The Demon of Zanzibar

In the early 2000s, a man collapsed in front of a police station. He was completely naked and possessed a skeletal frame. Bystanders saw this action transpire, but they continued their stroll out of the assumption he was merely a drug addict who had become dependent on whatever substance he was taking. The chief of police came to the station not too long after the man fainted. Without much delay, he sends for some of his men to collect the man and bring him inside.

The man awoke in the interrogation room with a warm, wool blanket around him. His eyes were sunken in most likely from weeks of insomnia. He shakily had a cup of coffee in his hands: every instant he went to take a swig of the beverage, he spasmed in his chair, spilling the hot liquid on the floor. He looked behind his back constantly during the interview. He brought his cup down on the table and cupped his face hiding his shame.

"Sir, I'd like to introduce myself," the interrogator began, "My name is Officer Mackenzie, and I would like to ask you a few questions."

The man shook his head violently. "No! No! I can't!"

"Sir, we found you naked within arm's length of the station. We want to know what happened."

"I can't! He'll know where I'm at!"

Officer Mackenzie took a deep draw of his cigar and breathed out a ring of smoke. He waited a bit for the interviewee to recuperate. He set his timer to sixty minutes. During those minutes, he talked pleasurably with the man on unrelated topics to make the interviewee more comfortable in hopes of making him more lenient on elaborating what brought him there. The man breathed in slowly and took a final look behind his back before answering.

"Are you able to tell me what incidents brought you to our station?" Mackenzie asked.

"Yes," he said, "it may sound crazy, though."

Officer Mackenzie leaned backward in his chair, motioning for the man to continue. The interviewee's hands started to shake again, but he was able to choke out a mumbled line of words. "Have you...ever heard of the Popobawa?"

Officer Mackenzie stared at the man and then at his fellow officers. "No. I haven't."

The man sighed in relief. "You don't know? That's good."

"What does this...Pippy-Ba-Ra have to do with you?"

"That thing," the man drew out the last word, "is not of this Earth." He rubbed his eyes that were laced with eye bags. "He is some monster from this country I never heard of Zanzibar."

"Zanzibar?" Officer Mackenzie reiterated. "We live just north of Cherryshrub, Mississippi, son."

"My co-worker told me about the legend," the interviewee clarified, "I didn't believe it at first. Some bat thing from Hell who...well you know."

The interviewee was laughing nervously at the last note of his dialogue. Ugly tears began to fill his eyes as he deteriorated back into a sniveling wreck. "But I was wrong to encourage him like that. With my disbelief."

"What happened, son?"

"He...he appeared to me as a black cat that I pass on the way to work. That didn't intimidate me much. But each time I took the long drive home, I could've sworn I've felt a... dark presence watching my every movement. At night, as I laid in my bed, that same feeling of being watched arose in me. I saw a dark figure with a flaming eye glare at me from my closet. First, it was just a wing. Then another wing. His feet appeared immediately afterward. For an entire week, this thing stalked me, robbing me of my sleep. I held the covers firmly over my face by the time I saw his terrible, hideous eye. He spoke out to me in a voice only I could hear. That mocking, giddy voice continues to haunt me."

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 14.09.2020
ISBN: 978-3-7487-5741-2

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