The fireflies

The fireflies

Night had just covered this peaceful village in the African forest with its soft, dark and mysterious veil. The villagers had all barricaded themselves in their huts when an unusual noise disturbed the peace of the night. The sudden noise was the gunfire of the slave traders who had come to capture the young people they would sell on the coast. The inhabitants of the village caught in their huts were massacred, the huts were burnt down and all the young boys and girls were gathered in the centre of the village to be taken away. An old man, awakened from his sleep by all the commotion, saw the massacre and began to shout inaudible words in his dialect at the invaders. Irritated, one of the assailants fired a burst of ammunition into his chest and the old man slumped down in front of a baby who was crying over the body of his coldly murdered mother. In the darkness, lit by the glow of torchlight, the old man's corpse vaporised and a firefly rose up from the spot and into the baby's nostrils. The kid rubbed his nostrils, sneezed and cried harder. A slaver who was passing by saw the crying child and called out to a young girl in the procession who was sent to carry him.

***

Five years later, in the southern states of America, the slave trade was in full swing. Mr. Tom Budson was a wealthy cotton and coffee plantation owner, who travelled by night to the slave market in the port city far from his farm. Mr. Tom Budson had left at night in order to get there early and have the opportunity to select the finest Negro stallions that could work hard and improve the yield of his plantations. He was alone in his car on that dark, moonless night. Tom was humming the romantic tune of a bourgeois on his way to a new conquest when he was startled by the coughing of his car engine, the noise persisted and the car stopped. Mr. Tom started the car again, but to no avail, and was forced to get out.

-My God!" he exclaimed as he walked to the front of the car. This is not the time to do me any favours. I don't want to be late for the market tomorrow morning.

He was dressed in classic bourgeois fashion with his belly bulging in his slightly tight jacket. He opened the bonnet, leaned over the engine and began to fiddle with it. Just then he heard a noise in the brush. Mr Tom looked up, saw nothing and went back to work. The noise repeated itself and this time when he looked up he saw a firefly flickering in the dark. Tom paid no attention and went back to his work, the noise was heard even closer. He looked up again and this time it was a swarm of fireflies that he saw in the thicket. The bush had become glittering like a burning bush. Curious, Mr. Tom Budson walked over to see what was attracting the fireflies to the area. As he approached, he heard a slow, heavy burning coming from the bush. Two eyes of a different brightness to the fireflies were looking at him. Tom stopped, he was frozen, the two bloodshot yellow eyes in the middle of the fireflies were moving towards him. That was the last image Mr Tom Budson had of the encounter. A howl of pain was heard in the darkness of the deserted road for miles around.

***

The morning gazette carried a front page story about Mr Tom Budson's body being strangely mutilated on the harbour road. All the rich plantation owners were stunned by the sad

news. On the Eddy Smith Farm plantation, Mouna, the young girl who had carried the baby to her village, was picking cotton with the other slaves. The baby was now a little boy of five years old who ran to his mother and picked the cotton that fell and put it in the basket, Mouna had named him Djeyou. It was the height of the harvest season and all the slaves were in the plantations, the barking of the dogs drew their attention, all the slaves in the plantation stopped picking and turned towards the barking. The slave hunters were bringing back fugitives who had tried to escape in the night. They were being dragged along on ropes tied around their necks, their hands tied behind their backs. Mouna carried her son and covered his face on her breast to protect him from this unpleasant scene. Desolation was evident on the faces of the slaves who had remained on the plantation. Fred, the foreman, came forward and gave money to the slave hunters before taking back his prisoners, then he led the captives into the large courtyard where he tied them to the torture post and flogged them at length.

At nightfall. Mr Eddy Smith, who is the president of the federation of wealthy farmers in the area, was receiving his rich slave and plantation owner friends. They were sitting on the veranda and a big fire was lit in the yard. The slaves were forced into knife fights for the entertainment of Mr Smith's guests. They bled and cut their bodies under the mocking gaze and laughter of the bourgeois farmers. Those slaves who refused to play the game were tied to a post and flogged for a long time. Young Negroes were forced to mate in the courtyard or else be burnt with red-hot iron. All this was just a game for Mr. Smith and his hosts and it amused them. Mouna hid Djeyou's face in the hollow of her shoulder to prevent him from seeing what was happening in the cruel world outside. The child fell asleep quite quickly and she went to lay him down in a corner of the barn that served as their dormitory before joining the others in the courtyard. The night had been full of excitement and Mr. Smith's guests were delighted with the performance of his slaves, they took their leave of him while the slaves rescued those who had suffered torture and injury during the cursed game the boss had organised in honour of his guests.

Mr. Cheyney, who was returning from the ceremony at Mr. Eddy's house with his wife and foreman, was about to arrive at his house when the foreman driving the wagon gave a cry of terror, the wagon stopped and the horses would not move. Surprised, Mr. Cheyney, who was sitting in the wagon with his wife, got up.

-I'm going to see what's going on outside," he said to his wife as he got out of the car.

The atmosphere outside was otherworldly. The night was so opaque that it could be cut with a knife. He went back to the carriage to get a torch and returned. All was so quiet around him but his foreman was not sealed. In the light of the torch, Mr. Cheyney was shocked to discover the mangled body of his foreman on the side of the road. A heavy thud was heard behind him. He turned abruptly and shone his torch into the bush without seeing anything. Worriedly he looked around, his eyes wide with fear. A dark mass emerged from the night behind him and leapt at him. A hopeless battle ensued, the powerful jaws of the wild beast closed on his carotid artery and a rush of blood filled his mouth and exited through his nostrils. His brain suddenly shut down like a disconnected machine. Mrs Cheyney, who was still in the car, was alerted by the noise and called him. She saw that he was not answering and went downstairs to inquire about the situation. She had just enough time to see her husband being torn apart by a black and aggressive shadow. She wanted to scream but her voice did not obey her, she remained frozen in place. The monster advanced towards her with a furious roar. From the advancing black mass one could only make out two luminous tawny eyes. The beast looked her straight in the eye for an interminable second before disappearing into the night. Terrorized, she fell into a faint.

***

On the Bob Edward farm, the slaves were in their hacienda while the family was eating dinner. As soon as the meal was over, Mister Bob addressed his son Edward Junior, the eldest of the family, who was a very self-confident boy.

-I wouldn't like to see you running around with the plantation niggers again," his father reproached him.

-But Dad, I'm not a kid anymore, I know what I'm doing: replied Edward Junior.

-Do you want to tarnish the family's image? I forbid you to behave like this. growled Sir Edward. And jump.

. Displeased at being reprimanded by his father again. He got up, left the table and went out into the night. This spoiled son of an aristocrat could not stand reproaches; he only did as he pleased. Alone in a corner of the courtyard, he sat down at the foot of a large tree and pondered on what his father had just told him. Just then he heard a noise in the shop where the cotton bales were stored; he got up and went over to it. Through the window, Edward Junior saw a young slave girl tying the cotton bales, she was alone in the shop. The young man walked around the building, pushed the door open and entered the shop. Frightened by this intrusion, the girl turned around and recognised him, she lowered her head and continued her work.

-What are you doing alone in the shop at this hour? asked the boss's son.

-I have to prepare the bales that your father will take to the market tomorrow morning: she replied.

Edward Junior's eyes were filled with desire as he knew that the Negress was alone and at his mercy in the shop at night. He approached her with a smirk on his face. With his right hand he lifted her head and began to stroke her chin. Her ragged dress was patched around her loins and added to the arch of her hips a proud gazelle look.

-What are you doing, sir?" she asked shyly.

-Can't you tell? he murmured.

He reached out his left hand to hold her at the level of her loins, but she stepped back and the old piece of wire that held the patched fabric to her hip gave way. Leaving an undergarment as white as the cotton she was wrapping. She dashed for the door and ran out of the shop. Edward Junior, with an athletic leap, went out the window and blocked her way to the hacienda where the other slaves were. Cornered, the girl headed for the cotton plantation not far from the farm. The young man set off after her. This time he was sure that the pretty slave girl would not escape. During this frantic race, the girl stumbled and fell into the tall grass, her pursuer caught up with her, dived on her and tore off the rest of the clothes on her body. The nigger, like a fury, clawed at her face with all her might. Feeling the pain, he stopped and straightened up on his knees, ran his hand over his face and saw that he was bleeding:

-You dared to hurt me! he complained.

Furious, he beat her, the young woman stuck between his knees struggled and called out to

help. At that moment, a dull roar stopped his attacker dead in his tracks. Edward Junior turned around, looked up and met the gaze of a beast with phosphorescent eyes staring back at him. Frightened, Edward Junior stood up to flee as the monster leapt at him and he felt claws as sharp as blades slash his back. He screamed in excruciating pain, the weight of his opponent propelled him forward, he fell on his stomach and sank into the darkness. His back was completely shredded and he died in a pool of blood. Horrified by the scene she had just witnessed, the young Negress got up and ran to the barn without looking back. She joined the others and huddled under her blanket, shivering with panic and fear, she did not know how to relate what had just happened.

It was harvest season, it had been several days since Edward Junior had left the table one night during dinner and no one had seen him again. A search had been launched across the county to no avail. The cotton stalks were all covered in white across the meadows. The slaves harvested with baskets which they emptied into the carts that criss-crossed the fields. The children, who were playing through the cotton stalks, discovered the rotting body of Edward Junior. A crowd gathered around the grisly discovery. When Mr Edward arrived, the slaves gave way to him and he discovered the body of his son. He was shocked and turned his head away at the sight of his son's unrecognisable body, completely torn to shreds. Around the body there was no trace of footprints or violence. The body of the boss's son was buried in the middle of the plantation by slaves.

***

Night fell on this part of New Orleans. At the Eddy Smith farm, Mouna and her son were with the other slaves in the bunkhouse. The night was particularly grim, nature was unhappy after another hard day's work. A thunderstorm swept through the area, rain pelting the roof and walls of the barn. A chill wind blew into the room and forced the slaves to huddle together. Thunder rumbled in the night and Djeyou spilled his cup of maize porridge on himself as he drank. Frightened, the child ran into the arms of his mother who cleaned him up and carried him. The light of a flash of lightning flashed through the darkness and illuminated some of the faces of the negroes who were crouching together. A sinister roar was heard, confused with the sound of thunder in the deep night. Mouna cradled her child and they slept soundly until morning.

The day dawned on the Eddy Smith farm and Fred the foreman came to wake the slaves in the barn early by pouring cold water on those who were lying around. In a corner of the yard, the group of young slaves who had failed to escape the last time had not given up their plan. They were once again hatching a plan. For this day, the women were invited to do the laundry while the men went to the plantation. The foreman, who had been working with Mouna for some time, held her back that morning while the other women went to the river.

-If you continue to ignore my proposal I will have fun branding your son. he threatened her.

She pretended not to have heard him and hurried off with the other women towards the river, taking her son by the hand. During the washing she was preoccupied and stopped for a moment to look at her son who was having fun hitting a piece of clothing on the stone next to her. A few moments later, she went to spread the clothes on the grass, the foreman approached her -If you don't want your son to suffer, meet me behind the stables at nightfall: he told her before riding away on his horse.

As soon as night fell, the foreman went behind the wooden building of the stables and waited for Mouna to arrive. The pretty negress he had fantasised about since the first day she set foot on the farm. The wait seemed long and he started walking to stretch his legs, he was surprised to find that the crickets and toads had stopped making noise. A heavy silence surrounded Fred the foreman. Worried, he looked around but saw no one. A noise sounded from the other side of the stable. Fred walked forward, certain that he would meet his sweetheart at the end of the corridor. When he arrived at the scene, he saw no one; it was pitch black all around him. Only the distant glow of the lamp from inside the building made it possible to make out shapes in the night.

-Mouna my dear, is that you? Fred called.

An eerie silence surrounded his voice.

-I see you want to play hide and seek! I love it... we'll have fun.

He entered the stable and heard a noise in the ceiling of the stable. He looked up slowly and saw a firefly flickering down from the ceiling. Then he heard a voice calling him. It was Mr. Smith's son running in with a torch in his hand, he was out of breath.

-Fred, we're looking for you everywhere, my father wants to see you urgently.

-What's going on? asked the foreman.

-The slaves have escaped again.

They ran back to the house and Mr Smith was waiting for them on the veranda, obviously very unhappy.

-Where have you been?" asked Mr Smith.

Without waiting for an explanation, he continued.

-Catch all these fugitives and bring them back here before dawn or you'll hear from me. Said Mr Eddy Smith to Fred in a threatening tone.

The dogs were released, the foreman and the other guards sealed the horses and set off into the darkness after the slaves. Through the brush, the young slaves fled at full speed. The slave hunters were after them with dogs and guns. They had run enough and were already feeling the fatigue but the barking of the dogs was getting closer and closer. One of the fugitives sprained his ankle and the other two joined together to support him by the shoulders, helping him to move forward. They could not go fast with this handicap and the dogs caught up with them and a few moments later the hunters on horseback came quickly. They were hoisted onto their horses, their weapons pointed at the fugitives.

The slave hunters drew whips and amused themselves by flogging the slaves, sabotaging them with the horses and pounding them with the butts of their long rifles. They were having fun with this game when a sudden thud stopped them dead in their tracks. The hunters turned to see a swarm of fireflies in the vegetation, from which a ferocious wildfire was coming straight at them. A slave hunter shouldered his rifle to fire but lost sight of his target, the firefly swarm had vanished. A cold, gloomy draft blew over the vegetation around them. A dog's howl of distress tore through the silence of the night, the hunters turned in the direction of the noise and fired their guns, and silence fell once more. They dismounted and rode to the spot. They found the dog's mangled body, blood still warm from the shreds of living flesh. This sight stigmatized them when the cries of distress from the other dogs woke them from their torpor. Some

seconds later a total silence fell over the site. The fugitives were completely distraught by what was happening around them. The hunters returned to the scene of the noise and found the other two dogs barking and gasping for breath. The slave hunters, who were always good, tough guys, were frightened by this unexpected situation. The three hunters grouped together back to back to better watch their backs. The swarm of fireflies appeared from the brush and invaded them, cries of pain and terror resounded in the bush; streams of blood sprayed the slaves who had become helpless spectators of the carnage. The fugitives tried to get away from this horrible spectacle but fear and terror kept them there.

Fred and his companions were drawn to the screams that pierced the darkness of the brush.

-Did you hear that? asked the foreman. Let's hurry, they can't be far away.

They spurred the horses and rode towards the screams.

The slaves were dumb with terror, a shadowy animal of a black that blended with the darkness and surrounded by fireflies came towards them, looking at them with its luminous eyes. The beast let out a slow, heavy roar. The fugitives closed their eyes so as not to see the fate that awaited them. They were surprised by the sudden silence, they opened their eyes and saw nothing around them. The sealed horses of their murdered pursuers were there. They mounted them and disappeared into the night. Fred and the Smith farm guards arrived at the scene of the massacre and had only their eyes to see the damage. The glow of the lamps they held at the end of the poles wandered across their faces and you could see the fear in their eyes.

-Those slaves slaughtered the hunters and took their horses and rode away," Fred shouted.

-In my opinion this is not the work of a human: replied Mobby one of the guards.

-We have to catch up with them right away: Fred shouted.

-I prefer that we go back. The animal or monster that caused this massacre can't be far away: suggested Mobby.

A strange noise sounded in the bush and moved towards them. Fred and the others stopped talking and listened.

-I think the noise is getting closer: said Mobby with a worried tone.

-We'd better turn back. Let's go !!!! Fred said.

They set off on a fast ride towards the farm.

At the farm, Mr Eddy Smith was still on the veranda with his wife and some servants. They were waiting for the return of the foreman with the slaves who had run away, but they were surprised to see Fred and the others coming with such a hurried gallop that they seemed to be pursued by the devil himself. No sooner had they set foot on the ground than Mr. Eddy stepped forward.

-Where are the fugitives? asked Mr. Eddy.

-They escaped with the slave hunters' horses," replied Fred.

-How is that possible?" asked Mr. Eddy.

-We found the bodies of the slave hunters mutilated and torn to shreds on the ground," said Mobby.

-Mutilated by whom, are these poor negroes strong enough to defend themselves? asked Mr. Eddy.

-Mutilated by a beast, a monster, a beast, I don't know, but the bodies were unrecognizable: Fred asserted.

-You want me to believe that I lost my brave slaves because of a supposed beast who would have come to their rescue? asked Mr Eddy.

-It's the truth," said Mobby.

Discouraged, Mr. Eddy returned to his house without saying anything more. In the barn, all the slaves were awake and had gathered at the gate, the windows and the smallest openings on the plank wall. They were curious to know if their escaped brothers had been caught. The news of their escape brought a big smile of happiness to faces darkened by the hardship of chores. A nostalgic song of African celebration rose from the barn. For once the slaves were happy to know that some of them had regained their freedom.

***

It was a night like any other night in that autumn season, a dark, moonless night. It seemed that night that the stars had refused to shine in the infinite firmament. The only bazaar in the area was run by Alan Fuhler. This German, a former slave trader who had come to sell slaves in the port several times, had turned into a grocer. He had named his shop "Pot and Fork". It was in the bar of this establishment that all the slave hunters of the region gathered at nightfall to organise the beating and to watch for any escape of slaves. They used to tell each other about their exploits in recovering fugitive slaves while laughing over a glass of beer. That evening they were all sad, they had just heard the news that three of their number had died during a fugitive slave recovery operation. Mac Cune, the oldest of the slave hunters, stood up and walked over to the counter.

-Can someone explain to me what the hell happened?

-I heard they were skinned by a wild beast, we suspect a panther: Alan Fuhler explained, polishing his counter with his new white towel.

-How is this possible?" asked a newcomer; it was Mr. Kane Alritz, a wealthy farm owner who was returning from the port with a wagon full of slaves. His car was in the yard and he had stopped at the Pot and Fork to have a drink and clear his throat before continuing on his way.

-This is no joke, Mr Kane," Alan replied, pouring him a glass of beer.

In this small area everyone was on first-name terms and Alan's bazaar was the only meeting point after the church.

After taking a deep sip he put down his glass and said:

-Do you want me to believe that your friends were attacked by an animal that only exists in the equatorial forest of Africa? How can such an animal be here? asked Mr. Kane.

No one in the audience could find an answer to his question, and the silence grew more and more oppressive. Mr Kane finished his glass of beer, paid his change and headed for the exit. As he crossed the threshold Alan called out to him.

-Be careful on the road, my dear friend. Alan said to him in farewell.

Mr. Kane walked out into the dark night.

It was an autumn night, the leaves were falling, carried by the cold breath of the season. A cold breeze made Mr Kane Alritz shiver and he adjusted his jacket before getting on his wagon and heading back to his farm. After a few miles, he was still alone on the road in the middle of the night driving his carriage. In the back, the slaves were crowded together, pressed against the gate, their eyes wide open, they were mute and disoriented. A A curious thought crossed Mr. Kane's mind, but he took a deep breath of air to relax and refused to believe such a hypothesis.

-It is practically impossible to meet such an animal in the middle of Central America, he thought.

He was meditating alone, his black stallions that he had just acquired at the slave market were as silent at the back as tombs. A dozen or so colossus with strong mandibles, he had made the first choice. All these slaves wore heavy chains on their feet, necks and wrists. Mr. Kane had carefully chained them up before loading them into the wagon so as not to risk any escape attempt. He had locked the car door himself and put the keys in the inside pocket of his jacket before holding the reins of the wagon. The road was dark and it was by memory that he managed to move forward. He was humming a song to keep from falling asleep when suddenly a light caught his attention on the road a hundred yards ahead.

-It looks like someone has lit a fire on the road! he said indignantly.

The closer the wagon got, the more it seemed as if the flame was coming towards him. About ten metres away, he realised that it was not a fire but a swarm of fireflies that had invaded and illuminated the road. Suddenly the horses bent over and refused to move. This sudden stop risked causing Mr. Alritz to fall.

-Calm down! What is happening to you? Are you already afraid of these fireflies?

To his surprise, the swarm of fireflies moved towards him, his horses panicked. Looking closely at the fireflies, he was astonished to see two bloodshot, glittering eyes staring at him from among the insects.

-Damn it!" he cried.

He reached into his waistband, drew his pistol, and when he fired, he saw nothing in the way. No trace of the fireflies.

-And if the grocer was right, he thought.

Distraught by this vision, he launched his horses into a mad dash along the dark road. At the end of a sharp bend a few metres further on, he found the fireflies in front of him and the horses panicked and the wagon overturned, breaking on the arid ground of the granite road. Mr. Kane Alritz found himself thrown into the brush at the side of the road. He lost his pistol in the fall and was blindly searching the weeds for his weapon when he felt a gasp behind him. He turned just in time to see the two bright eyes of a beast of prey leaping at him. Mr. Alritz had no time to cry for help when he felt his belly being torn apart and his entrails shredded by the sharp claws of the beast whose existence he had denied a few hours ago. Mr. Kane's assailant had disappeared and he found himself alone again in the tall grass. He looked around, wondering where the beast that had attacked him had gone, when he felt a cold draft enter his belly. He bent down and found to his amazement that his insides were out. With his hands he hurriedly put back inside whatever was hanging outside and covered himself with the rags of his shredded jacket, his blood flowing freely through the opening. In spite of the cold of that late hour of the night, the fear of seeing the beast return to the charge made him sweat profusely. After a few minutes, Mr. Alritz felt his insides getting colder and colder and he began to shiver with all his limbs. With a burst of effort, he staggered to the road, approached his wagon and fell dead; drained of all his blood.

The prisoners recovered from the fall of the cart and freed themselves from the wreckage of the caravan. Heavy chains bound them to each other, they approached in single file They went to the road and found their master's body lying on the ground. They searched his pockets for the key ring, which they quickly found in the inside pocket of the jacket. They were lucky that the key ring had not fallen into the grass when Mr Kane fell. They freed themselves one after the other and disappeared into the opaque darkness that reminded them of their now distant African village.

***

Once again, the morning gazette carried a headline about the death of another rich farm owner brutally murdered by a strange beast; this time it was Mr. Kane Alritz. All over the New Orleans area, people were informed that a panther was attacking slave traders and large farmers. It was felt that this animal had appeared to help the slaves. Several slaves were freed in the region. The escape of the slaves was a great loss for the slave traders and plantation owners, who were already wondering how to remedy this situation, which was disadvantageous for their business.

Almost all the inhabitants of this region were Christians. Every Sunday morning they met at the only chapel within 10 miles. The chapel was run by the Reverend Father Ignacio Wesburn who was very famous for his homilies. This Italian-born man, who had gone bankrupt in the slave trade, had converted to Catholicism and was assigned to the parish of "Holy Light". The churchyard was the meeting place for rich aristocrats, slave traders and farmers. They met there once a week after the Sunday service to hear about the activities on the various farms during the previous week.

During his homily, Reverend Father Ignacio called out to his congregation.

- Something bad has happened in the region. This wild beast that attacks the noble citizens. This monster from the underworld is here and is only waiting for the right moment to kill, everywhere and at any time you can meet it. It is time to take up the challenge or else the beast will pursue us into our beds. He told them.

After a moment of silence, the reverend continued.

-Unite and the Lord will support you in your fight against evil; keep the faith and you will no longer be oppressed.

With these words he ended his preaching. After leaving the church, all the faithful gathered in the courtyard and agreed to meet at nightfall with all the slave hunters in Alan Fuhler's grocery shop; from there they would organise the hunt for the beast that was terrorising the inhabitants of the region.

As soon as night fell, Mr. Eddy Smith left his farm with his faithful foreman Fred and they went to the meeting place. The bar of Alan's grocery shop was crowded that night, people had come from all over the region with the firm intention of finding a solution to their plight. Mr Eddy spoke and outlined the situation and the damage that the presence of this vile animal was doing to their members and to the economy of the large farmers. Finally, he recommended to all the volunteers present:

-We must find this monster wherever it is and eliminate it or this cycle will not end. He told them.

Motivated by this speech, all the volunteers raised their glasses and chanted:

-Death to the monster! Death to the beast! who would slaughter the beast. After this evening of decision-making and fine-tuning, the participants were happy and toasted the success of the project and the end of the terror. The next day they would meet outside the town with weapons and hunting equipment to hunt down the animal and put an end to it once and for all. At the end of the evening Alan had made a very good deal, his day was more profitable than the other times. All the customers had left and he had closed the central door to do his accounts. He smiled broadly as it had been a very successful day. After doing the accounts, he washed his glasses and put them away. He was polishing the formica on his counter when he heard a noise on the door. He stopped moving and listened; the noise was repeated.

-It's locked! Alan shouted, imagining he was a latecomer looking for a nightcap. He continued to clean his counter when this time the noise was heard from the window side of the shop. At that moment Alan thought it might be a thief coming to take the day's takings. He ducked under his counter and got up with an old sawed-off Winchester and headed for the shop. In his shop he looked at the wall to see if the thief had entered through an opening and found none. He did see that the air vent was there, but it was screened and quite high. He concentrated his attention on this nozzle when a hairy, clawed paw landed on the grille of the opening. Frightened by the sudden appearance, Alan threw himself backwards and fell on the piled up crates which scattered on the floor with a hellish noise. He recovered quickly enough and fired a shot at the nozzle before getting up and running back into the great hall. At that moment the light bulbs went out all over the shop, and an opaque darkness fell. Alan ran to take cover behind his counter and watched for the slightest movement or noise to draw his gun. For a moment all seemed quiet but then a loud noise broke the silence. It was the solid wooden central door which had just broken under the impact of a violent intrusion. Terrified, Alan clutched his gun to his heart and made the sign of the cross before standing up to fire shots at the door. After his third shot he realised that there was no one there and stopped to watch, his breath coming in. A heavy groan could be heard not far from him in the silence of the room. Then Alan Fuhler noticed that two hypnotic eyes were staring at him in the dark, not far from his counter. Gathering all his strength, he tried to use his weapon once more, but it was the sight of those two luminous eyes approaching his head at great speed that he saw before he felt sharp claws pierce his throat, crushing his carotid artery and shattering his cervical vertebrae. Allan felt a heavy sensation invade his head, his blood spurting out onto the bar shelves and the Formica of the counter he had just waxed. His head fell back, hanging on the shreds of flesh that remained of what used to be his neck; he fell dead.

It was daybreak and the sheriff arrived at the scene early, alerted by a resident who had come to do his shopping. He was stunned by the massacre, but despite his investigations, he found no trace that could help him in his investigation, no footprints.

***

All the hunters in the area and the good men had come tonight to deal with the beast once and for all. The news of Alan Fuhler's death had increased their desire for revenge. Their friendly friend would no longer keep them informed of news from the other farms; all because of this animal of misfortune. Mr. Eddy was leading the troop, the dogs were excited. They all set off in the dark of night through the forest in search of the animal to be shot. The hunt went wrong and all the dogs and the Two thirds of the hunters stayed there. The armed hunters shot at the beast but failed to kill it, as if its skin was impervious to gunfire.

The news of the failed hunt further alarmed the slave traders and farm owners. Reverend Father Ignacio heard the news and went to his chapel, knelt on his prie-dieu and implored the Eternal to rid them of this misfortune that was opposed to the prosperity of his faithful, given the large tithe that the rich farmers paid every Sunday, he was certain that the ruin of the latter would be the downfall of his parish.

Two days later, with the first rays of sunlight filtering through the horizon, fireflies swirled around a black panther picking fresh herbs by the river. She chewed the herbs and sprinkled the chlorophyll on a wound on her right front paw, which healed immediately. Early that morning, Reverend Father Ignacio went to his barn and found that all his cows were decimated. He called the sheriff, who arrived and began a new investigation in the hope this time of finding a clue. The sheriff was surprised once again to see no traces on the ground. He found only the bodies of the cows lying in blood and mud but one thing caught his attention, a piece of wood cut from the pen had a few black hairs with a little blood on it. He made special mention of this in his report, and the rumour spread throughout the area that anyone seen with a new wound without justification would be charged and tried as guilty.

At Eddy Smith's farm, the foreman was supervising the work of the slaves on the plantation when he saw a brave negro with a bandage on his thigh.

-What's that? he asked.

The black man did not answer. Fred the foreman got off his horse and approached him.

-Where did you get that wound you're hiding?" he asked, reaching forward to undo the bandage.

The slave stopped his arm and looked into his eyes. Fred insisted, ripped off the bandage and a tree bark fell from it.

-This is my protection against the evil spirits of your home; my grandfather gave it to me," the black man explained, picking up the bark. He calmly reattached the bark to his thigh and looked defiantly at the foreman.

***

The Smith family was gathered around the table, Mr Eddy was sad.

-I'm broke, I've lost my good slaves and I can't go to the port to get them anymore: he complained.

The whole family remained silent.

-It's not going to happen like that, since these damned niggers now have a defender, he'll have to show me what he's got in his belly: declared Mr. Smith in a decided tone.

The sheriff in his office studied his report and found that no weapon had been able to harm the beast and only the piece of wood from the rectory stable had injured it, so he concluded that only a wooden stake could defeat the monster.

Today was the last Sunday of the year before. Reverend Ignacio in his homily reminded his congregation: -Your duty is to confess and get rid of all evil before the Nativity celebration. This celebration must mark the return of happiness and prosperity. Let us help ourselves and heaven will help us, we are not going to live forever in turmoil and fear. We must find a solution to our problem and the sooner the better.

At the end of the service, the farm owners gathered in the courtyard and Mr Eddy stepped forward and spoke:

-I propose that all the remaining slaves on the farms be assembled at my house at nightfall; this is the only way to remedy the situation in my opinion, for I have a plan.

Before the time of the gathering, Mr. Smith sent his wife and children to a nearby farm for shelter. All the slavers, farm owners and slaves gathered at the Eddy Smith farm. Night had once again drawn its dark curtain over them. The bosses and foremen were on the veranda and the slaves were gathered in the big yard. All these slaves had marks on their left shoulder blades following the initials of their owners. A large fire was lit in the courtyard and the flame illuminated the faces of the slaves who were darkened by fear. The sheriff arrived last, holding a couple of sharp wooden spears which he leaned against the wall in the corner of the veranda.

Taking a step forward, Mr. Eddy Smith spoke up:

-It seems that one of your pets is loose in our area and is slaughtering all the rich owners: he said in a stern tone. Wherever you have hidden him, you must bring him to us here and now or you will all be tortured and killed; one after the other, down to the smallest among you: continued Mr. Eddy in a threatening tone.

The slaves remained silent in the face of this threat; Mouna, whose child had fallen asleep on her shoulder, went to hide him in a dark corner of the barn and returned to the others. The slaves did not speak out, so the foremen took a first row of negroes of all sexes and led them to the middle of the yard to hang them on the poles and flogged them until they bled.

-Where have you hidden this animal of misfortune, don't make us kill you all! he shouted.

Only the sound of crackling flames disturbed the silence of that night. The slaves on the poles had all passed out from the pain and were no longer complaining, iron bars reddened under the embers. The executioners removed the iron bars, the ends of which were completely reddened, and placed them on the already bleeding backs of the slaves tied to the posts. Despite their fainting, the excruciating pain forced the last breath that kept them alive from their entrails in a howl of terror that tore through the dark night around the farm. Throwing their heads back, some of them expired, exhausted by the torture. Despite the torture of their brothers, the slaves in the rows remained silent. To finish off the first row, the foremen shouldered their rifles and prepared to shoot all those tied to the poles in the back before taking a second wave. Just as they were about to fire, a wild roar drew everyone's attention. They turned towards the noise and were surprised to see a swarm of fireflies swirling in a dark corner of the yard. The fireflies disappeared to reveal a huge black panther with bloodshot eyes glowing in the dark night. The beast opened its mouth and white fangs gleamed in the light of the flame. The beast charged towards the foremen, the flurry they unloaded on it did not prevent it from reaching them, and in total confusion, the beast lacerated them with its sharp claws, with speed and agility, getting rid of them in a few seconds. The beast turned towards the bosses who, surprised by the spectacle, had not had the reflex to flee. They were stunned by this animal, which they had asked to When they met, they managed to get up and barricaded themselves in the house. The sheriff went to pick up his spears and as he turned around he saw only the monster's sharp fangs coming in his face and felt the hot breath of the animal crushing his neck. The sheriff slumped to the ground, his neck broken, he dropped his spears and his body shook with spasms. He lay in agony, his blood pouring out of the large opening in his neck.

Mr Smith and the others inside clutched their guns. Terror was in their eyes. With a jerking sound, the huge panther smashed through the wooden window and rushed into the house. A volley of bullets was fired at it but it was still there. More furious than ever and advanced on them. With a ferocious thump, the monster pounced on them. The slaves in the courtyard listened to the pain and terror in the screams that emanated from inside the house. Some time later, an eerie silence fell over the farm.

The slaves, left to their own devices, were busy freeing and caring for their brothers and sisters who were on the poles. They were so busy that they did not see the Reverend Father Ignacio Wesburn arrive, who sneaked onto the veranda and found the sheriff dying. The latter whispered a few words in his ear before dying. The door of the house opened and Mr. Eddy came and sat quietly on his chair on the veranda before he died, his back was shredded.

The huge black panther came out of the house and advanced towards the slaves, a myriad of fireflies flickering around it. The animal advanced towards Mouna, stopped in front of her and looked her in the eyes. The slaves were all surprised and stopped what they were doing, and stood up, silent and admiring what was happening.

Reverend Father Ignacio, with a stealthy hand, picked up a wooden spear that the sheriff had dropped. While Mouna timidly stroked the panther's back, the wooden spear pierced the animal's rib.

-Die, animal of misfortune! shouted Reverend Father Ignacio, raising his hand to send a second spear.

The fireflies disappeared, and in a fit of rage, the animal leapt at Reverend Ignacio before he had time to send his second spear and tore him to shreds. A few moments later, the beast also collapsed in agony. Out of compassion, a brave slave came and ripped the spear out of its rib. The panther moaned and died in a brief spasm. All the slaves surrounded the animal and contemplated it with an air of desolation and emotion. The women struggled to hold back their tears. To everyone's surprise, on the ground, the panther was transformed, the black fur that covered the animal retracted entirely inside its body. Two feet and two arms replaced the legs, its face became human. Now, instead of the panther, it was Mouna's son who was lying there, bathed in blood. A firefly came out of the child's nose and flew away into the night. Discovering this, Mouna fell on her knees and carried her son in her arms, crying.

-My son! He killed my son! Djeyou! Djeyou! Answer me: she called, shaking the child's now lifeless body.

Mouna's voice was lost in the silence of the cold New Orleans night. This night resembled that of their Africa, the Africa that these free slaves all dreamed of returning to.

Some time after the abolition of slavery in the United States and the appearance of the

Ku-Klux-Klan, which continued to oppress blacks, the ardent defenders of the black cause called themselves "the Black Panthers", which simply meant "the black panthers".

By Anselme Djeukam

BP : 105 Bafoussam

Cameroun

Tel : 00237 675 928 988

Email: adjeukam@gmail.com