1.

The town festival

​

Nelia

 

‘‘Look who’s finally here!’’ Masala said.

I followed my best friend’s gaze and saw a tall, well-built dark-skinned young man heading towards us.

Kalé Dagary.

The most handsome and the most attractive guy in town. Yes, in this whole town and I meant it!

I had a huge crush on him. He was the best thing that could ever happen to me in my first year of high school. The first time I saw him, seven months ago, I felt an inexplicable connection with him, as if I was being reunited with a lost loved one. I knew right there and then I wanted him in my life. And my love grew into an obsession: I needed my daily dose of Kalé.

Yes, he had a bad reputation. So what? I was no saint either.

In my town, however, having a bad reputation had nothing to do with the crimes, no matter how big or small, that a person had committed. But rather the occult forces of one’s family.

Kalé’s father was a Myste, a natural born sorcerer, passed on from father to son. By his birthright, Kalé was to be his father’s designated successor. His initiation began at age fifteen and was to end at nineteen, which was the age he had to show a complete mastery of his supernatural faculties before being granted some of his paternal powers. His succession would then be confirmed, and he would finally join the prestigious Grand-Myste Cult, an elite club of sorcerers with immeasurable powers.

The magical arts were an integral part of Avent’s culture. Despite the fear of witchcraft, it was nevertheless an essential part of everyday life. It may seem contradictory, but many families attributed divine power to this secret society, while few opposed it. And my family was one of the few ones.

I was the only daughter of my father and my mother who died when I was born. Before I took my first steps, my father had already found the one who would replace my mother. However, after six years of being married to him and having two sons for him, my stepmother succumbed to a devastating illness, of which no doctor could comprehend.

This did not prevent my father from replacing her immediately after the mourning. My second stepmother was married to him for eight years and had three sons for him before ending her own life, for no apparent reason, according to him. At forty-eight, he couldn’t live without a wife. So, I had a third stepmother who, in her first year of marriage, couldn’t get pregnant. To be honest, I didn’t mind. I was the head of a small army of rebellious boys whose only ambition was to take the lead!

I watched as Kalé approached, my attention never leaving his face. He was charismatic and droolworthy. Just the perfect guy for me. My love for him was overwhelming. I was ready to marry him, if only he knew I existed!

But he barely looked at me. He seemed to be ignoring me completely. He stopped directly in front of my greatest rival: Belga Falle. How embarrassing! I just couldn’t stand this girl! And I didn’t understand what he could possibly see in her. They had absolutely nothing in common.

Do opposites really attract? Well, I guess I could no longer deny it!

Belga was such a queen bee. Her father was the mayor of Avent two years ago, so she always got the red carpet rolling out to her. She was seventeen, tall, had a fair complexion and the typical Brazilian curves. Heads turned for her, and she knew exactly how to get everything her way. And to top it all off, she had an extreme ego.

Her mother had learned it the hard way. She had suddenly lost her mind four years earlier and was held captive in her home. I heard that she had succumbed to madness after having discovered the incestuous relationship between her husband and her only daughter.

Belga was a mysterious girl. Rumors about her were going around town. People were saying that she was born to Lamia, a monster, half-woman and half-snake, who seduced men to feed on their blood until their death. There were also talks that she was a Succubus, a female demon who drained her father’s soul at night to preserve her youth and beauty. And not to mention...

‘‘Stop drooling over him, Nelia!’’ Masala said, standing in front of me and forcing me to look away. ‘‘It’s embarrassing.’’

‘‘Not for me. I’m trying to get his attention. Now, can you please step aside? I’d like to introduce myself to my future husband.”

‘‘Girl, you’re out of your mind!’’ She shook her head. ‘‘Don’t tell me you didn’t notice queen bee?’’

‘‘So? They don’t belong together, and you know it.’’

‘‘Oh no, don’t drag me into your drama! Let’s go dance!’’ She took me by the arm and steered me away. ‘‘It’s my favorite song.’’

‘‘Okay, but I need a drink first. You go ahead, and I’ll meet you there.’’

She barely heard me, as my words were easily carried away by the folk rhythm of the wind. I turned away and went straight to the bar. I didn’t feel like dancing anyway; I was rather annoyed by her attitude.

Masala Bizoto and I had been friends since primary school. We were inseparable and identical in every way: same height, slender curves and dark skin, and we wore long box braids down our backs. Well, we were almost like twins, except that we didn’t wear the same outfits and definitely didn’t think the same way. Masala had a classic style: navy pleated skirt, long sleeve polka dot shirt and black patent ballerinas. As for me, the casual look suited me better: black slim jeans, gray print sweatshirt and sneakers.

Masala had lost her parents in a car accident five years ago. She lived with her grandparents, her two older brothers and her younger sister. Her family had always been influenced by superstitions. Unfortunately, Masala wasn’t immune to her cultural heritage. Like her grandparents, she was convinced that the dead ruled the world from the grave. Therefore, Masala would not leave her house until she had appeased the troubled spirits of her deceased parents.

As much as I loved her, I couldn’t stand this kind of nonsense!

I lived in Avent, the town with the largest Afro-Caribbean community, located in south Earthland. And it was time again for the town festival, held on the last Saturday in May. Everybody came out to celebrate. Masala and I were having a great time.

I loved these festive events because I could party hard without facing any consequences. My family went away for the weekend, so I didn’t have to worry about my dad watching my every move.

It was 10:30 pm and the music was pumping. Shouts and laughter of the crowd mingled with the intoxicating music, creating a magical atmosphere.

I pulled myself onto a barstool, hoping to get something more stimulating than the soft drinks that I had taken until then. I knew that alcohol was forbidden, but I had a way of getting it as far as legally possible. I was no saint after all, and spending the night watching queen bee make out with the man of my life was unbearable! So, I had to drown my frustrations, and alcohol was just what I needed.

When a young bartender came over to me, I was not surprised to see Dali Mephisto. My smile widened when I met his gaze. And he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

This was perfect for my next move!

I’d known Dali since middle school, and I was aware that he was attracted to me. However, he wasn’t my type: he was light skin, quite a bit shorter than me and wore glasses. Despite his intelligence and his kindness, my heart remained insensible.

‘‘Hey, Dali, what can you get me? I feel a bit exhausted, and I don’t want to go home now. It would be a shame because I don’t think I had a dance with you,’’ I said with a flirtatious tone.

‘‘Really? Well, I have exactly what you need,’’ he replied with undisguised enthusiasm.

He disappeared into a dark room behind the bar, then he reappeared a few minutes later with a metal cocktail mixer that he placed on the counter. He took a glass filled with ice cubes into which he poured a yellowish liquid and handed it to me.

‘‘It’s a tonic, it will give you back your energy. I’m off now, so I’ll be with you shortly.’’

‘‘Okay!’’ I replied without enthusiasm.

I readily drank the tonic in one gulp. Despite the foul taste, I felt the need for another drink. Since Dali wasn’t around, I could only have one single glass. Then twenty minutes later, Dali finally showed up again and asked me to dance. Unfortunately for him, I started feeling the effects of alcohol taking over my mind and body. And soon I was not myself anymore.

However, I tried moving in time with the rhythm of the music, letting my partner take liberties I would have never allowed in my normal state. As the alcohol spread throughout my body, I felt my muscles gradually relaxing. I felt so light and my legs couldn’t hold me any longer. Dali wrapped his arm around my waist to steady me and led me off the dance floor. Then I started to laugh uncontrollably until he steered me away from the crowd.

‘‘You don’t look well,’’ he said as he held me firmly. ‘‘I think it’s time to go home.’’

‘‘The party’s not over yet… and…’’ I stammered, disoriented.         

The night spread its dark veil over the sky, almost covering the dim light of a few street lanterns. Dali knew my house, which was a ten-minute walk from where we were. Despite the cool night, large drops of sweat broke out on my forehead, running down my body and soaking my sweater.

The alcohol had taken over my body. My legs felt as heavy as lead. My speech was slurred, and my vision blurred. But above all, I had the urgent need for sleep. I just wanted to collapse on my bed and sleep forever. It wasn't the first time I drank. My body was probably trying to warn me. So, I promised myself that I would never take another drop of liquor.

Dali stopped for a moment in front of a house that I could not recognize in my drunken state, and he was saying things I couldn’t understand. Then he reached into his pocket to retrieve a bunch of keys. He put one of them in the lock and turned the knob. The door eased slowly open, and we stepped into a hallway that had a dim ceiling light on. He scanned the area and led me to a big, dark room. Then he settled me onto what seemed to be a bed. It didn’t take long before I finally drifted off to sleep.