Curse of the Nightfall

At the last day of the fiesta, we are one of the audiences of the beauty contest wherein eight beautiful natives, gorgeous in their inherent ethnic beauty vie for the crown. Ramon Arguelles is in the front row judging the event unmindful of what fate has in store for him tonight. He just doesn’t know that as the clock ticks, he is approaching his death closer in just few minutes in a way that ends his being a hypocrite. The intermission number proceeds and he excuse himself to the comfort room behind the covered court where the said event is in progress.

The back section of the venue is lighted sufficiently and there are no other people there except a stray dog licking his sores. He growls at him as though a threat.

‘Shoo!’, he interacts, motioning him off with his hand gestures. The dog is passive in return. There are four comfort rooms in a row and he picks the one on the left side farthest from the mangy dog. He locked the door, and performs his rectal privilege. The dog squeals in somewhat dreadful reaction to something. The priest ignores it. Slowly through the bottom of the door the black vapoury mist enters and is hissing in rage as it rises towards the prospective victim—a priest, a paedophile priest. It kills him like the other victims and hissing as though complacent to have taken life anew. Does it have to keep on killing?

The next day, it is big news. The fifth victim of the mysterious killer is a priest. The police station is being flocked by some radio reporters trying to investigate on the rising tide of killing in town suspiciously on the pattern of death—burnt brain and eyes. The police have nothing to reveal though as in reality they have no suspect in as much as its totally a mystery. This time the NBI intervenes. It’s becoming a national news as TV networks become interested. The local story reaches it on the national level as it become headline in the newspaper and TV networks due to its being a hard case with mysticism on the frontline. We are watching this at home.

‘Our town is on the headlines, we are getting famous, is all these mysterious killings have brought us.’, My father quips. He is a lawyer. My mother is a housewife and I have a little brother. His name is Tommy, an 8-year old elementary student nearby.

‘Maybe we should get out of town before any of us becomes a victim?’, my mother ushers in apprehension.

‘I don’t think the killer targets girls so rather than be afraid, we can do nothing but trust in God, pray.’ I suggested to calm my mother.

‘It’s the best thing we could do, you’re right Marie.’, my father added.

The next day, it is full moon and another falls prey, it’s a security guard in a bank. This time its now known through the pattern that it is done every full moon and that its by internal combustion. The NBI too is clueless and the more they dig deeper the more perplexed they become.