant. Oh shit, he
thought. Gonna die. I'm dead now? At least before his certain doom, he
understood why the characters in the movies never moved even with the
vampires approaching. (Too scared, boy. Too damn scared.)

"That's right. But you're an exception anyway." Chuckles. "Your father
shall slaughter you, not me!"

For a brief moment, he was convinced that this was a nightmare.
Everything would be back to normal when I wake up, he thought. And my
dad will be calling me to wash the pen. I will be back in my room
reading comics after that. He smiled.

The Demon exploded into maniacal laughter. "Yeah," he said. "And wake
up in hell!"

In the midst of the laughter, Clifford felt a reeling sensation as a
bony finger laid on his shoulder. He felt himself shrinking smaller and
smaller - so small that he could smell a bitter stench of the ground.
The words of the Demon kept playing themselves in his head over and
over again.

"YOUR FATHER SHALL SLAUGHTER YOU, NOT ME!"

***

By the time Clifford's father, Mister John, returned home, the sky had
darkened. The farm was still noisy with the snorts of the pigs and the
cackle of the chickens. Then he saw something lying outside of the pen.
It was a pig. He wondered how could it manage to find a way (He had
examined the pen every week and was sure there wasn't any fault) and
why it was unconscious. Nonetheless, it looked fat and healthy; his
food supply had ran out. Besides, his stomach was rumbling with hunger
after a busy day at the city.

He brought it to the abattoir.