Sunneith and I are writing 6 short stories each.
These stories will be used as blueprints for the lyrics to the next Bhayanak Maut album.
This is the first short story that I've written. There's no name to it as yet.
You’re having a flashback.
You’re 10 years old.
It’s a sunny afternoon and you’re behind the village shaman’s house.
You look around you and see your father.
His face is a mixture of uncertainty and pride.
Your elder brother is standing next to your father.
His best friends are standing very close to him.
You recognize that look on your brother’s face – You’ve seen it whenever one of his friends puts his hands inside your brother’s loosely-knotted pants.
The shaman is now standing in front of you. There’s a breeze blowing and his white robes are stuck close to his body. So close, that you see the shape of his paunch and the shape of his skinny legs too.
Your gaze shifts to the young goat that the Shaman is holding by the ears. He turns the goat towards the hut and secures a noose around its neck.
He squats down next to you, takes your hand and gently places it on the goat’s back. ‘There, there, there’s nothing to be afraid of’.
His hand then guides yours to the goat’s fluffy tail. ‘You see this?’, he asks as he lifts the tail and points to the pinkish hole from where goats let out their brown berries every day.
You always wondered why nobody ate those berries. Well, at least till you ate one yourself.
‘Now, you’re going to prove to all of us that YOU (he said this is a sing-song way) are a real man’.
There’s an unusual feeling like a knot deep behind your belly button. It’s the first time you’ve felt anything like it. You swallow your spit, take in a sharp breath and clench your buttocks.
‘How?’ you ask him, looking straight into his eyes.
The shaman puts two of his fingers into his mouth, sucks on them for an uncomfortably long period of time, takes them out carefully and then shows them to you. His eyes are suddenly glassy, like the marbles you play with.
One of his eyebrows raises itself, slowly. You don’t know how that happened, but it brings a smile to your face. The Shaman smiles too, but for a completely different reason.
You then follow his two, wet fingers as they approach the goat’s backside.
You hear him call out to someone; in a flash two pairs of weathered hands, are holding the goat’s hind legs down.
For a few seconds, you notice the animal struggling to look around, but your attention soon returns to the two fingers as they are forced into the hole under the goat’s tail.
Your head explodes with the bleating of the goat. That knot behind your belly button suddenly starts to drop lower into your body. There’s a funny sensation between your legs. You don’t know it, but your father is now standing behind you, his hands around your mid-riff, untying your pyjamas. He drops them to the ground, raises you by holding you from your armpits and kicks away your pyjamas with his legs.
You’re forced to look down at the little pipe-like protrusion between your legs as the Shaman takes it into his mouth and starts to suck on it. It’s an unusual feeling at first. A warm, tingling sensation starts to build up between your legs. It’s mirrored by a ticklish sensation on the outside of your legs as the Shaman’s beard rubs against your thighs.
Your father’s hands are still holding you by the armpits, but you have no idea where your arms are. You look down once the sucking stops and what you see excites you tremendously. Your small pipe is now very, very long. The Shaman looks at your father and smiles. He brings the goat’s backside closer to your groin and raises the tail once more.
‘Today, show us that you’re a man’ he says in your ear.
You don’t know it, but you’re already bucking; something inside you wants you to put your pipe inside that goat. You slide in nice and easy. The hair that surrounds the goat’s pink hole is soft and ticklish. You don’t know it yet, but this is a feeling that you will remember for the rest of your life.
Your head is now in a warm place. You don’t know what you’re doing but you know exactly what you’re supposed to do. In the distance, in another world maybe, you hear shouts of encouragement from your brother. The haze in your head starts to clear and you’re brought back to the back of the hut when you feel something hard and wet creep between your buttock cheeks. It’s the shaman’s fingers.
You don’t know what they’re doing there, but you feel them probe an area that you touch only when you have to wash yourself after taking a shit. The only other people to have touched that area before were your father and brother. Your father taught you how to clean up after you did your ‘kaka’ every morning. Your brother told you that it was he could touch you there whenever he wanted to. And you allowed him to do that; you liked it.
As soon as the Shaman’s fingers enter you noiselessly, you find yourself bucking even harder. The goat’s bleats are now like a beat that you’re following. Your head escapes once more – this time into a brighter, warmer place. There’s an unusual fuzzy feeling that’s starting to build up in your groin. You don’t know it, but you’re about to experience an orgasm for the very first time. A dry one though. Your testicles won’t produce any seed till you turn 12.The first orgasm you ever have is a violent one. Your body contorts and writhes like you’re having a fit. Your father pulls you out of the goat and swings you away from the hut’s shadow and into the sunlight. His strong hands hold you up so that your kicking feet don’t touch the ground. The other men from the village cheer loudly. You don’t hear it; your ears are buzzing with the sound of a million flies.
Your breathing is shallow and quick. Now, you smell your brother’s breath and slowly open your eyes. The bright sun only allows you to see a silhouette of people at first. There are loud voices asking your father to bring you back to the goat. The Shaman is now standing next to the goat with a large knife. Your father places you close to the Shaman, who gently places his hand behind your neck. He comes close to your ear and whispers, ‘A man, you are now’.
He moves away from you and hacks the goat’s neck with one strong swing of the knife. You see blood spray violently against the hut’s wall. It’s the first time you notice dry spray patterns all over the hut’s wall, now being soaked back into existence by the fresher blood.
The Shaman now holds the goat’s midriff and cuts away at the skin (parts of the skin are still violently shaking) to reveal the back-bone. With the skill of an expert, he rips out the last bone with the tip of the knife, holds it up and shouts out, ‘A man! He is a man!’
Now, back to the present.
You’re in the back of your truck.
A eunuch has your penis in his mouth. It’s well past mid-night but the moon is full and bright. You pull yourself out of the eunuch’s mouth and turn him over. Two fingers, first in your mouth and then in the eunuchs tight hole.
You’re hard as a rock now.
You spend a few seconds squeezing the eunuch’s firm buttocks with your free hand. Then you use the tips of your fingers to feel for scars.
You don’t find any.
To your delight, the eunuch is blessed with a thick matting of hair between his legs and his buttocks.
You tell him that you like that.
You pull your fingers out and get ready to mount him.
He’s now on all fours, and has no clue about what you’re going to do to him.
As you enter the eunuch, he moans his surprise at the size of your erection.
You wrap your hands around his neck and start to thrust yourself.
You experimented with your sexual behaviour during the second decade of your life. Dogs, Sheep, Goats, Cow, the odd Cat and Horse too– you mounted them all.
They always brought you joy.
Women never did.
They talked back.
They always talked back and told you that you were too big, or too rough or too unusual.
But, animals were different. You never had to deal with their feelings after you were done with them.
When your father passed away, your brother forced you to join him on the road as a truck driver. You were only 19.
What did you miss the most about being in the village?
The animals. You yearned for their touch.
On the road, you allowed yourself to be seduced by other truck drivers on a few occasions, but you never enjoyed it.
You had stopped feeling like a man.
Then, one night, you slept with a eunuch.
He said that if you were a real man, then you’d have to prove it to him.
Since that episode, you’ve only slept with eunuchs.
And, tonight, once again, you’ll prove that you’re a man.
Like always, you enticed this eunuch into joining you in the cargo hold of the truck by offering him a gracious sum of money at the end.
You showed him the currency note and said he could have it if he did exactly what you told him to do.
Your hands are now wrapped tightly around the eunuch’s neck.
As you thrust harder into him, you grunt out that you want to hear the bleating sounds of a goat while you’re inside him.
He tries to bleat, but he can’t.
You start to thrust harder and your grip around his neck gets tighter.
He pulls at your fingers; you let go of his throat and hold him by the shoulders. He starts to bleat.
‘Again!’ you order him.
He bleats again.
‘Don’t stop!’ you shout at him.
The bleating continues.You are now in a warm place.
There’s a knot behind your belly button that’s dropping towards your crotch. That familiar fuzzy feeling that tells you that you’re about to ejaculate soon has started to build up in your groin.
You can hear your brother and the other elders of the village cheering you on. You start to buck like a maniac.
The eunuch continues to bleat.
He’s never done anything like this before.
Your grunts have now turned into deep moans.
Your hold on the eunuch’s shoulders becomes stronger.
As soon as you start to ejaculate, your body becomes tense.
If you could, you would have ripped out the flesh from this eunuch’s shoulders.
The eunuch hears you take in several sharp breaths of air as you thrust a final few times.
You finally stop moving; but you’re still hard, inside him.
There are a million flies buzzing in your ears.
You see shiny beads of sweat on the eunuch’s back.
One bead is slowly travelling down between his buttocks, towards your penis.
You remove your penis, still erect.
You hold him down in this current position with one hand and use the other one to squeeze his groin and the insides of his thighs.
Then, like a bad habit, your hand moves to a secret crevice on the edge of the wall of the cargo hold.
The eunuch lets go of a sigh.
He looks back at you and the last thing that he sees in his miserable life is a knife coming down on his neck.
It’s taken you a while to perfect that move, and you’re quite good at it now.
One powerful and complete swipe of the arm into the back of the neck with a sharp knife, and death is quick and silent.
They bleed a bit, most eunuchs, but most of the blood seeps into the wooden floors of the cargo hold, only to drip away onto the road.
You use the knife to expose the back-bone and rip out the last bone, the tail-bone.
You leave the eunuch’s body in the cargo hold. You usually wait to cross a bridge or a river to dispose the body.
You wear your robes and head back to the front of the truck.
Once you’ve climbed in through the driver’s door, you move to the back seat and pull out the tin jar that you’ve hidden under it.
You place the fresh tail-bone in your mouth and suck away the blood.
You pry the box’s cover open with your fingernails and look at the contents of the tin box.
There they are. All the proof you’ll need to know that you’re a man.
You spit the freshest tail-bone into the tin and close the lid.
You know you’ll sleep well tonight.