Word Count: 7,401
My business took me to remote places all over the world. I probably spent more time in my airplane than I did at all three of my homes combined. I was finally on my way back to the United States after negotiating the mineral mining rights in a small area of a South American rain forest. Seven grueling days of negotiations occurred before I was finally able to settle into an agreement with the government officials.
Although a large portion of the citizens of this country did not recognize the current government as legitimate, it was they who held the military power. Thus, it was with them our company made the arrangements to mine several areas of the rainforest. It was going to take a large deal of clearing to construct routes from the mining sites to the main roads, and mining towns would need to be constructed due to the remote locations of the mineral depostits.
As my private jet taxied to the company hangar, I began to feel a strange sense of dread. It felt as if someone was watching me, but the only people aboard this flight were the two pilots and myself. Still, I could not shake this feeling that something sinister was hiding aboard the jet stalking me.
I was sure it was nothing more than jet lag, and this crazy old man who stopped my motorcade apparently still played on my nerves. This man claimed he was the witch doctor or some other ludicrous thing for one of the tribes we were going to have to relocate. Because of the placement of certain waterways, we needed to build one of our main mining roads through the land currently occupied by this tribe.
Regardless of what compensation we offered these people, they refused to be relocated. In response, the government agreed to move the people for us. This man blocked the road as I was leaving the mine location, and none of the locals in the motorcade would remove him. Despite being from the developed part of their country, even these men still feared this tribal medicine man.
The shaman chanted and beat upon a small drum as he seemed to be begging for help from the sky. Eventually I asked my driver what the man was saying, and he told me he was placing a curse on all those responsible for disturbing their ancient tribal lands. I did not believe in such nonsense, but I asked the driver if he could tell me what the nature of this curse was.
Unfortunately, the driver could not tell me much, as the dialect the crazy man used was obscure and not common knowledge. I grew wary of this old man’s escapades, and I was very close to exiting the vehicle and physically dragging him out of the way myself. I was sick of being in this heat, sick of being in this humidity and sick of being in this underdeveloped country.
I guess the witch doctor felt he accomplished his goal, because he eventually moved out of the way of the vehicles and stood beside the road. Even though I knew the windows were tinted dark enough that this fellow could not see me inside, it still seemed like he locked his gaze with mine as I passed by. I was not able to get those deep green eyes out of my mind since.
A car was waiting for me as I exited the plane, but other than that this area of the airfield was completely empty. The solitude of the darkness did not help my already irritated nerves as all it seemed to do was intensify that feeling something was out there hiding, watching me.
My driver stood holding the door open for me as I made my way from the jet to the car. Waiting until I was seated comfortably and wearing my seatbelt, the driver shut the door and took his place behind the steering wheel. I was eager to get home and get cleaned up. I was so ready to clean the sweat and filth from that South American hell hole from my body, eat something for dinner and get to bed.
Not wanting to delay my night even further, I had my driver call ahead with our estimated time of arrival and to have someone draw my bath and prepare my dinner. I just wanted to bathe, eat my meal for the evening and get into my comfortable bed. I had to get up early in the morning to present my report to the board of directors, and I wanted to at least get a few hours of sleep first.
As my driver crossed through an intersection, I noticed a homeless man standing underneath the streetlight. Normally this would not be anything to cause me any concern, but I was sure I recognized the man. I did not get a long look at him, so I was sure my mind was playing tricks on me, but I was almost certain the homeless man was in reality the shaman from the dirt road. I could see those strange green eyes as we passed by the homeless man, and although he was dressed much differently than he was in South America, he bore a striking resemblance to the shaman from the remote tribe.
I did not say anything, but I did look to see if the driver had any reaction to the man’s presence. He either did not notice the strange man standing underneath the light, or he did not think him notable enough to pay him any attention. I turned to look out the back windshield to see if I could get a better look at the vagrant, but to both my shock and horror, I saw no one standing there. There was no one standing there, and there was no where he could have gone in that short of a time to be out of vision.
Apparently, the driver noticed my reaction, because he asked me if everything was alright. I told him everything was fine; I simply thought I saw someone I recognized. In a way I hoped the driver would ask me if I was talking about the homeless man, but he did not mention the green-eyed man at all. I wanted to inquire as to if he even saw the tramp, but deep down I was afraid of what his response might be.
As we continued the drive home, I had a nagging urge to look out the back windshield again to see if I could see that man behind us. I knew there was no possible way the man could keep up with us, but I simply could not shake the feeling that those green eyes were still staring at me.
My stomach growled as I saw a hotdog vendor pushing his cart down the street. It was not unusual to see such vendors this late in the night, but they were always in areas frequented by large numbers of people. The only thing I ever knew of around here were business buildings and warehouses. There were no nightclubs, bars, or anywhere else that might be attracting this man’s business.
As terrified as I was, I could not take my eyes off of the vendor. He turned to look at me as my car approached closely behind him, and again I saw a familiar face with those strange green eyes. It was not possible for this shaman to once again be in my path, but I recognized that dark skin, peppery gray hair and the strangely deep-green pupils. It was too dark for me to see the man clearly, yet I still got an extremely clear look at his face.
I attempted to resist the urge to look through the back windshield again, but I could not stop myself. Turning to look behind the car, I saw no one and no hotdog cart on the side of the street. Again, there was nowhere for the man to have gone in such a short time, but I knew I saw him. His face was too vivid to be my imagination. Although I was exhausted, I could not accept the fact that I could be tired enough to be hallucinating.
The idea of a curse was absolutely absurd, and I outright refused to believe this was the case. I was just tired, hungry and in need of a good bathing. I was sure once I was cleaned up and had a full belly, I would feel much better than I did now. The local cuisine of the region of South America I visited was too rough on my stomach, so I only ate when I was aboard the jet. Unfortunately, the crew was unable to restock anything more than snacks before the flight home, so I was sure it was my hunger getting to me.
I was happy to finally reach the gated community in which I lived, as I was sure that strange man would not be able to follow me here. A seven-foot-high stone wall surrounded my property, and the entire grounds were under view of surveillance cameras while also being patrolled by armed security. Home was the one place in my life I truly felt safe after traveling to third world locations in search of resources to exploit.
Even after a bath and a full belly, I still did not get a decent night’s rest. Since I had to present my report early in the morning, I got most of it together on the flight back to the States, but there was still a bit of work to be done before presenting it to the board. Between my concern with my presentation and the thoughts of that green-eyed shaman somehow following me back from South America, I managed to get three and a half hours of sleep at best.
I tried to do what preparation I could during the drive to the office in the morning, but my mind was too occupied with examining the faces of everyone we passed. When I only saw a few people along the street last night, everyone looked like that shaman. Now with the streets full of people, I did not see anyone even resembling him anywhere.
My assistant met me at the car as we arrived to the office building, and I gave him some files I wanted him to copy for distribution to the board. I also gave him several charts I wanted blown up for visual displays. Still having more than an hour before the board convened, I went to my office to finish up my preparations for the presentation I had to give on my trip to the rainforest.
Behind me, coming from outside the window, I could hear a faint banging which sounded like the short drum the shaman struck as he cast his idiotic curse on me. Turning around, I obviously saw nothing nearby that could be making the noise. My office was on the twenty-fourth floor of this building, so it would be impossible for anyone short of the window washers to be outside the window.
I was sure the drumming was nothing more than noise from a construction site, but it made it very difficult to focus on completing my task. Only minutes after wrapping up my notes, my secretary entered my office to inform me it was time to go up to the next floor of the building. My assistant was already in the board room with the forms and charts I sent him to have printed.
Gathering the necessary materials into my attaché case, I snapped it closed and made my way through the office to the elevator. I was quite annoyed when the elevator doors opened and I saw someone from building maintenance in the elevator with a large garbage receptacle. He was dark-skinned, and for a moment I thought it was the shaman again.
As if anticipating the question that was about to cross my lips, the man looked to me and said, “I know, I’m sorry, but the maintenance elevator is out of order.”
I climbed onto the elevator and found the button for the twenty fifth floor was already lit. A chill passed through me and I hoped it was not visible to the man next to me. The man’s opinion was not a concern as I cared very little for a janitor’s thoughts. For some reason though, the man’s mere presence made me feel uncomfortable.
When we reached the next floor, I climbed off the elevator and headed straight to the board room. This entire floor was designed with large meeting and board rooms, most of which had glass walls. I could see more than a dozen people waiting for me as soon as I exited the lift and rounded the corner. I could see my assistant did his job and got the charts and aerial photographs for my presentation set up.
The meeting went as meetings usually go. I provided a lot of dry numbers and statistics, but the basic gist of the entire presentation was the fact the company stood to make billions through the exploitation of that third-world country’s mineral wealth. During my trip I successfully negotiated mining rights with the semi-legitimate government there under the stipulation the mines only provided a percentage to that government specifically.
Briefly I went over the displacement of some of the local populations, but no one really seemed to have any concern with this. When I was going over the logistics of relocating the few remote tribes, I noticed the maintenance man who came up with me in the elevator emptying the trash bins in another meeting room. As I explained this part of the operation to the board members, the man turned around and a shock lit me up like a bolt of lightning. I staggered backwards but managed to catch my balance before I fell to the floor.
Everyone in the room stood as my assistant and another one of the company’s VPs rushed to my side. When I looked up again, I did not see anyone anywhere emptying trashcans at all. Only a moment ago I saw him turn around, and it was without a doubt the green-eyed shaman who cast a curse on me as he held up my motorcade.
Was there some possible way this man was following me, stalking me in order to frighten me into revoking my agreement with the installed government there?
Some of those present wanted to call an ambulance for me, but I insisted it was nothing more than a lack of sleep over the past couple of days, and I simply needed to take a seat for the rest of my presentation. While he was still at my side, I instructed my assistant to have my vehicle ready for me to return home after the meeting ended. I was not feeling well, and I needed to get back into my bed and get back to sleep.
Subconsciously I pulled my lucky rabbit’s foot from my pocket and stroked it with my thumb for the rest of the meeting. When I was finally finished, my assistant told me my driver was waiting for me in the executive parking level. He walked with me to the elevator, and I asked him to go back and gather up the presentation materials. I would go ahead to the sub-garage where my car awaited me.
Something struck me when I looked at the panel of buttons on the inside wall of the elevator. I was currently on the twenty-fifth floor of a building in which I had an office on the twenty-fourth floor. One number that did not exist on the panel was a button for the thirteenth floor. Here I was, caressing my lucky totem in a building with no thirteenth floor as I continued to convince myself that shaman’s curse was nothing but a bunch of superstition.
Inside me I felt a growing concern that I got myself into something I might not be able to escape. I inserted my executive key so the elevator would not stop until it reached the parking level in order to make sure I had a lonely ride to the basement. Without stopping at any other floors, it would not take long at all before I reached my destination.
My heart froze and my blood ran cold when the elevator came to a sudden stop. According to the lights next to the buttons, I was stuck in between the twelfth and fourteenth floor. Panic filled every pore of my being as I felt a rush of claustrophobia overtake me. I was trapped and had no way out.
Picking up the emergency phone, I heard absolutely nothing on the other end. I yelled repeatedly for someone to come rescue me from this box suspended in this long elevator shaft, but no one ever picked up from the other end. I tried the emergency call button, but found that did not work either.
My anxiety and panic were soon replaced by anger and frustration with the situation. After ten minutes I thought surely someone could have gotten me out of here by now. I had nothing on me with which I could attempt to pry the doors open, possessing nothing more than the clothes on my body and the briefcase in my hand.
For several minutes I pounded on the metal doors of the elevator and on the sides for several minutes as well as beating on the sides in hopes of drawing someone’s attention to my current plight. When I finally stopped, I could hear the sounds echoing up and down the elevator shaft. I wanted to vomit when I noticed the reverberations sounded eerily like the rhythm of the shaman’s drum.
Although I knew I had plenty of air, I began to feel like I was suffocating. Loosening my tie and unbuttoning the top buttons of my shirt, I tried to calm myself down and slow my breathing. When the elevator finally began to once again drop toward the garage level, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I glanced down to my watch and saw I was trapped there in that vertical shaft for slightly more than an hour.
As the elevator doors opened, I stayed back several feet until they were completly open, fully expecting there to be police and firemen who were trying to free me. Instead, I found my driver waiting beside the car no more than twelve feet from the elevator entrance. He simply stood there holding the car door opened for me as if everything was exactly as it should be.
I shouted at him and asked why no one tried to rescue me from where I was trapped in that box suspended between two floors.
My driver looked at me with genuine confusion and replied to my berating him by simply saying, “But sir, they only called a few minutes ago to tell me you were on you way down.”
That was absurd. I glanced at my watch once more and found the time to be more than an hour earlier than it indicated when I was in the elevator. This simply could not be. I know I was stuck in that elevator for quite some time, and according to what my watch said only minutes prior, I was stuck in that box for nearly an hour and ten minutes.
Stifling my anger, I ceased my verbal abuse of my driver and quickly climbed into the car. I did not look around to see if anyone was in the vicinity because I was terrified of seeing that green-eyed, dark-skinned man again.
Several minutes after we exited the garage, my driver awkwardly and reluctantly asked me how I was doing. I told him I was simply over worked with very little sleep, and I just wanted to get home and get to bed. That was all I said, and he did not try to push the conversation any further. Had he done so, I would have had to be rude and tell him I simply did not feel like talking.
I avoided looking up as much as I could until we were back in the garage of my heavily secured mansion. I was so afraid I was going to see that shaman on the crowded sidewalks somewhere, I resisted the urge to turn my head and look out of the windows the entire way. I was so happy when we turned onto my long driveway, and I saw my home in front of me.
When I entered the house, I told my man servant to have a meal brought to my room, and I immediately headed upstairs. After locking my chamber doors, I made my way around my bedroom, ensured all the windows were locked, closed the blinds and drew the curtains. Although my house was set back far from the road, one could still see inside while the oversized windows were unobscured.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when there was a knock at my door. One of my servants was letting me know my meal was prepared and ready to be brought inside of my room. Normally he would simply knock and walk in, but this time I had the door to my bedroom securely fastened. Reluctantly I made my way to the large mahogany door and turned the key releasing the bolt holding the portal closed. Rather than letting the servant into my room, I took the cart from him and told him that would be all for the night. I would leave the cart in my room for the night, and someone could retrieve it in the morning.
I rolled the cart over to one of the chairs placed about the room and quickly consumed the generous meal in front of me. Placing the lid back over the tray, I wheeled the cart back over close to the bedroom door and made my way over to my washroom. I did not bother with a shower, but I cleaned myself up with a cloth before putting on my bathrobe and walking over to the bed.
As I approached my four posted, king-sized bed I thought I heard something moving underneath it. It sounded like something scraping or scratching its way across the hardwood floor. Halting my progress, I lowered myself to my knees while staying far away from the bed as I looked to see what was making the strange sounds.
Although my house was very well kept and cleaned, I thought perhaps a mouse or possibly even a rat somehow made it inside and that was the shuffling I heard under my bed. When I got down close enough to the floor to see what was underneath the bed, I caught a brief glimpse of something running under the headboard and behind the nightstand.
I screamed involuntarily when I saw the small creature, not because the creature surprised me, but because it ran on its back two legs. The small creature appeared rodent-like, but it was no rat or mouse with which I was at all familiar. I thought its movements were too much like that of a primate than a rat, but whatever it was did not look like anything that belonged to the natural world.
Moments later there was a pounding at my door, and I could hear one of my security guards on the other side calling out to me. I only turned my gaze away from the small creature for a brief second, but it was long enough for it to disappear from my sight. Reluctantly, I rose to my feet and quickly moved over to open my bedroom door. On the other side I found my manservant as well as one of my more trusted security guards.
I did not tell him exactly what I saw, but I did say it was a small animal of some sort. The security guard began to search around the nightstand and bed, but he found nothing out of the ordinary. I was not satisfied with this and had him call some of the other help to assist him in his search of my bedroom for this bipedal creature I saw running underneath my bed.
For more than an hour they searched my room, and at a point I realized everyone must think me crazy by this point. After having them check all the windows to make sure they were all tightly secured, I dismissed the four people now in my room and locked the door behind them. Once everyone was out of my bedchamber, I took one more look underneath the bed and behind the nightstand before climbing into the sheets.
I could not believe I was letting that primitive shaman get to me so intensely. If I could only get a good night’s sleep, I knew I would feel much better both physically and mentally. I was sure by that time this anxiety and paranoia that kept me so on edge would finally subside. This was simply ridiculous for me, a man of my high financial and social stature, to be so upset and terrified of some primitive, third-world religion. I was a man of facts and figures.
I finally drifted off to sleep perhaps thirty minutes or so after getting into bed. Although I did manage to fall to sleep rather quickly, I tossed and turned for the next several hours as nightmares invaded my dreams. Many times in my life I experienced horrifying dreams, but this one seemed more real than reality.
I found myself surrounded by dense jungle. I could feel the humidity adding to the dampness of my own perspiration which already drenched my clothing. The sounds of birds and a myriad of other creatures calling out into the forest was almost deafening, and somehow carried an angry tone with it. It was as if the entire jungle itself turned its rage against me.
From every direction, I felt eyes on me. It was not the same sensation of being in the forest with common animals, it felt more like dozens of people were hiding amongst the foliage and in the trees observing every movement I made. My gaze darted this way and that, frantically looking for my observers, but I saw nothing but dense green foliage wherever I looked.
My instinct was to run, but I had no idea to where I would run. Danger seemed to be in any direction I could possibly turn, but standing still did not feel like an option. A sudden silence fell over the jungle and that was enough. I did not know what I was running from or where it was, but I began to try to fight my way through the dense vegetation with every bit of strength I could muster. Running was not possible as the jungle was thicker than any forest I ever hiked through in my life. Fleeing consisted more of climbing, pushing and fighting which was the only way I could make any semblance of progress.
I woke up in a cold sweat as I thought I felt something grab me from behind. I jolted up in the bed and frantically looked around my room for my pursuer ready to jump out of my bed and resume my flight. I heard the sound of the humidifier blowing and the faint sound of air coming out of the air-condition vents which gave me some measure of comfort, made me once again feel like I was in familiar environment.
As I caught my breath, I used the sleeve of my pajama shirt to wipe the dripping sweat from my face. I glanced up to the top of the bedpost nearest my left foot, and standing on the post was that diminutive bipedal creature perched on the very top. Its very presence made me whimper in fear as I looked in to the one large, green eye resting in the center of its head.
I pushed frantically with my feet until my back pressed hard against the headboard, and that was when I noticed the second one. One of these pigmy creatures stood atop both bedposts at the foot of the bed, staring at me with their one large, green eye. The two creatures stared at me with the gaze of that godless shaman who somehow stalked me for the past few days.
Grabbing one of my pillows, I threw it out onto the floor to activate the dim lighting that comes on when I climb out of the bed during the night. Immediately the illumination in the room increased, and when I turned my gaze back up to the bedposts, I saw nothing that should not be there. Afraid to put my feet on the floor for what might be hiding underneath my bed, I got to my knees and carefully scanned my room for anything that should not be there. Everything appeared exactly as it should, except for the disheveled bed and the pillow lying on the floor.
Very slowly and with incredible caution, I leaned over the side of my bed and took a glance under the bed skirt to see if I saw anything. My heart raced as I carefully lowered my head and raised the skirt, and to my relief I saw nothing under the bed. Peering over to my clock, I saw I only had three hours before my manservant would come to my room to wake me in the morning. Drenched in sweat and with my heart racing, I knew there was little to no chance of me falling to sleep again. I also knew I could not function for yet another day on only a few hours of sleep.
Picking up the phone, I called down to security to inform them I would not be going to the office in the morning. I also instructed them to pass on orders not to wake me; I was finally going to get myself a full day’s rest after everything I experienced. I would probably have the doctor come once I was again awake to see if I possibly contracted some illness. Perhaps it was nothing more than a fever causing the night sweats and the mild hallucinations.
Climbing out of bed, I grabbed a clean pair of pajamas and made my way into my washroom. After drying myself off with my soft, plush towels, I put on some new bed clothes and once again tried to go to sleep. This time, I set the lights to stay on dim rather than dark. Were something to happen again, I wanted to make sure there was adequate lighting to allow me a clear view of the entire room.
I wanted to take a sedative to get me back to sleep, but I did not want to use anything that may dull my senses later. Given the surreal circumstances in which I recently found myself, I did not think being drugged would assist the situation any. It was probably getting close to morning light by the time I finally calmed my mind enough to once again drift off to sleep.
The nightmares did not return, at least not of which I was aware, and I managed to complete a full night’s rest. Calling down to the kitchen to have some breakfast prepared for me, I then went to the washroom and took a long, hot shower. It felt good to clean myself off after such a disturbed, sweaty night. After getting dressed in some comfortable clothing as I would not be heading into the office today, I made my way down to the first floor and headed for the dining room for my late breakfast.
It was not difficult at all for me to pick up on the mood filling my home that morning. The house staff made an attempt to act as if everything were normal, but they all seemed to shy away from making any unnecessary conversation with me. After I called my security to my bedroom last night, I expected the staff to begin letting the rumors spread about my collapsing sanity.
Following breakfast, I decided I would take a walk around my property. My mansion sat on eighteen acres of land, and I had many beautiful walking paths from which to choose for my morning stroll. Given my nightmare from the previous night, I decided to stay away from the paths that led close to or into the forest. It was not the jungle that was more like a prison in my dreams, but it was still too dense for my shaken nerves.
Although the air was still cool, the heat of the day was beginning to push its way into the region. Ultimately, I decided to veer toward the woods so the forest edge could at least provide me with some shade to make the walk slightly more comfortable. This path took me through a hedge garden filled with shrubs manicured into the forms of various animals, buildings and geometric shapes.
Even though this path did not take me any closer than fifty feet or so away from the tree line, I still felt uncomfortable. No sooner was I about to take a branch in the pathway that would bring me closer to the center of my land where the fountains were located, I heard something rustling in the forest. It did not sound like a normal animal. Whatever this was, it sounded like it was intentionally kicking leaves and breaking twigs as if it wanted me to come after it. No force in this world could make me go into the forest’s edge after my experiences over the last few days.
Was whatever this was stalking me in the forest trying to draw me to it, or was it trying to make me run the other direction?
My hands and knees trembled as I tried to decide what I should do. If this creature, this thing was trying to draw me into the forest, then running was probably the best option. On the other hand, whatever hid in the tree line stalking me may want me to run so as to make myself an easier target. It would take me at least five minutes to run back to my house, possibly a little longer if I attempted to avoid the forest as best I could.
How much time passed, I could not say, but it was probably at least five minutes. My body felt paralyzed as I continued to look into the forest for whatever could possibly be making this constant noise. Finally I could stand no more, and I turned and fled with every bit of speed my body could muster. I took good care of myself, so running all the way back to my house was nothing beyond what I could handle.
I reached the fountains and turned directly toward the back of my mansion. Once I was sure nothing followed me from the forest, I slowed my pace to a jog and did my best to appear to be doing nothing more than taking a morning constitutional. I knew my house staff was already talking about the incident last night, and I did not want to give them any more reason to gossip. If they saw me coming back from the garden running for my life, the staff would certainly begin to think I was falling apart. If they saw me coming back from a brisk jog, it would not seem any different than any other day I did not go into the office.
I was relieved to see my manservant come to the door rather than security. That told me they suspected nothing, and were going about their duties as normal. Taking the towel the servant handed to me, I wiped the sweat from my face and chest while I tried to steady my breathing. Handing the towel back to my manservant, I removed the glass of water he carried on a tray before heading to one of the downstairs washrooms to wash the sweat and dirt off my body.
Once in the washroom, I turned on the shower to make a bit of noise then began a thorough search of the room before I felt comfortable enough to undress. Climbing into the steam-filled, frosted-glass shower, I began to wash the grime from my hair and face before proceeding to clean the rest of my body. With all the soap washed from my skin, I stood under the hot spray for another minute or two before ending my bath.
As soon as I shut off the water, I was sure I heard someone else in the washroom with me. I called out expecting it to be my manservant waiting with some fresh clothing. Instead of hearing him reply, I was answered instead by a cackling, sinister laughter. Even though the shower was filled with steam and the heat from the water lingered in my body, I still felt chills course through me.
Because of the etched glass and steam buildup, I could not see outside the shower without opening the door. It was impossible for me to locate the source of the laughter, but I knew where it probably was because I heard some items fall off of the shelf above the hand sink. Throwing the door open so hard I thought it might break against the wall, I burst out of the steamy shower and prepared to fight whatever was there.
When I erupted from the glass walled bathing chamber, I found my valet standing there looking both shocked and terrified, as if he wholly expected me to launch into a full out assault. My instinct was to explode on the poor man and berate him for not answering me, but with the unbelievable events since my encounter with that shaman in the road, I bit my tongue. I simply told him he startled me as I was unaware he was in the washroom. I did not mention calling out, the cackling laughter or the sound of the toiletries hitting the floor.
After assisting me in drying myself and getting dressed again, I asked my manservant to have a small lunch prepared for me to be brought to my second-floor television viewing room. That room overlooked the backside of my land, and I always found the sculpted shrubs, hedge mazes, statues and fountains to be very calming and comforting. Normally I found this a very tranquil place, but from here I could see the forest edge from which I heard the strange noises earlier. Consuming my meal rather quickly, I left that room out of fear of seeing or hearing something outside.
It was getting to the point that I was afraid to go anywhere in my house alone because I was terrified I was going to run into something. I did not know how it could possibly be that anything followed me back from the jungle, but with each strange occurrence I was convinced more and more the shaman’s curse was real. Initially I could not take such superstitions seriously, but there was nothing else that could explain the strange happenings, the strange encounters I was now having everywhere I went.
Initially I made my way to the library on the second floor as there were no external windows from which anything outside could see me. While I intended to stay in my library reading for an hour or so, the collections of books, a table and a multitude of chairs along with all the other decoration in the room made everything seem too busy. Many times I thought I saw movement or something in the room until I turned my gaze to find nothing there. Not knowing what else to do, I left the library and called for my manservant.
Although I rarely beat him, I enjoyed playing chess with my valet. My valet was probably the best chess player I knew. I thought perhaps sitting with him playing a game and having a glass of fifty-year-old brandy would bring me some measure of peace. I was distracted, so I did not play very well. The entire time I debated whether or not I should tell my manservant about the South American shaman’s curse and of the strange things I experienced ever since, but I was too concerned with him thinking me to be mad.
As we played, I noticed my ears began to ring and by the end of our game they were ringing quite loudly. My valet could see I was in some measure of discomfort and asked me if I would like a fresh glass of water. I told him to bring me a fresh glass of water along with a couple of aspirin as I was beginning to develop a headache.
My nerves were on edge, and I felt as though I was about to lose my mind. I lived in a world of logic and facts, and there were things happening to me for which I could provide no explanation. I thought to perhaps call for the doctor, as I thought I possibly caught some kind of jungle virus, but I showed no symptoms beyond my ringing ears and slight headache.
I did not notice, but when my manservant returned he told me he would retrieve me a towel because I apparently began sweating while he was gone. Knowing this, I told him to give my physician a call and have him come by to give me a checkup just to make sure I did not bring anything back with me. It would be irresponsible for me to not make sure I did not bring some pathogen from the southern hemisphere that could spread uncontrolled in this part of the world.
By the time my valet returned with my aspirin and water, I was beginning to feel a sharp pain in my left arm that seemed to be radiating to my chest. I obviously did not look well, because as soon as my manservant took one look at me he shouted into the hallway for someone to call the paramedics immediately. Rushing over to me as quickly as he could, my valet put the aspirin in my mouth and told me to chew. A second later he gave me a sip of water and told me to continue chewing until the nasty tasting pills were gone.
The pain in my chest continued to increase. I felt like something was constricting my torso while squeezing all the air out of my lungs. I struggled to maintain my breath as my valet held me on the floor wiping the cold sweat from my brow. Soon my vision started to blur as it felt like the entire room began to spin, and I heard my manservant yell out for help once again. Only moments later, I lost consciousness completely.
I did not feel the security guard performing compressions on my chest as my valet blew breaths into my lungs in a desperate attempt to keep me alive. The paramedics showed up only a few minutes later, but even after three times sending a shock through my chest with the defibrillator, they could not get my heart to resume beating. Five minutes later my doctor arrived to my house where he saw the ambulance with its lights flashing. Some of my staff rushed the doctor to my location, but by the time he arrived there was nothing he could do. Two minutes later he pronounced me dead.
Moments later the two paramedics lifted my limp body, placing me inside of a black body bag. Wrapping the ends of the bag around my head and feet, one of the paramedics began to zip my body inside the black bag. The last thing my dead eyes gazed upon before being closed in the darkness was one of the paramedics. He was a dark-skinned man with peppery gray hair and very distinct, very familiar green eyes. In only a matter of days, this man was able to stalk me, haunt me, or otherwise terrify me into cardiac arrest. My demise literally came as I was scared to death by the shaman’s curse.
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