The Devil Woman’s Lure
Surrounded by the stunning landscape of Brasso Seco, Northern Trinidad beneath a full moon, there was an eerie stillness in the air. It was on this fateful night that young Malachi decided to traverse the solitary tracks that bare through the thick, aged woods.
Ignoring all the warnings of the La Diablesse that his elders battered into him, he set forth, his pulse quickening in excitement, into a rapid drumbeat.
As he walked, the crackling leaves seemed to speak the stories of unfortunate souls who had fallen for an enchanting beauty.
Malachi chuckled to himself and ridiculed the tales, an easy rationalization for hysteria and mere superstition.
After all, he had traveled the world and was sure about his wits and charming, good looks. But the moon’s light seemed to pulse. Cloaking the surroundings in darkness, only the path ahead illuminated. The night morphing into something otherworldly.
Behind one of the twisted trees, dressed in a flowing, long pearl white gown, a woman wore a wide-brimmed hat that cast her face into darkness. Only a hint of teeth from a quick smile and a twinkle of eyes could be seen, as the clouds above hindered the moon’s light.
Malachi’s breath caught in his throat, she was delightful, alluring. She signed to him with one hand to come closer, and without any effort, on the edge of these soft words.
“Come near, brave traveler. Why yuh walkin’ by yuhself when we could keep each odda company?”.
Mesmerized, Malachi felt himself move toward her. The reassurance of company seemed to dispel any possible concerns. The closer he went to her; with that warm smile, the more he felt an unusual sense of unease deep within.
Only now with this slight foreboding did he recall the tales of La Diablesse—the enchanting devil woman who lured men to the grimmest of fates.
Feeling a chill run down his spine, he fully ignored the instincts to flee.
“What yuh name is, beautiful?” he inquired.
“Names doh mean nuttin’ in de dark. But you cud call me anyting yuh want,” she said, overly sweet, which made his skin-prickle.
Malachi, emboldened by his arrogance, took another step forward. Moonlight flickered, but the clouds moved ominously, creating phantom shapes and shadows around them. Suddenly, the wind went through the trees and for a split second, he saw something.
That split second; a flash of a cloven hoof beneath her gown.
“Run bwoy!” His heart screamed, in a vice like grip terror had him.
“What happen?” She asked with a cheery lilt in her voice; twisting into something predatory.
“Ah betta go home,” his mouth tremored. Still wrestling with the pull of her charm.
“Stay nah,” she ordered this time in a soft hiss. “De night still young”.
In one elegant motion, she glided into the shadows. There was Malachi; fear and desire battling within him. Desire winning the battle, he followed. Even as the forest became denser, the trees advanced like guardians, whispering words he could not decipher.
With every step he took his legs felt like lead, the darkness, eager to consume his very soul.
The fracturing noise of the breaking of a branch; shattered the trance.
Malachi froze; his heartbeat pounding in his ears was too loud.
From the underbrush, a cacophony of unseen creatures erupted. The sound of popping twigs and grating voices, but nothing was seen. The nearness of terror stung him in the neck, a sensation of being observed.
“Help meh!” a voice cried out from the shadows.
“She coming fuh yuh! Yuh must escape!”, sending a rush of adrenaline through him.
Malachi spun around, only to find emptiness before him; darkness, pressing in, suffocating him. He recognized who was before him. He took a step back to run, but the image of La Diablesse materialized once more, standing in his way.
“Whey yuh runnin’ from meh for?” she asked, her voice sang such an enthralling and fear-inducing siren song.
Malachi’s daze long since lifted. “Yuh is ah monster!” He yelled his eyes wide in panic. She Laughed—a sound that chilled his bones. Terror turning him cold.
“Ah monster? Me? Or is ah mirror reflecting what yuh ‘fraid? Is you who follow me on yuh own in de dark, and now, you is mine!”.
Malachi desperately sought to break free, remembering the elder’s warnings he had been so arrogant to dismiss.
He quickly turned his shirt inside out, a last-ditch effort to break her hold. But when he looked over his shoulder; the shadowed figure with the brim of her hat shielding most but not all of her face came forward.
Glancing up. She was beautiful, grotesque — half angel, half demon, the duality twisted his sanity. “Yuh really tink dat cud save yuh?” she hissed, her tone mocking, “Yuh cyah run from fate.”
All of a sudden, the forest came alive. Trees began to twist every which way and the moon’s light dimmed; the ground began to tremble beneath his feet, his surroundings warping. In a flash, he was back where he had first met her. It was not the same.
A blood moon had taken to the sky above them; and underneath, the air thick with despair.
The path he walked was now covered in tattered clothes — men’s shirts turned inside-out streaming into the forest. His heart plummeted once he noticed; he was not the first to fall prey to her, the La Diablesse.
Every last victim had tried to flee, from her wicked wiles, but horrifyingly they all failed. Turning to confront her, he found himself faced with his reflection, staring back at him, twisted and disfigured.
A mirror of the soul he had long ago abandoned for beauty, and nothing else.
That was the moment he knew the real horror — it was not La Diablesse; it took shape in the form of the darkness that lived inside him.
Alone, in the eerie stillness, the forest began to whisper his name “Malachi, Malachi, Malachi”.
He could do nothing, but scream; scream of his arrogance, his foolishness, his lust for the hunt and disregard for the wisdom of his elders.
Malachi’s cries were drowned out by the gusts of wind, fading into the night, wails drifting off into the darkness he had sought to conquer. And somewhere in the darkness La Diablesse smiled, her next meal already ensnared.
