Frederik strolled into a small village in what is now known as western Rajasthan. The village’s inhabitants looked at him suspiciously but averted their eyes when he looked back. I wonder if they’ve ever seen a European before, Frederik thought to himself.
A tall woman sat by a well, filling a small jar of water. She too averted Frederik’s gaze, but he approached her nonetheless. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Vasanti,” he said in Rajasthani to the woman. “I was told she lives here.”
Despite his choppy speech and thick English accent, the woman turned around and replied. “She lives by the cemetery, the only unlit house,” the woman spoke in a hush. “I would avoid that place if I were you.” Before Frederik could ask any more questions, she hastened away, her jar sloshing about but not spilling a drop. Seems like I’ve found the right place.
Frederik had no issue finding the cemetery; the tops of the headstones peeked over the short clay walls. Across from the cemetery entrance stood a halfway abandoned house, and despite the quickly approaching nightfall, no light came from the windows. The sounds of a dull wailing emanated from inside. Frederik approached the house and rapped on the thin wooden door.
A short woman with long, frazzled hair opened the door just enough to reveal her face. She wore a plain dress that looked somewhat dirty. Heavy bags lay under her eyes, which widened at the sight of Frederik.
“Hi, I’m looking for Vasanti. I came about her husband.” Frederik had practiced that line, making it sound less choppy than before. His acceptable Rajasthani did nothing to calm the woman’s nerves.
“My husband is not well. I need you to leave.” Vasanti tried to close the door, but Frederik stopped it with his foot. Vasanti trembled for a moment, but visibly tried to regain her composure. The wailing sounds grew louder.
“Just tell me about your husband. I know I’m a stranger on your porch, but I’m here to help.” Frederik realized that the skin under her eyes was red from crying.
“Please, just leave…” she pleaded, but Frederik didn’t budge. The woman looked at the floor for a moment. She swallowed to herself and sighed. “He changed about six months ago.” Her voice didn’t waver, but as she spoke fresh tears poured from her eyes. “We’ve been married for thirteen years, but I woke up to a different man one day. He doesn’t remember me, he gets violent, recently he stopped speaking and just started moaning. Sometimes he does nothing for hours, sometimes he breaks things, and sometimes I find him just standing in the cemetery. I don’t know what to do.”
Frederik turned around and looked at the cemetery, pausing over each grave. The sun had just started setting, but already shadows had enveloped the enclosure. In the farthest corner, Frederik thought he saw what looked like two red eyes staring at him, but as he squinted, they disappeared. Maybe the old Shaman was right. I hope that blessing of his is good too. He turned back to Vasanti. “Thank you. You won’t hear from me again.” With that, he removed his boot from the doorway, and Vasanti slipped inside. Frederik heard the moaning quiet as he walked away.
Frederik passed through the cemetery gates and walked around the inside of the walls as the sun was setting. The packed sand crunched under his feet with each step. Every few minutes, a jagged, glowing red line would appear behind one of the graves, but as soon Frederik looked at it, it would disappear. It’s waiting until the sun goes down.
As the sun slipped fully under the horizon, Frederik pulled a torch from his bag and lit it. He gave a quick glance to Vasanti’s house, but as soon as he looked away he heard the sand crunch behind him. Frederik whipped around; floating near the farthest gravestone was what looked like crooked red glowing vines. They glowed with the same red light that Frederik saw before, but more violently. In a split second they were gone once more. It’s toying with me
Frederik began to walk around again, but with every third step he heard the sand crunch under another foot as well. The sound came from behind him, and each time he heard the crunch it sounded closer than before. Frederik walked in a straight line and kept his head pointed straight forward. The hairs stood up on his neck as Frederic heard a footstep no more than an arm’s length behind him.
Frederik spun around and thrust his torch forward, only to make eye contact with an innocent-looking deer. It stepped back once and froze in the torch light, staring at Frederik with shocked black eyes.
Frederik took a breath and gathered his thoughts. He stretched his neck and shoulders. “I’ve never known a deer to stalk a torch in the night,” he said to the doe. Frederik flicked the tail of his coat away, revealing a sheathed sword. He grasped the handle and pulled it out slowly, whispering the Shaman’s mantra as he pulled.
Before the blade was halfway revealed, the skin of the deer had begun to split and fall apart. Where before the doe’s head had been, now a great black face with two glowing red eyes stared straight at Frederik. The deer skin evaporated, revealing the rest of the creature’s hunched over body. Covering its pitch-black skin were the red lines from before: long, glowing red veins. The creature stood to its full height, at least two heads taller than Frederik. A gruesome smile revealed bleach-white fangs. The creature hissed in a language no mortal man could understand. As it ceased its demonic speech, the creature flew forward, its claws aimed straight at Frederik’s throat.
In the last possible moment, Frederik yelled the end of his mantra, and his blade began to glow in the night. He slashed the creature’s stomach. Where the blade struck, the skin began smoking, and a terrible shriek filled the night. The monster stumbled backwards, and its glowing veins caught flame. It fell to the ground and became silent, smoldering until only a large pile of ash remained.
In the morning, Frederik was gone, but Vasanti and her husband walked amongst the townspeople for the first time in months.
Author’s Note – This story is not based on a particular source story but revolves around a creature known as the pishacha. Pishachas are demons from ancient Hindu mythology. Pishachas are closely related to rakshasas but are not a branch of rakshasas. The name pishacha may come from an ancient tribe of people, but the mythological pishachas are not humans or human corpses. They are described as having black skin and bulging red veins and red eyes. Most descriptions also include huge fangs. That being said, pishachas can also shapeshift into almost anything and become entirely invisible, so descriptions are apt to change. Pishachas are particularly evil beings and live to torture (and eat) humans. They are capable of possessing humans, and furthermore of driving their victims insane. Most commonly pishachas are described as eating the flesh of people, but some sources describe them as eating life force itself. Pishachas choose to live in cremation grounds (unfortunately, I thought that cremation grounds were the same as cemeteries until after the bulk of the story was written.) Pisachas can be driven from their selected home with certain rituals, and similar rituals can be used to drive a pishacha out of a possessed victim or to alleviate the insanity. The only known way to kill a pishacha is with a blessed sword. I tried to incorporate as many elements of these legends as I could into my story, although some failed to make their way in.
Image Information
Graveyard at Night - original found at Wikimedia, edits by me