Farrel, Your (not so) Friendly Neighborhood Shaman

"I wonder why the forest seems a little different today."

Sipping the pitch-black coffee that seemed to be made out of darkness itself, Farrel couldn't help but complain,

"I still don't understand how you folks make this crap taste sweet."

'Why don't you hurry up and join us to see for yourself how?'

Instead of hearing an audible reply in his ears, Farrel got a reply straight to his head.

In the middle of the woods where there was not a single house other than the one Farrel was currently living in, Farrel was also the only person living there.

"For the hundredth thousand times, I've been telling you,"

"No. I don't have any plans to die yet."

He seemingly spoke to himself, but the voice replying in his head clearly means that he wasn't.

In the midst of all the creepy-looking objects that gave off eerie vibes just by simply looking at them, a man sat in the middle of them.

In the midst of a pristine white cloth that had crimson red markings all over its body, something that seemed to be a dried-up boar's head hung on the wall, Farrel comfortably sat on his favorite bamboo chair while sipping his pitch-black coffee.

He shouldn't have any appointments for the day and he prepared to laze around all day, but the voice in his head just gave him bad news.

'Oh? It looks like you got yourself a visitor'

Turning his head onto what was seemingly an empty spot beside him, Farrel was actually looking at a pair of huge feet.

So huge that the body that held those feet stood tall, even over the ceiling of his humble house.

The pair of feet were covered in black fur all over, and the width of the thigh was as thick as Farrel's whole body.

"Hmm? Really? I was sure that I had no appointments today."

Farrel got up from his comfortable chair and slowly walked to the door.

He wore a pair of loose shorts and an oversized t-shirt, something that you wouldn't wear when receiving a guest, but he didn't care.

"I hope it's someone who has an interesting story to share and a good target to send my special 'gifts' to."

A smile crept up and Farrel's two hands rapidly rubbed against each other as he said the last part of the sentence.

Farrel was halfway to his front door, but the voice once again spoke, and it made him halt his step this time.

'Be careful, he had a nasty thing in his pocket.'

Farrel's eyebrows perked up and he turned his head upward, his eyes seemingly seeing past the ceiling and looking at the owner of the voice.

"Oh? Then we would be in for a little playtime," He said as a smirk formed on his lips.

Without waiting for long, several knocks were heard on his door.

And with Farrel arriving at the exact moment when the door was knocked, it didn't take him a split second to open it.

With a wide smile plastered on his face, he welcomed his unknown guest. "Hello, what can I help you with? Are you lost?"

Standing in front of him was a tall man, a head taller than Farrel at least.

His hair was cut short into a skin fade.

The sunglasses and the expensive black suit that the man wore exuded an intimidating feeling that made other people think that whatever the man was doing, he wasn't messing around.

"No. I'm looking for the shaman, Farrel. Is that you?" The man replied to Farrel's question the second he finished talking.

Furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head, seemingly confused, Farrel answered,

"Oh no, I don't know any shamans who live around here, maybe you should ask the other houses, maybe they'd know?" Farrel pointed at the building-sized trees and the thick bushes all around his house.

Before the man could let out the words stuck halfway through his throat, Farrel rolled his eyes and added, "You wouldn't believe me if I said that right? Come inside and hurry up and finish whatever business you have with me."

Farrel opened up his door wide and beckoned the man to come inside.

With his steps firm and his eyes darting around everywhere to check for anything that might be a threat to him, the man followed Farrel inside before sitting on another bamboo chair right in front of the table Farrel put his coffee on.

And while they were still on their way, the opened door creaked as it moved on its own, closing itself tight slowly.

"So, what is it?" Farrel took another sip of his coffee, nonchalantly staring at the man in front of him.

"I'm here to talk to you about the hex you recently sent to our employer."

Hearing the question, Farrel spent less than a split second to give the man his answer.

"Hex? What are you talking about? I don't know anything about hexes."

Keeping his composure, the man also gave an instant answer.

"We've had our shamans check and they all confirmed that you were the one who did it."

Hearing the answer, Farrel raised his eyebrows and asked "Oh? Really? If you have shamans on your own, why don't you tell them to deal with it then?"

"That's the thing, Mr. Farrel. They were very sure you were the one who did it since none of them could undo the hex. Not even the shaman we hired from overseas could."

A slight grin escaped Farrel's mouth.

"Hoo? Really? I'm flattered to hear that."

"But what do you want by coming here? You want my help to send more hexes to kill your employer faster so that you could take his wife and money? I'll gladly do that!" The small grin he had turned into a wide smile.

But Farrel's keen eyes weren't smiling at all as they looked straight ahead to the man as if there weren't any sunglasses blocking his view of the man's eyes.

Not responding to Farrel's light jab, the man simply said, "We want you to remove the hex this instant and help our employer take care of the little disagreements he had with his political oppositions as compensation for the damages you've done."

Farrel's raised eyebrow rose even more as his smiling mouth turned agape.

He could already guess what these men were trying to do the second the man mentioned his hex, but never did he expect that the man would actually dare to tell him to work for the very person he tried to make his life miserable.

"AHAHAHAHAHA!"

A thunderous laugh resounded throughout the whole house as Farrel couldn't believe what his ears were hearing.

He had these kinds of guests a couple of times already, but this is the first time someone actually dared to do the same thing to him again ever since he made a good example of what would happen if someone forced him to do something.

"Is that all you wanted to say?" Farrel finally said after letting all the laugh out of his throat.

"If that's all, then my answer is no. You all can go back and tell your employer to fix that problem himself."

"No, tell him that it would get worse instead since he dared to ask me to do his dirty deeds."

Shifting his body to lean back onto the bamboo chair, Farrel looked at the man before he started explaining.

"I suppose you already know what your lovely employer did right? But just in case you forget, I will not be lazy and remind you of the things he has done."

"Approving messed up policies to benefit the huge corporations and indirectly torturing thousands of people's lives, heck maybe there were already unrecorded fatalities here and there.

In fact, there are already a few, and many of the victims' families are coming here to ask for payback."

"One spirit of the victim that followed his family even stayed here and volunteered to keep your employer up at night by using his soul to make the hex stronger."

"These people are the same people your employer gave food, clothes, and even financed their children to be able to get free education."

"But after getting their trust and vote, he dared to turn things 180 degrees, not even letting them afford diapers for their babies? You're telling me to just sit down and do nothing?"

"You even dared to tell me to work for him? Are you out of your goddamn minds!?"

As if already expecting Farrel's answer and not caring a single bit to listen or respond to any of his explanations, the man stayed rooted in his seat before once again saying,

"I would like to ask you once again nicely to undo the hex and work for our employer. Lest you want to regret your decision."

Leaning his body forward and placing one hand on his chin, Farrel nonchalantly asked, "Oh? Is this a threat?"

"Then let me give you a better one."

Putting his two hands on top of the table, Farrel leaned forward even more and stared at the man dead in his eyes.

"I'll give you 10 seconds to kick your own ass out before I make sure your soul will stay here forever to be used to empower more of the hexes I will be sending to your employer."

"And if you decide to go back, don't forget to tell your employer that he better prepare hundreds of shamans lest he want his throat to be filled with nails."

"10 seconds starts now."

"10"

"9"

…

The man didn't move a single bit even after hearing Farrel's stern warning and even when he started counting, the man just kept his body still and stared back at Farrel's eyes.

"5"

With his mouth saying aloud the number five, Farrel raised five of his fingers.

"3…"

*BANG!*

With one swift movement that almost went by in an instant, the man pulled out a gun from his pocket and shot the leaning Farrel right in the dead center of his forehead.