Horror

Pandora's Imagination

A home for eclectic artistry

Pandora's Horror means simply blood, guts, zombies, and vampires and anything with a serious FEAR, CREEPY or anything with a  downright up-chuck affect.  Anything that has a pagan element or magick would work at this site, in this catagory.  Please note; this is not an e-zine for my work. We need your best creep factor, your best zombie eating most frightning tales you can come up with, else, I have to fill in. This should give you a good OMG.

The Toyol

by; Kerry A. Morgan

Sara gathered her things in earnest. This was to be her first sacrifice and she wanted everything to be perfect. Long red tresses graced her delicate shoulders as they bustled about the cabin. She wanted to join the coven, that was for sure. “Getting pregnant was rather pleasant“ She mused. Sara spent three evenings during her most fertile time visiting the different men of the order. When she’d gotten pregnant, she hadn’t wanted the child, but as her belly grew and movements woke her up in the middle of the night, it became hard to reconcile the next goal. “How can I give you up?” She whispered to her baby. Secretly, in her heart of hearts, she wanted to keep her baby. “No matter.” She resigned. She’d made her decision and now it was time for the ritual that would take her child from her.

“Toyol.” She whispered. The name promised great things. She placed a hand over her baby bump and smiled. She was not six months along, yet it was almost too late for the Toyol to enter the child and still live. Touching one hand to her hair she wondered, “Will you have red hair little one?” She shook the thought away violently. It wouldn’t due to be thinking about what a demon would look like. Besides, once the Toyol entered her child, it wouldn’t be her child any longer. It would belong to The Coven of the Black Rose. The Black Rose being her child, donated to the Toyol. Her movements halted, she considered receiving the honor. “I was very nervous.” She told her child, rubbing her belly in large circles, “There were several other women who wanted to give of the greatest gift. I wasn’t sure if the elders would pick me at first, everyone had brought gifts for the elders except me. I was too poor.”

Her thoughts returned to that night and the Elder Most High and how his deep red cloak intimidated her. “My nerves almost got the best of me when I saw the Elder Most High. I wasn’t sure what he would do when I showed up empty handed, little one.” Sara spoke to her belly. Though maybe that convinced the elders to pick her. She only had a child to give. Never did she think she would want to keep the baby, but now, she wasn‘t so sure anymore. Sara stood before the wooden door to her cabin pushing regrets down into the little black box of her heart, grabbed her small bag with over night things, scooped up her plain brown skirts and hurried out.

As she scurried along the dirt road a crisp October wind lifted her thin red hair creating knots and ruining the one hundred brush strokes she’d spent an hour on. Using her slim fingers in similar fashion as her bristle brush, she tried to smooth her hair down, but quickly gave up and left it to the breeze. Sara was so excited about the ritual she just didn’t care any longer what she looked like. By the time the ritual was over, she wouldn‘t be concerned about her hair any longer anyway, The Toyol would be demanding  attention. She considered if a demon child ever got hungry. The thought of a demon-child suckling at her breast graced her with a shiver. “Oh quit, Sara.“ She scolded herself for thinking such things.  Sara was acting the part of parent already with all her admonishments.

The dust of the dirt road coat her throat like the slow burn of liquor. Coughing, she sighed in relief when she saw the log cabin just ahead. (48) Peeking through two glass windows, a soft yellow glow welcomed her arrival. The Coven members would be inside and anxious to guide her through the catacombs hidden underneath. Her awkward waddle quickened, matching the pulse in her throat.

Before she could lift a pale hand to knock on the old wood of the door, it opened up before her. A stern woman cloaked in darkness welcomed her in taking her bag right from her hand. “Thank you, Mam.” She whispered and made a poor attempt to curtsy.

“There’s no need for that.” The woman retorted, her ebony skin tightened with a slight grin. Dark hair wrapped in a tightly woven bun accentuated Martha’s black eyes and weathered skin. The Malaysian woman was a stunning beauty, if not a little worn with age. “These men will show you to the wash room, you will be expected shortly.”

Sara nodded and grabbed at her skirts as two more men in long black cloaks came to her side, each taking an elbow to guide her further. Feeling more like a captive or prisoner  she was led down a hall and shown the indoor washroom. The door slammed behind her and she was left to her business, wondering why she didn’t feel like the queen they proclaimed she would be, by creating the body for the Toyol.  “Maybe they are as nervous as I am, Baby.” She whispered to her child. It wouldn’t do to have the coven members over hear her talking to their God, but at the same time, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from acknowledging the child within her.

The cabin was one of the few homes which had an indoor wash room. There was a table with a wash basin, a plain cream colored ceramic pitcher held water she could use next to it. Sara rinsed her face, stealing sips of the precious water so she could swallow again. She pat her face dry with a cloth left next to the basin and proceeded with the rest of her business. Before she was finished someone knocked on the door. “Just another moment please, it is difficult in this…” she searched for the right word, “state.” Finishing quickly, she smoothed down her skirts and exited.

The two men were waiting for her outside the room. Taking her by each elbow, they directed her to another room where they allowed her to sit, and promptly left, locking the door behind them. Sara fought uneasiness. The coven warned her about doubts and what they would do to her, or worse, what the Toyol would do to her if she seemed to doubt her sacrifice. She wanted to become a respected member of the coven, more than anything else, so she squished her fears back down and sat on her hands so she wouldn’t fidget.

Sara sat in the room alone for close to an hour before someone unlocked the door and walked in carrying a thick wooden goblet filled with clear liquid. She accepted the goblet grateful for its contents. She did not recognize the person, but was thankful they did not lock the door behind them. Sara sipped the mead, a wine made of honey, and enjoyed the lazy effect it had on her mind, knowing it was almost time.  

Just as she finished the last of the mead, the two men in black cloaks opened the door and waited for her to join them. She gathered her brown skirts, white petticoat underneath, and was escorted down a dark hallway to a kitchen. It was a simple room, and was the source of the soft candle light she had seen coming up to the cabin. There was a single table in the center of the room, a cast iron stove and a cold storage cubby dug into the floor next to it.

Martha stood off to the side and directed the men with her black gnarled fingers to move the table, as silent as the evening grew outside. They lifted the table in one graceful movement to reveal a multicolored braided rug. Each man grabbed a side of the rug, and moved that, uncovering a trap door hidden by the rug. One of the men grabbed a black iron rung and lifted the trap door assaulting the air with a loud high pitched screech.. Sara shifted on her feet. The baby moved inside her as she turned to climb down a wooden ladder descending a little askew to make room for her belly, into the darkness below. Martha followed them down and closed the trap door the darkness was total and complete.

Sara heard a match and a torch burst to life chasing the darkness back into corners made of limestone and feldspar rock. Martha’s authoritative look drove the men to take hold of Sara’s elbows to guide her steps down a medieval looking corridor. Black iron rings held torches which the men lit as they passed. The physical metaphor was not lost on Sara. She was lighting the way for the rest of the coven, just as her baby would light the way for the Toyol. Sara squelched her uneasiness at the close confines of the corridor knowing the journey would be worth it in the end. She kept her mind busy with thoughts of gifts and roses, and a life fit for a queen, the Mother of a demon, though the walls of the corridor with their peaks and valleys played with the shadows cast by the torch light. Sara’s eyes darted back and forth. Those shadows looked to be grabbing at her, centering around her belly. The sound of their footsteps crunching along the packed earth beneath her own bare feet gave her shivers. Sara’s heart was pounding but she dared not speak. Martha’s determination was a palpable force she wasn’t willing to disturb again.

When they reached the end of the corridor the four entered an enormous cavern, streams of iron stained water cascaded down the erratic shapes of limestone and sedimentary rock. There was a chill to the air, and Sara hoped she wouldn’t be required to remove all of her clothing. As the men guided her to the center of the cavern she tried to catch glimpses of the members of the coven, there to watch the ritual and greet the Toyol. She already knew there were six men, from her earlier encounters. She counted six women by the color of their deep green cloaks. When she was greeted as a member, she would become the thirteenth, which would complete the coven. The men wore the same pitch black cloaks as the others who had escorted her. The floor seemed to have been hammered out by hand, her bare feet slapped gently in cold water as they led her to the alter in the middle of the cavern. It was a stark contrast to the dry air the corridor provided.

The altar consisted of a large gray stone slab, splattered red with water and iron. The far edge of the slab was tilted upwards, not so much that she would fall off though, but even if she slipped, there were two iron rungs she could place her feet into at the opposite end of the slab. As the men helped her up, she lay her head against the stone and waited. Heart pounding, she watched as another member brought a rectangular red cloth to the altar, holding it out for the two others who were lifting her skirts to her waist, and bending her knees to spike upward placing them into the iron rungs. The cold of the iron stung her skin. Her knees were parted and the red cloth was draped over her shining pale belly.

Sara couldn’t keep her legs from trembling. She felt vulnerable and as open to the world as she looked. The members of the coven began to chant in a language unknown to her. The methodic rhythm soothed her nerves and made her eye lids heavy.  She began to drift until she felt a cold object touch her lower abdomen. The chanting grew louder as a man in the red cloak of the Elder Most High, moved to her side. His image blurred above her, and Sara felt a sharp pain slide across her belly. She gasped and started to lift herself but hands held her down against the cold slab. Her vision wasn’t working, the world was fuzzy and dark around the edges.

Sara blinked rapidly as she felt a warmth sliding down her sides. A zipping sound invaded her ears as she felt movement right inside the center. Something heavy was removed from her body, and she sensed its loss immediately. Sara tried to focus her eyes on her baby, as hands lifted her child away from her. Tears escaped from her heart, though she squeezed her eyes to keep them from flowing.

The men in black cloaks took the child and placed it into an extra  large mason jar, filling it with a clear liquid. Before the clear liquid covered the child, Sara’s own blood was added to the potion gathered from the center of her being, and the brass lid was screwed on tight. Sara had made her sacrifice. She smiled and waited for the members of the coven to sew her up, so she could watch the arrival of the Toyol.

The members chanting had continued throughout the whole ritual, and proceeded to enter into a frenzied state. As soon as the child had been placed into the jar, the members started moving the circle in a clockwise motion, twisting and turning, their hands flipping back and forth in the air. Their robes darkened with their passage through the stained water barely splashing in their movement. Voices rose and sounded jubilant, triumphant.

Sara tried to speak. She was in pain and was still bleeding left atop the alter as the members danced around her with their prize lifted above their heads. The coven members danced around and around calling for the Toyol to enter. Sara’s legs began to drop, which soaked the red sheet to black where her opened torso bled. Sara reached for the jar as they brought it close to her face, having danced in a large spiral to the head of the alter.

Her eyes found her baby’s which were open and looking back at her. Sara’s fingers reached out to touch the glass as the child’s lips, still blue, opened and shut as if trying to speak. The glass of the jar was cold, and she wondered how the child could survive. Sara had lost a great deal of blood, and attempted to ask if she could be sewn but the members were ignoring her pleas.

They were all gathered around her staring at her in silence. The Elder Most High approached her with a large knife, the edges still stained with her blood. He brought the knife close to her ear, and sliced a lock of her beautiful red hair. He then walked to the center of the alter and very slowly began to lift the red sheet which pulled at the skin of her torso. Sara felt tremendous pain rip through her body as she watched the man dip her hair into her center, coating it with her own blood. He let the sheet fall against her and began chanting, walking slowly to the jar, as another member unscrewed the brass lid.

The man in the red cloak, Elder Most High, lifted her lock of hair to the cosmos chanting loudly, then dropped it into the jar, as the other member replaced the lid. He continued to chant, holding the knife high above her chest, his intention made quite clear to Sara. She kept her eyes trained to her son’s dark blue eyes, without any pupils and whispered, “I loved you“ as the blade was slammed into her chest. Sara bucked and reached for the blade as she expended her last breath.

The child in the jar blinked.

The chanting returned to a fevered pitch as pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters were tossed into the air to land where they may. Elder Most High, removed his hood and directed the others with a gesture to do the same.

He lifted the jar containing the Toyol high into the air and addressed the coven. “Come and bring your gifts. Lay them at the foot of the altar. Come, Come and pay homage.”

Several members broke away from their dance and began bringing their gifts to lay at the base of the altar. When all the dancers had passed, the Elder Most High lifted the jar high above his head. “Hail Toyol. Hail. What would you ask of us, your humble servants.”

The child in the jar opened its eyes and grinned jagged little teeth to form a word. A tiny pale finger lifted and pointed to the alter. “Mother.” The Elder Most High heard.

“As it is asked, so shall it be.” He recited, bringing the jar with the child over to the alter. The man set the jar within the dead woman’s arms, lacing her fingers together to keep the child safe. The group raised their hands and chanted, “As it is asked, so shall it be done.’

There was a large crack of lightning just as the woman laying upon the alter gasped for air. “Asked, and obeyed, Lord Toyol.” All the members were on their knees bowing before the woman and her child.

Sarah returned to life whole and unblemished holding her child trapped within the jar tightly. “Hail Toyol.” She whispered. “I love you. Whatever you wish, will be my command, for you will not be my servant, but I yours.”

To the prostrated group she announced, “Where am I to receive your requests?”

The Elder Most High nodded to her, asking Sarah’s permission to rise. “You may approach.” she replied. Sara was angry and none pleased with what could have been her demise. She kept her face like stone to the members of the Coven of The Black Rose.

The man lifted himself from the cavern floor and approached her with care. “We have a room for you prepared, this way.” he said, gesturing and prostrating himself before her to another stone hallway. Sarah followed the man who had just killed her, without trust. They passed under a large stone slab just barely high enough not to scrape the top of their scalps, and entered a new cavern. This cavern was half the size of the previous and the sound of water trickling down the walls came from everywhere, though no water was visible.

The Elder Most High hid his face within the shadow of his red cloak, and directed her to a large stone chair with a single deep red velvet blanket draped over it. “We have prepared this for the Toyol, Mistress” he said, gesturing to the chair his nerves visible in the shaking of his hands.

Sarah, stroking the jar like a favorite kitten, settled into the chair and whispered to the jar with the child in it. “This man had no intention of letting me live. He murdered me, my child, but I am here now. They intended you to be their slave, but I will protect you. You will be no one‘s servant-demon.” The child’s eyes went wide, the deepest blue of the iris turning black. He looked at the man in the red cloak and pointed a tiny twisted finger in his direction. The Elder clutched at his throat, gasping for air. He dropped to one knee, choking, his face turning a deep crimson, to purple, until he fell to the floor.

The man’s mouth opened and a small orb of golden light drifted up out of his mouth, and floated over to Sarah and the Toyol in the jar. It hovered over the lid for just a moment before dropping right through and into the child’s mouth. “There, there, my love.” Sarah murmured to the jar sitting in her lap. “No one will ask anything of you my child. You will be a King, and have command of servants. Maybe he should be the first.”

With those words, the man in the red cloak, raised to stand before the mother and child. He removed the cloak from his head to reveal a dark gray face, with eyes covered by a white film. His lips were next to colorless though he moved them slightly as he lifted his pale gray hands turning them over in supplication to the child. “What would you have me do?” He spoke in a garbled voice.

The child in the jar looked to his mother and mouthed words. Sarah then answered the man, “Bring the coven members in one by one to receive their gifts.” The man bowed to Sarah and Toyol, and left to fulfill her request.

Within minutes, one of the woman who danced around Sarah taunting her as she lay on the alter dying, entered the cavern. She stood before Sarah eyes full of love and adoration, now, unable to hide the quiver from her body.

“Blessings be upon you Michelle Gardner, whisper your greatest desire to the Toyol, to be rewarded for your devotion.” Sarah commanded.

As the woman bent close to the jar, the child pointed its index finger at Michelle and she dropped to the floor, convulsing. Sarah watched feeling detached from this woman, a cold settling in her heart. These people had killed her, before they knew her child would wish for her return. She felt no compassion for these people and would claim them all to her child’s servitude. They would pay, they would all pay for her death, and their desire to rule her precious child.

Seconds went by and the spark of life left the woman and was given to the Toyol. One by one all the members of the coven gave their lives to the Toyol, to be left with an empty decaying body commanded by the child and his mother.

After everyone had given their gift of life to the Toyol, Sarah stood up, lifting the jar with the child inside high above her head and called out, “Hear me coven of the Black Rose, You are now the servants of the Toyol and He will command your actions, He will command your thoughts, He will demand your offerings. Go now and feed upon the human flesh that you would have fed to Toyol. Gain strength and bring Him gifts! Go, Go now and fulfill your promise.” Sarah swiveled back and forth, showing all the members the Toyol, as they filed out of the cavern, no longer humans, but as zombies needing flesh, to comply with the bidding of the Toyol.

***

Zombies filled the sleepy village each slipping into a house in the dead of night. Sucking the life force out of the townspeople while they slept, biting of the sweetest parts of their flesh. The entire village was dried of life in that single night, as the zombies brought monies, toys, and the precious life force for the Toyol.

The Toyol accepted everyone’s gifts commanding them further. “We are to move to the next village. The Toyol needs more life and you are to find it for Him. He is hungry and will be sated. Go now, and bring back the spark.” Sarah demanded.

The zombies continued their journey from one village to the next, stealing money, toys, and life spark from every living human they came across. These humans died giving their essence to the Toyol, without being recruited into servitude. Night after night, the Coven of the Black Rose returned with gifts, and souls.

Surrounding towns and villages began to hear rumors of terrible creatures in the night that would find you as you slept safe in your beds. They would eat you, and then steal the light from your eyes. The rumors spoke of only one warning. Say your prayers every single night, and plead that you will not awaken to the sound of leathery footsteps scratching across your floor, for if you do, you will loose your soul to, The Toyol.