Retribution

By C Phillip

A flash fiction HORROR by C Phillip

The corroded stones lining the mouth of the old well dazzled under the full moon.  

Renuka peered over the edge into the pitch black depths below. The earthy smell of wet clay, the stench of decaying moss and the sulfurous odour of underground rocks hit her. Abandoned for centuries, the structure stood at the end of a barren path, branching off the main road from town towards the east. 

The town elders couldn’t remember when they last saw water in it. So why does it always smell so damp?

She held out her palm over the edge. Warm air tingled her skin. 

Is it time I finished this ritual?

Her eyes scanned the starless night sky. Her ears hungered for any lucid sound in the bleak, moonlit landscape. An eerie silence greeted her.

“Are you certain about this?” A gruff voice called from behind.

She turned to the speaker. 

An old man sat cross-legged on the dry ground next to a metal kiln about twenty steps away. A small fire blazed within the squared-shaped apparatus. The amber glow danced across the man’s frowning wrinkled brow, beak-like nose and thin pursed lips, distorting his severe visage into a most hideous apparition. 

He wore white from head to ankle; a turban, a long-sleeved shirt, and loose trousers. A pair of brown leather sandals lay close by on a smooth boulder. Arms crossed tight over his chest, he shivered; his thin cotton garments made poor protection in the cold night air. 

“Yes, Dewan Sahib,” Renuka said, “I hope you’re ready.”

“It’s been four hours,” he grumbled. “Must be well past midnight now. Where is your Naga Devata?”

“Patience.” Her mouth twitched, suppressing a smirk. “You can’t expect a god to keep time like we mortals do.”

He scoffed in anger. “Nonsense!”

She inhaled, quelling her temper. “If required, we shall return here tomorrow night.”

“What?”

“And the next night… and the next… until the ritual bears fruit.”

“Renuka Baai,” he cried in a hoarse whisper. “Are you mocking me right now? You said this would be over soon.”

“I didn’t say it would be over tonight.”

“Ridiculous!” He jumped to his feet. “Do you expect me to sit here every night? What if people find out about this? I’m Haridas Pranath Doshi! The prime minister of this kingdom! Do you realise what you’re asking of me?”

She stepped away from the well. “Dewan Sahib, did I force you to come here? No, I didn’t.” Little by little, she approached him. “You came here knowing full well what was expected of you in this ritual. You said you had complete faith. Then you must have patience, too.”

“You!” He sputtered; drops of saliva flying in all directions. “You sold me the gem… the Nagamani! You said it was the real thing.” He wiped his right sleeve across his mouth, pausing for breath. 

“It’s a family heirloom.” Renuka stopped at a safe distance. “I needed money for the temple funds, and you offered to buy it. That should have been the end of it, but you wanted more.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat, yet his face remained clouded. “Who wouldn’t? The Nagamani is a legendary gem. It can grant unimaginable riches and carries the secret to eternal youth.” He gulped. “You knew I would ask you to perform this ritual—”

“—and I warned you there would be a price to pay.” Her eyes widened a fraction. “Don’t deny it!”

He squatted back down, head hung over his chest, unable to counter her. 

Renuka scowled. Greed. He hasn’t changed in all these years. His greed makes him blind to everything else. He calls me Baai. Does he even recognise me after all this time?

A chilling breeze made Haridas shiver again.

“Pathan,” she called a man sitting at a distance to her left. “Give Dewan Sahib some of your liquor.”

Pathan rose without a word. His right cheek carried a deep scar from the chin to the eyebrow, just missing the eye. His black beard and moustache did little to hide the disfigurement. A perpetual frown marked his forehead. 

Although dressed like the old man, he seemed immune to the cold. His jet black hair stood in sharp contrast against his cracked skin, making his true age a puzzle for all who met him. Only Renuka knew how the years had aged her adopted son.

A long staff in his left hand, and a clay bottle in his right, he sauntered over to the old man. 

Haridas waved his hand, dismissing the offered bottle.

“Take it!” Renuka urged. “We can’t have you freeze to death.”

As Haridas gulped down the warm liquid, Renuka glanced back at the well. Kamya’s late. Where could she be? 

“The girl,” Haridas said, as though reading her mind. “Why did you send her back to the house?” He sounded suspicious. 

Renuka closed the distance between them in a few more steps, and sat down facing him, on the opposite side of the square kiln. A dry twig in hand, she prodded the fire. “You asked me the same thing two hours ago, and I already told you. I sent Kamya to fetch the gem pouch you forgot in your bedroom.”

Haridas took another long swig from the bottle. His eyes seemed out of focus for an instant. “I want the girl.”

“Oye!” Pathan raised his hand. 

The old man cringed to avoid the strike, arms thrown over his head. 

Renuka dropped the twig into the fire. “Pathan, stop!”

“Lecherous old fool!” Pathan spat on the ground behind him. 

Renuka watched them both, biting down cuss words at the tip of her tongue. She hated Haridas with good reason. Seeing him tremble in fear from head to toe, she felt an immense satisfaction spread through her bosom. 

“Pathan is a little sensitive when it comes to my girls,” she explained, in an affected tone. “They all look up to him as an elder brother. Naturally, he thinks its his duty to protect them.”

The old man glared back at her. “How dare he try to hit me?”

Renuka nodded, and Pathan returned to his previous seat. She turned back to Haridas. “Tell me, does you son know about your… ‘hobbies’, shall we say?”

He averted his gaze. “None of your business!”

“Indeed!” Renuka chuckled. “It would be strange if he didn’t know. He’s the chief inspector of this town and the prime minister’s son.”

“Leave my son out of this!”

“Did it start three years ago when your wife passed away?”

“Insufferable wench!”

“I heard your servants talking about it. Prostitutes from big cities warming your bed once a week… is that not harming your reputation? Sorry to disappoint you, Dewan Sahib, but I don’t pimp out my girls.” 

Haridas threw his hands up and growled. “Just get this goddamn ritual over with!”

Renuka shook her head. Why am I arguing with him anyway?

Over the next hour, she threw various offerings into the fire like milk, honey, curd, butter, seeds, and incense while chanting sanskrit verses. Haridas’s head nodded over his chest as he drifted in and out of an intoxicated stupor. On Renuka’s orders, Pathan handed him a small, funnel-shaped, clay pipe. 

“It should keep you awake,” she said, her hands busy over the fire. “You’re used to smoking charas, aren’t you?”

Resigned to his fate, he raised the pipe to his lips. His eyes closed in satisfaction; smoke escaping from his nostrils. When he opened them again, a devilish smile played on his lips. 

He paused, lifted the pipe to eye level, and stared hard.

Renuka grinned. He’s recognised the pipe, hasn’t he?

“You!” Haridas exclaimed, eyes wide open and brow knit. “What have you done?”

She stared back, unperturbed. “What’s the matter?”

Haridas jumped to his feet again. “Don’t play games with me! Where did you get this pipe?”

“Where do you think I got it?”

He spoke through gritted teeth, brandishing the pipe at her face. “This is a royal heirloom. It belongs to Kunwar Sahib Ajay Jadeja, Raja Sahib’s cousin and the heir to this kingdom—”

“—who died six weeks ago. None can figure out what killed him.”

His mouth fell open. “You know what happened to him?”

She clicked her tongue. “Kunwar Sahib gave me this pipe as a gift when he came to see me a few months back.”

“You don’t say!”

“About thirty years ago, a woman disappeared from this kingdom. Kunwar Sahib asked me to find out if she was truly dead.”

Haridas’s lower lip quivered. “… thirty years?”

“He asked me to contact her spirit through divination.”

Haridas scoffed louder. As she watched, he threw his head back and howled with raucous laughter. 

Renuka raised an eyebrow. Does he think I’m joking?

“Is this,” he said, turning serious, “your way of confessing to his murder?”

Pathan’s footsteps called their attention. He was already making his way towards them both. 

“Wait!” Renuka raised a hand. 

Pathan stopped midway, glaring daggers at the old man. 

Renuka’s head throbbed this time. She clenched her fists tight, reigning in her mounting rage. Wait! It’s not time yet.

“Dewan Sahib,” she said, her tone deep and cold, “that is a very serious accusation.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Haridas grinned from ear to ear; nostrils flared, eyes alight in fury, and hands on his hips. “Thirty years, you say? I knew you looked familiar the first time I saw you in the temple grounds.” He clutched his head with both hands. “Renuka! Yes, I remember you… In fact, I’ve never forgotten you.” He walked a couple of steps back, stumbled and recovered his footing, still barring his teeth in a sinister grin. “Yes, Kunwar Sahib must’ve hoped you’d be dead by now. He never knew what really happened to you.”

Renuka exhaled, focusing on the fire again. “Has the charas messed up your brain? Sit down and let me finish the ritual.”

“You witch!” The old man cried; his grin turned into a venomous frown. He lunged at her, hands forward, fingers contracted like claws, aiming for her throat. 

Pathan was faster. He leapt in front of the old man, plunging his elbow into the ribs. Haridas fell backwards, clutching his abdomen; his face screwed up in pain. 

“Pathan,” Renuka scolded, “I told you to wait.”

“Baai, let’s just get rid of him now.” Pathan swung his leg. 

Haridas rolled away, avoiding the kick. Panting hard, he sat up. “Just you wait and see!” He exclaimed, wheezing. “You two won’t get away with all this… this ridiculous facade! Sham divination! Absurd rituals! Fake spirits and gods! Is this how you fooled and murdered Kunwar Sahib?” 

“Watch your mouth!” Renuka barked.

Haridas pushed himself off the ground, his feet skidding on loose rubble. “Did you sell the Nagamani to Kunwar Sahib, too? Fed him that crap about a family heirloom? He didn’t know he’d played right into your hands, did he?” He raised his fingers, making obscene gestures. “But I won’t fall for it! I know your game now, Renuka. I’ll make sure you’re kicked out of this kingdom for good. You won’t even get a trial this time.” 

“Grraaaaakkkkkkkkkkkkk!” 

A terrifying, unearthly scream shattered the silence. 

All three winced, covering their ears. 

When the sound stopped, Renuka glanced over her shoulder. Did that scream come from inside the well?

“W-What was… th-that?” Haridas stammered in fear. “A-Another one of your tricks?”

Footsteps echoed again. A dark figure rushed out from the trees behind Haridas. He swirled on the spot, stumbling a third time. A young girl dressed in a black skirt, bodice, and oxidised ornaments, hastened towards the fire. 

“Kamya!” Pathan warned. “Go back!” 

“Pathan? Baai?” Kamya asked, her face still obscured in the gloom. “Did you hear it too? That terrible cry!” She sounded relieved and horrified at the same time. “I thought I was going crazy. What was it?”

“Kamya!” Renuka jumped to her feet. “Get away from here, now!”

Too late! Haridas had run to the girl, grabbed her hair and steered her in front of him like a shield. Kamya shrieked, trying hard to pull away. 

Haridas tightened his grip.  “Renuka,” he said, sneering in glee. “I’ve got a deal for you. Leave this place in a week. I’ll keep mum.”

Meanwhile, Pathan had taken a few steps towards them and stopped again, spewing bitter curses at the old man.

Haridas continued, ignoring Pathan’s outburst. “Take this bastard with you! Take the Nagamani, too… and I’ll keep this girl. A fair exchange for my silence, don’t you think?”

She’d hoped to release all her fury at him once he’d recognised her. She’d expected him to be cowering at her feet, begging for mercy. Instead, he’d turned the tables on her, taking Kamya hostage. 

“Villain!” Renuka stamped her foot on the ground. “Let her go, this instant!”

 Haridas laughed again. “You don’t understand, do you? I can still get rid of you and keep the girl.”

“Dewan Sahib, I won’t let you destroy another innocent girl’s life like you did mine all those years ago.”

“Destroy your life? Ha! Thirty years ago, you stole from the temple. You confessed to your crime in front of Raja Sahib.”

“I was framed. You knew everything, and yet you forced me to confess and had me imprisoned.”

“So, you’re back here seeking revenge? I was right, wasn’t I? Just tell me how you killed Kunwar Sahib. I’m dying to know.”

“His death came from his karma. I’d nothing to do with it.”

“You never lied before, Renuka. Wasn’t that a tenet for you, being the servant of the mother goddess? I’m sure she’s disappointed in you.”

“Let the girl go! This is your last chance.”

Before he could respond, a swift air current knocked the metal kiln off it’s pegs. The fire spilled out on the gravel. All stepped back in fright. The flames blazed upwards for a single moment and then died out, leaving them all in complete darkness. 

Renuka narrowed her eyes at the sky. The moon had hidden behind a large dark cloud. She heard the other three breathing in anticipation. 

Pathan don’t you dare attack him! He still has Kamya.

The stalemate lasted less than a minute. The old man’s sudden cries filled the gloom. 

What’s happening? She saw nothing, yet she heard Haridas scream and struggle against a shower of blows. Where is he?

Something zipped past her in the opposite direction. The cloud shifted, and moonlight flooded the scene. Pathan ran towards her; Kamya following close behind him. Haridas’s muffled wails made Renuka glance back at the well. She gaped at the strange sight. 

A scaly limb dragged Haridas by the neck. 

Renuka blinked. A monster?

The old man’s fists hammered at the scales in vain; his eyes wide in terror. His lips stretched over his yellowing teeth while his veins stood out at his temples. A moment later, he disappeared over the edge. His last scream echoed off the inner stones. 

Fear paralyzed Renuka. Running to the well or peeking over the edge again was out of the question. Her feet remained rooted to the spot. 

Pathan and Kamya stopped on either side of her, both breathing hard. 

“Baai,” Kamya asked, in a frightened whisper, “did you see that? what was it?”

Pathan leaned on his staff and sighed as though he carried a tremendous burden on his shoulders. “It’s happened again… just like with Kunwar Sahib.”

Renuka’s eyes darted. “I need time to think.” 

The reign of silence resumed as though uninterrupted. Pathan was right in part. Although the location of the ritual in both cases had been different, both the prince and the prime minister had disappeared before she could complete it. 

But what was that monster?

As far as she could remember, the ritual summoned a god. 

Does it also summon a monster? 

A constricting dryness filled her throat. Gulping hard, she mumbled, “… the legend of Matapur?”

Kamya touched her shoulder. “What did you say?”

Renuka jolted back to reality, staring at Kamya in relief. This is no time to panic. I’ll figure it out later.

“Never mind. What about you? Did he hurt you?”

The girl shook her head. “I’m fine. He caught me off guard… or else he couldn’t have laid hands on me.”

“Did you find the pouch?”

Kamya bit her lip. “No, Baai.”

“Is that why you were late?”

“I searched the bedroom, but it wasn’t there.”

Renuka turned to Pathan after a brief pause. “Where’s the Nagamani?”

Pathan tapped the pouch at his waist. “I have it here.”

“Then let’s clear everything and get out of here.”

Pathan grunted. “This was not a part of our plans.”

Renuka stared up at him. “This was an accident.”

“Dewan Sahib… and Kunwar Sahib?” 

She snapped. “What are you suggesting?”

“Baai, accidents don’t happen twice.”

“I don’t care. Accident or not, it was their karma.”

Pathan slapped a palm to his forehead, unable to hide his frustration. “Karma claimed their lives? You know Inspector Sahib won’t see it that way.” 

“So what?”

“Don’t you care what happens to you… or to the rest of us?”

“Nothing will happen to you… or Kamya… or the others.”

“How do you know?”

Renuka smiled. “Because that’s my karma. Sooner or later, it’ll catch up to me, too… but I shall protect all of you until my last breath.”

The End

Retribution is a flash fiction horror with main characters from an upcoming historical fiction and murder mystery based in Colonial India, written by C Phillip.

About the Author

C Phillip is a Mumbai-based, self-published author of 5 books in 2 series, one light novel and short stories. She writes action-packed historical fiction and fantasy books with a generous helping of romance, suspense and strong female leads. Apart from writing books, C Phillip is engaged in active research on women’s empowerment in ancient India, which she uses as a basis for creating credible, diverse, dynamic and multifaceted characters within an Indian premise.

By C Phillip