Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The dead face


In my younger days, I was a prison officer. There was a prisoner who used to give me the creeps. He was, I think of Thai descent, for he had a dark brown complexion and a lean, bony face. There were mystical tattoos on his body in the shape of serpents and skulls. I believe he was a worshipper of demons.
This guy was morose. He had these dark gleaming eyes which constantly hinted at dangerous plans. Thus we prison officers never liked him. There was a threatening air that surrounded him wherever he went. As if he as involved in some conspiracy....
Every morning, he would murmur the prayers. The incantations sent shivers down my spine. And no matter how much we hollered at him to stop, he would continue without fail, even if he lowered his voice and whispered. Nevertheless, the entire prison would be conscious of his prayers. And whenever I checked his cell, I would note that he was kneeling towards the west. You could sense something evil about this man.
The eerie incidents began after he was stabbed to death. An argument in the toilet resulted in a horrendous fight. A few prisoners ganged up on him and killed him with something sharp. Apparently, he had held down and repeatedly stabbed in the heart and throat. From then on, there would be a pool of blood which appeared and disappeared in a mysterious manner. At night, you could go to the toilet and discover a scarlet puddle that had emerged from nowhere, precisely where the guy had bled to death. It is the sign of disturbed spirit.
On certain nights, it seems, when all else was quiet, there would be an ominous murmuring of prayers as well coming from the west. And no one would be there

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