Lie

John woke up, his eyes wide open. Again, again that sound came floating by…

The sound of wind chimes.

It was the third night. The past two nights, at 2 in the morning, the sound of the wind chimes would come into his room. It seemed that they came from a long distance…from those dark woods…

John went outside. His home stood at the very edge of the village. The woods could be seen clearly from there. They looked dark and menacing. Not a star was up in the sky.

But I couldn’t be wrong, John thought. I cannot make the same mistake again and again.

Or was it because…

Because of Maria?

John distinctly remembered. Oh God, he said. Just because of…

A loud bleating noise suddenly aroused him. It came from the goat shed at the back of his house. He ran over there. It was dark, and the winds howled from the small cracks present in the hay patches…

He lighted up the lantern present there, and gasped at what he saw.

One of the black goats lay there, his body beheaded and bleeding on the floor!

***

‘Are you sure?’ William asked his father the next day.

‘I’m positive. I saw that goat just lying over there, like dead meat!’

William stood near the brook. The father and son had gone fishing that day.

‘Father?’

John replied back. ‘What?’

‘Momma is behind all this.’

‘Don’t.’ John replied back quickly. The memory was too frightening to remember…

Maria and John Easton had been married for five years now. They migrated to England because of the living conditions they had previously. At that time in England, there had been rumors and reports of one thing; one thing which was terrorizing Europe at that time…

Witches.

Those frail, shriveled bodies who would roam about chanting spells…that caused destruction to anyone who came in their way…who worshipped Satan as their god.

One year had passed since they arrived over there. It was back in January, that while returning from work, John saw his wife being taken away for the gallows.

He had rushed over there, pleading with everyone that she was innocent. But then, somehow, he felt a sudden urge to do the exact opposite. For some days, he had been delving in the sinful act of alcoholism. His wife would always shout at him. He couldn’t take it anymore. So, he pronounced the words.

‘My wife is a witch.’

The Court was a bit surprised at this sudden change of words. So, John fabricated that lie into a story, saying that he was seen secretly worshipping Satan, et cetera.

That lie which called Maria a ‘witch.’

John didn’t look at her face that day. But if he had looked, he would’ve seen two, angry flaming eyes looking at him. After an hour, she was burnt alive at the stake, on the barren land in the woods. John recalled to have acted like a maniac after the execution. He drank almost three bottles that night.

Six months had passed by…and just three days ago…

‘Mah-hh-hhh!’

They suddenly heard the bleating of a goat behind them.

‘Father!’ William cried out. John turned to where he was looking, and froze.

It was that black goat – the one which he saw yesterday dead on the floor!

The goat had no signs of injury. It seemed fit and clean – just like any other single goat.

‘Oi Mister!’ another voice suddenly called out. It was Adam Hopkins, their neighbor.

‘Nice goat, this one. Came to our house just this morning. You should keep ’em all under your eye…’

‘Adam, it was dead.’

‘What?’

John told him what happened the previous night. After listening to it, he laughed aloud.

‘Say John, the alcohol alterin’ ya mind, ya know. I can tell you that goat was alive and healthy. You know old man Joe, right? He keeps a strict eye on everyone’s farm. He took special care of you, ya know. According to him, there was no dead animal last night. Got it, John? Good day!’

Adam tipped his straw hat, and walked back down to his house.

John just stared into the distance.

It was all a lie? An illusion, which he suffered yesterday?

Or was it…?

***

William was an obedient boy. He always helped out his father whenever he was in trouble. After his mother died, he became even more protective about his father.

However, he began to see that his father was slowly changing…so was this village.

Just that Monday – the day when they saw the dead black goat come to life once again – while he was picking up essentials from the village market, a shopkeeper had asked him an unexpected question.

‘How’s your momma, Will?’

William was stunned for a moment. The whole village knew that Maria had died six months ago…so, why was he asking this question? Perhaps many might assume that he was new over here…

Only the fact that he had been doing this for 5 years completely disagrees the argument.

‘Sorry, but I think you know that my momma had died 6 months ago…’

‘6 months ago?’ the shopkeeper asked, puzzled.

‘Yeah. Why, you were there. I remember seeing you over there.’

The shopkeeper’s mouth turned into a smile, and then replied:

‘I see you have a knack for playing jokes with others, eh?’

William now began to feel impatient. ‘Wait what? No, you are making a mistake. My momma had died…she was executed for being a witch…’

But still he stared at him with disbelief. William finally gave up and walked up, after hearing to have his temperature checked, telling that he was out of his mind…

That he was lying.

As he walked back by the brook, he began to think about what had been happening over the past five days: goats getting slaughtered only to find them alive the next day, the feeble memory of the village folk, and the sudden short-term memory loss his father was experiencing... (he would do something that minute, the next minute he completely forgot about it)

Not to forget the fact that the wind chimes were still being heard by them at two in the morning.

‘Lie.’ William said to himself. Strange, the three-letter word was getting repeated over and over again. With every incident which was happening, the word kind of haunted it. As he was thus thinking all this, he had reached the very edge of the forest.

And that’s when he heard it.

Wind chimes.

Yes, it was coming from the woods. The old willows howled about in the chilly wind which had now begun to blow. Pulling his muffler around him tightly, he proceeded towards the forest. He had to know the mystery of those chimes…who was it?

As he went towards the east, he found the sound to be increasing. He began to briskly walk towards it. Those chimes…

At last, he reached a barren land, surrounded by the willows. William recognized the spot.

Wasn’t it the hanging grounds?

He looked around. A slight fog was beginning to appear in the woods. The tall willows looked like thin ghosts of some forgotten era…

There was it! William heard it again. The wind chimes! They were coming from the left direction.

He quickly ran over there, and saw – no one.

Just a little boy playing all by himself – he was carrying a flute.

‘Hey you.’ William approached the child.

The boy stopped. He was frightened by the sudden appearance of a man in the woods.

‘Just asking ya.’ William spoke – smiling – ‘were you playing a wind chime some time ago?’

The boy nodded and said, ‘No s-sir. I was playing my flute all by myself over here. I usually do it whenever Papa and Mama go to the fish market for selling the…’

But William wasn’t hearing all of this. His eyes had caught something unusual.

The ten nooses were there, hanging from the trees. The village had made a strict rule to not dispose of the bodies – who died by hanging or burnt at the stake – before a year had passed. Momma was burnt alive just six months ago…

So why was her stake empty all of a sudden?

‘Um, do you see a woman over there? At that stake?’ William asked the flautist. A macabre feeling had begun to form within him…something was out of place…

And it was, for the boy replied back – who was very scared by this time – that there had been no one over there the past two months he had been over there…

William turned back and started to go back.

Not good. A big dark problem had already arisen over them…something which they could not see…

He had the hunch that it was all because of a…

Witch.

A witch which made everything a ‘lie.’

William now froze.

That darned word had again made his appearance over there!

As he walked back through the woods, he felt that he heard whispers…whispers intermingled with that familiar sound of wind chimes…whispers which spoke out only one word…

‘Lie…lie…all lies…lie…lie…’

***

John was sitting at the very end of his bed. He had finally resisted the desire to drink wine, for he knew the bizarre things which were happening nowadays…

The village folk had called him a fool just two days, when he told them – while conversing - about Maria’s death. They had laughed about, and saying him to leave the drink. He’ll kill more people with his imagination!

John looked outside. William had not returned yet. He was growing anxious by the minute. His son should not be out so long…evening was just beginning to fall…

And then, he felt it.

He felt that he had got the answer to all of it.

But, how? John knew that perhaps she was the one who was causing all this. Alright, maybe his son William…

No, no, no. John muttered, she is dead.

Maria was dead. How can she…?

‘WH-A-A-M-M-M!’

Something suddenly crashed onto the windowpane where John was sitting. Glass broke and fell into pieces everywhere. John – stunned by it for a few seconds – got up and looked all around. There was no one. The sky was beginning to turn dark…

He lit the lantern. What he saw horrified him.

A pigeon was lying on the floor, with a noose around its neck. Its neck seemed to have been broken. But the horrifying part about it was that its body was slashed up, in the form of some alphabets…which spelt out:

‘L U G N E R I N J A’

***

‘Lugnerinja?’ William asked Father Thomson. He had immediately gone to his house after he came out from the woods. He had a strong hunch that perhaps the unexplained activities were confined to the realm of the paranormal…so he rushed to the Father’s house for an answer.

(no time can be wasted now.)

Father Thomson opened his glasses, and wiped his forehead. Then, he replied:

‘William, the question which you just asked me that whether there is any supernatural entity that makes everyone lie…or makes the person’s nature lying. This entity takes the form of a witch, by the name of ‘Lugnerinja’. It has the ability to make everything seem an illusion…or a lie. It generally grips hold of that household where a female had been either hanged, murdered, or burnt at the stake, due to a false accusation. It possesses the person who had done the wrongdoing, and creates a stage where, if he sees something happening, it will be a non-occurring event to others.

Suppose, I see you stealing my money from a certain drawer and then running off to buy – maybe – a drink. Once you return, I question you about what you had done. You say that you have not stolen the money, nor gone out to buy that drink, and to my surprise, I find the money still in that drawer – also, the bartender saying that he had not gone over there…

This is the most dangerous power of that witch. It can literally create lies after lies, until…’

‘Until?’

‘Lugnerinja cannot be killed – which makes it one of the deadliest witches I’ve heard about. It kills off the person after 15 days, on a full moon night – either by making the person commit suicide by constantly making him believe everything a lie…or by sending a dead animal – its name slashed on a body – signaling that he has till midnight of that day to escape. Oh, it also has a knack for wind chimes. The wind chimes will be heard by the unfortunate at two every morning. They would come from the deep, dark part of a forest…the woods…’

William felt his heart tap-dance. His throat dried up.

The goat was killed exactly 15 days ago…that means…

That meant only one thing.

The moon was shining brightly in the night sky. William got up. No more time can be wasted now…

‘By the way, why are you asking about it all of a sudden? Interest?’ the old father asked, smiling.

William – in a trembling voice – recalled everything he had been experiencing the past few days. When he ended his speech, the father looked like he was about to run out of fear. He also had a puzzled expression on his face.

‘Where do you come from?’

‘Um, Saxonbury, Father.’

Thomson’s heart gave a huge leap. Staggering, he got up from his chair and went over to William. He said then, as if in a whisper:

‘William, your village had a great flood – just the last month. The flood was so violent that it swept away everyone…no one was spared. But you didn’t hear the news?’

William felt like that he was about to faint. It was not fitting…it was not fitting…

‘We had to go away for about three weeks at a place…’ William managed to reply.

‘You were saved, then. But then…William? WILLIAM!’

The Father shouted out, for William had already rushed out of his house and was running in the darkness…his father…his father…

If he didn’t get there on time…on time…

In the distance, a church bell gave off twelve gongs.

The wind chimes began to be heard again in the Saxonbury woods…

***

John had not slept. He was sitting by the fireplace. He simply didn’t want to sleep.

Something was going to happen today…

(burn for your sins)

Someone was coming…

(burn for your sins)

John was nearly dozing off, when suddenly he heard a voice:

‘John…’

John jolted upright. The voice seemed to come from near the door.

‘W-Who is-is i-it?’

For a few moments there was silence. Then, a figure slowly came into his view. John was shocked.

‘Maria! Y-you!’ John blurted out. He was frozen in his chair.

The lone figure did not stir. The voice again came to him…

‘You lied.’

John didn’t know, but he suddenly felt a lurch in his stomach. It was nearly midnight…

‘Oh, my dear John. We were so happy…so good…yet you lied…you lied about me being a witch…because of your lie, I died…got burnt because for your sin. Well, now look at me John…’

John looked up. He nearly gasped out.

Who was this woman? She was not his sweetheart Maria! There stood a glassy face, with eyes nearly unblinking. She was staring right at him...!

‘Come, John. You shall see what you have sown…look at my eyes, John…’

John now stood up trembling with fear. Who was she? And was her face changing? Why wrinkles were forming on her face…

‘Get off. Get off! You dunno me, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…

But before he could do anything, a strong invisible force kicked him in the stomach, making fall face down on the floor. Also, strong, invisible cords seemed to tie him. He could not move a muscle…

‘Look into my eyes, John…my poor, beautiful, unblinkable eyes John…look John…’

‘AG-AGH-HHHHH!’

John’s face was suddenly lifted upwards, and what he saw make him give out his last scream.

He was staring into a bloodstained face, which had no eyes and was smiling maliciously.

He screamed and then fainted down…

The sound of the wind chimes now merged with an unnerving feminine laughter…

***

William checked his bag once again. Yes, he had taken everything.

He had to run. He could not stay here any longer.

John was dead by the time William had arrived. His body was found slashed, with blood splattered over everywhere. On the floor, there were a few letters written in John’s blood.

‘L U G N E R I N J A’

William immediately had then started gathering supplies from the village. He could not stay even a single moment over here. The thought that he was talking to just phantoms this whole time made him turn numb. They hadn’t heard the news of the flood…so it made sense that they didn’t hear about the village being dead…

But now, he should not think of it. He had already made up his mind to run all the way to the ferry. There he would board a ship to London, and then he would think what to do next…

But no more over here…this village was already dead.

Kept alive only by the lying illusion of the witch.

As he approached the front door, he suddenly felt a presence behind him.

William broke out in a cold sweat. 

‘Who?’ he asked tremblingly.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and in a very familiar voice, someone said:

‘William, I’m here. Yesterday I died, right? That was a lie, old boy, A lie...’

William turned around, and gasped.

Outside, deep within the Saxonbury woods, the familiar sound of wind chimes began to play again…

***

M.Macabre

20.11.2020

Dedicated to: Sayak Aman, Redi, R.Escreva, Anonymous, Mr.Nemo

Image courtesy: Anonymous