A Matter of Minutes

a short fiction story with black magic

(Note: deceased author wrote this in first person as he didn't think it sounded good any other way) 

     As I write this, I'm lying on my deathbed.  If I had related this before, I surely would have faced the gallows.

     Harry and I were in the cavalry and when the Indian Revolution broke out we were transferred to India from Arabia to help put the rebels down.

     By luck, we ended in the same company.  Oh but the war was bloody.  But Harry nor I ever saw the end, for I became exhausted near the close and by the time I was well, the war was over.

     It was about in the middle of the revolution, when Harry and I became separated from our regiment.  We had recently routed a number of the Indian beggars and shortly after this victory, one of those monstrous rains the monsoon brought fell upon us.  As a result Harry and I lost our party. 

     When those pelting drops of water finally let up, we weren't sure where we were.  It was rough, wild, harsh country of thick, green growth. 

     "By Her Majesty!" Harry exclaimed.  "Look! Aloft the hill!"

     I looked up at the thick mass of trees and vegetation Harry had pointed to at the top of the rough hill looming over us.

     "There!" Harry again pointed out.  "Can't you see it, Eddie?"

     And then all of a sudden it appeared.  It was very well hidden, but I could see it.  It was the top of some huge dome.  And upon closer examination, I could see it was some deserted temple built by the ancients of India. 

     I proposed we go explore it to Harry and he agreed.  So in about an hour, after tethering our horses at the bottom of the hill, we had reached the ruins and were clambering about.  We would never see our horses again. 

     "Eddie!" I heard Harry call as I started to enter the largest of the many buildings, "Come here!"

     I rushed out with my pistol ready but all I saw was Harry at the top of some pit.

     "What's wrong with you, old maid?" I asked jestfully.  "Are you afraid you'll fall in?"

     "No" Harry replied.  "Come look in it though."

     I went to his side and peered into the darkness.  I could see the cobra sliding and slithering around at the bottom. 

     "15 feet at the least," Harry breathed. 

     "How's the beggar stayed alive?" I asked as the thought came to my mind. 

     Harry looked up at me, "There's only one way.  Somebody's been feeding him."

     Then, quite sudden, we were grasped from behind and our weapons were wrenched away.  Our captors were some of the Indian rebels.  We were taken (not very gentleman-like though) to a cell within one of the temple buildings and were cast in.  Two sentries were left on duty. 

     "Harry," I whispered, "we have a roommate."

     In the corner opposite us a strange personage sat unmoving.  He was dressed in long flowing green and black robes and his feet were bare.  He had cold black eyes and long white hair and a long flowing white beard.  He was evidently very aged and his profession could have nothing else but that doing with black magic.  His hands were tattooed and various sizes of snake skulls dangled from his sash.  Also there were several bags lashed beside the skulls. 

     "A fakir," Harry whispered. 

     I nodded in assent. 

     The next few days were all very fine.  We were given food and water and so was the fakir.  But there was one thing.  The fakir never stirred a muscle until nightfall.  When dusk arrived he would take a bit of powder from each of his bags and would make a small pile.  Weirdly enough when he dropped a snake skull into the powders a fire would raise.  Then sitting next to it, the fakir would moan until dawn, even when the flames went out.  Then he would resume his daytime position.  All this didn't seem to mean anything to our captors but it was making Harry and I nervous wrecks.

     This kept up for four days and the fifth night of our capture the thing happened that completely unnerved us, but as usual the guards were unimpressed.  Perhaps their iron nerves were there downfall. 

     Darkness had just come and just as the fakir was rising we heard a rustling in the dirt floor.  There it was.  A 6 foot cobra.  How it got there, only God knows, but it was there. 

     Harry and I were too stiff with fright to make any move.  As for the sentries as their posts were outside, they couldn't see anything. 

     Then like lightening, the fakir leaped upon it.  We saw him raise the body to his mouth and sink his teeth into the joint of the head and neck.  There was a long hiss and then the reptile's body went limp.  Following that, the fakir picked up a small rock and beat the body until the head was separated from the body.  Then, to our horror, he pulled a piece of twine, tied it to the viper's head, form a necklace, and hung the ghastly thing around his neck. 

     Harry was quivering in terror and I also.  I knew we could never live another hour with that beast, that bloody, eerie ghoul. 

     Contrary to his usual night patrol, the fakir went back to his corner and closed his eyes, the cobra's head still dripping with blood and dangling from his neck.

    Harry whispered in terror, "Eddie! I can't live another minute with that horrifying fakir. We've got to do something." 

     "Neither can I," I answered, in a fright, unable to take my eyes off the fakir.  "But I've got a plan." 

     I laid it out before Harry and he agreed.

    Silently and softly we stole upon the doorway.  There was no door and then I boldly stepped out.  The guards were astonished by my appearance and on impulse I jumped one.  As the other came to help his pal, Harry jumped him.  We snatched their daggers and sheathed them in our sentries' backs.  They fell to the ground. 

     I went over to the fakir and jerked him to the floor, carefully avoiding an encounter with the gory thing at the fakir's throat. 

     "Come," was the only word I said to him. 

     The fakir answered not, but he arose and followed us. 

     As we approached the cobra pit, Harry shouted "Now!"

     We whirled on the fakir and seized him roughly.  He started yelling, but we paid no attention to him.  Without a word, we flung the fakir in with the cobra at the bottom of the pit. 

     At that moment, there was a clattering of hooves, shouts and rushing of figures.  Harry and I turned to hide, but to my horror, I saw Harry stumble against a rock and fall into the cobra pit, screaming. 

     I froze, shocked.  It suddenly occurred to me my friend and I had murdered a person.  We actually didn't have that much reason.  We could have easily escaped without killing the fakir.  If I were found out, I would face the firing squad or the gallows. 

     I turned to hide, but at that minute two mounted figures rode up.  They were my commanding officer and his aide.

     "Captain Milt, " he roared, addressing me."We've rescued you. But where's Sergeant Doolin?"

     "Dead, " I replied.  "We were escaping when you rode in, sir. The head of these rebels stationed here jumped us and he and Harry fell into the cobra pit."

     The colonel ordered the bodies removed and the cobra's death.  I inquired how we were found.  The colonel explained that while in a village a suspicious figure was seen buying supplies.  He was seized and forced to tell who he was.  He was one of the rebels where Harry and I were captives and told everything about the outpost.  He had been sent to get supplies in the village.  As my jail keepers were taken by surprise, they had put up little resistance. 

     Then the bodies were brought before us---Harry's and the fakir's.  I knew I would get away with the crime I committed as I looked at the colonel's face. 

     After all these years I'm letting this off my conscience.  It was ironical, if Harry and I had waited a matter of minutes, Harry would still be alive---even the fakir. 

    THE END

Raymond L. Collins

raymondofthewoods

Date unknown, circa late 1970s

copyright reserved by the publisher

Carol A Wells