The Curse of the Toyol

Chapter 2

"Demons are like obedient dogs; they come when they are called." ― Remy de Gourmont

The house was dusty, and there was still a scent of death inside it, even though the corpse has been taken away two days ago. Kamal was a vigorous man, with such an imposing stature that he would often scare the people he met, but when strangers gave him the chance to speak, they would discover the kindest man of them all, a pure and bright soul. He was never rich, but the reason behind his poverty was not a lack of energy to work but the strong desire to help others. He built the village school and a few houses for the one who couldn't afford to buy one and casually gave people food and clothes. He was the only one helping Meon without complaining of his nature because he learned how to understand everyone and respect their desires, troubles and feelings. He understood the imperfect character of humans, and he accepted the flaws and mistakes, because they are also parts of his people, alongside their qualities.

Kamal was Meon's grandfather. He died at the age of 98 years old, but he looked so much younger as if the last 30 years of his life decided to leave no marks on his physical appearance. His belongings were not copious and not so helpful, but Meon hoped he would find a few things to sell at the local market to get some cash for his gambling. It was an immense effort for him to walk to the house. It was almost twenty minutes away from his, and there was no transportation available for free. Even going through the old things was a struggle for him.

"The house is almost empty," he said to himself. "That is what you get when you are a good person: nothing or nearly nothing."

He found a few old photos of his grandparents and even a few of himself. He admired the beauty of his eyes in a fancy mirror that felt like a fortune.

"This probably costs a few hundreds," he said smiling. "Plus, I have to sell the furniture, too. Maybe I will give a small part of the money to Laila."

But the happiness soon stopped when he discovered a suitcase under the bed. It looked like his grandfather tried to hide it and even secured it with a locker.

"What in the world is this thing?"

He started playing with the lock, trying to figure out a way of opening it. Despite his appearance, Meon was not a stupid man but a very creative and intelligent human, brighter than most people around him. Meon opened the suitcase, but its content left him speechless, in such a state of amazement and disgust that he could not get over the overwhelming feelings and the rapid trembling of the hand that gradually progressed to the whole body.

In the suitcase, there was the body of a deceased baby, a dry but not yet decomposed corpse. He tried to smell it, but there was no strong scent coming from the suitcase, almost as the body lying inside it was alive but sleeping. Curiosity soon replaced Meon's shock, and he began turning the monster on all sides until he found the face. The small eyes were closed, and there were clear traces of lips over the exposed parts of the skull. The most disturbing feature was, however, a crease on the baby's forehead, so similar to Meon's birth sign, one that foreshadowed the linear destiny of a poor and lazy man.

Who was this helpless child, and why was he there? Will he have to call the police to investigate? That would involve so much walking and fatigue. No, he had to get rid of the corpse before anyone else could find it and imagine anything about his grandfather, whose memory should remain intact: the kindest human on earth, as even their Holy Man would say.

As Meon was fighting against the errors in his plan of hiding the body from the curious and hateful eyes of people, an unexpected move startled him. It was just like a finger touch on the hand, but it felt so real as if the dead infant was trying to raise awareness about its presence. The doubts disappeared immediately when the baby's eyelids left uncovered two small, red eyes. They were, despite their size, painfully expressive and analytic, trying to discover the intention of the man holding it. A wave of fear ran through Meon's veins, and without discerning, he threw the baby away, back in the suitcase.

"Oh my God!" he yelled. "What is this, some stupid joke? Or is this the devil itself?"

But the scene was far from his imagination because the child turned around, looked at him straight in the eyes and open the mouth to speak. While he was articulating a few words, the flash on his cheeks fell to the side, revealing a monstrous image.

"Thank you, Master! Thank you for releasing me from the cold claws of death, a place in which I shall never return. I am now ready to obey your wishes, but there are, of course, conditions. I must eat to make your dreams come to life. You must give me food!"

"Are you... a Toyol?"

"Yes, I am! And I have been in your family for over a hundred years! Your grandfather just decided I was not useful and put me to sleep again!"

A Toyol! Meon couldn't believe his eyes! The creature looked just like his grandmother used to describe it. A grey coat of skin covered his fragile bones, while the partially decomposed look revealed the sharp teeth, like knives ready to rip you into pieces. He spoke with such maturity, but Meon was aware of his childish behaviour, which soon revealed itself.

Toyol is an ancient creature, which glorified the fulfilment of human purpose to become wealthy. The understanding between a man and a Toyol is a seemingly advantageous one, but it degrades over time, and often the demonic child becomes a true disciple of the forces of evil. The man had to constantly feed it and provide it with all the living conditions. It remains in the family for centuries. The only way you could get rid of it is by throwing it into the sea or burying it. Often, however, people did not manage to fool the Toyol, who noticed their desire to get rid of it long before they would take action.

All these things were well known to Meon, but the desire to get rich dominated any reason. He wanted the Toyol.

"Therefore, do you think you can give me some milk? Give me milk!" the Toyol wept while big tears were forming in the corner of its eyes.

Meon nodded in agreement, ready to give this disturbing-looking creature his soul if that guaranteed him the riches he wanted.

"For sure, come on, get back in the suitcase, little treasure! No one can see you, but in my house, you will be able to move freely. You will receive candy and milk as you wish, but you'll have to run some errands for me, starting later today!"

The Toyol lowered its chin and gave out the biggest smile he could produce. The sharp teeth were showing in their horrific glory, while his eyes, buried in the back of his head, where the warrant of a devilish deal. He knew Meon was the one!