Short Story: The Encounter
TITLE: The Encounter
WRITTEN BY: Kisha Wilson Young
DATE: November 2019 (Short Story Competition Entry)
Anthony didn't take risks. He was content. He lived on the island of Trinidad and never traveled
anywhere, not even to the sister island of Tobago. He believed that he had everything he
needed so traveling was an unnecessary luxury. He loved his job, despite being in the same
position, doing the same thing for the past fifteen years. He loved his neighborhood and lived
alone in the same house, where he had grown up. The only thing different was his neighbors
whom he didn't know, as he mostly kept to himself. His day consisted of going to work and
going home, with the only exception on Wednesdays when he would venture out to see his
grandmother who lived close by.
He loved his grandmother. He often reminisced about when he used to visit her as a child. He
would always look forward to a delicious home-cooked meal of curried chicken and rice or
macaroni pie, callaloo and stewed chicken. After eating until he felt he could burst, he would sit
on the porch with his grandmother as she told him stories about her childhood which often
included wild, often unimaginable stories steeped in Trinidad folklore. These stories often
terrified him, but they were strangely mesmerizing as well, so he couldn't help but listen. After
all, it was a part of his culture and he eventually learned about the different characters in
school as well.
That Wednesday, his grandmother had been particularly chatty and he didn’t have the heart to
leave her at his usual departure time – just before sunset. But he immediately regretted his
decision as the street lights and houses suddenly went dark, signaling another power outage.
Despite only living one block away, which would take him less than twenty minutes walking, his
heart thudded against his chest, as he was deathly afraid of the dark.
He could barely see the outline of his house at the top of the hill, as his eyes adjusted to the
darkness, but he walked purposefully knowing he would soon be safely at home. He
instinctively looked around to ensure no one was following him or lurking in the darkness but
the road was clear and eerily silent except for the rustle of leaves as a cool breeze blew through
the neighborhood. He breathed easier, not feeling completely secure but a little less fear, as he
continued his journey. But any semblance of safety was short-lived as he heard a noise behind
him.
He couldn't decide if he should look behind him to eliminate the dark imaginings his mind was
conjuring, or just walk faster. He chose the latter and prayed, until one of the neighborhood
strays trotted past him. His fear of being chased by a dog that would have kicked in at that
moment, under different circumstances, was replaced by sheer relief. It even made him stop,
without a second thought, as he caught his breath and laughed in his mind at his cowardly
behavior. The only positive to being alone at that moment, he thought, was that there was no
one to witness it and ridicule him.
This was a perfect example of his baseless fears. He needed to learn to relax and just go with
the flow. He could do this. He was braver than he believed. The self-motivating, pep talk
seemed to work and his newly-found courage was reflected in his posture – upright with an air
of confidence. If he knew how, he would have whistled the rest of the way home. Funny, how
the mind worked.
But the silence was suddenly interrupted by a noise Anthony hoped was another dog. However,
the noise didn’t sound like the padding of paws on asphalt but more like the clop of a horse’s
hoof, only staggered – clop, shuffle, clop – an out of place, foreign sound. Dog or otherwise,
Anthony’s brisk walk turned into a jog and then to a full sprint as the strange noise kept pace
even as he increased his speed.
He was too scared to feel any sense of relief as he ran up the driveway to his home. Only when
he finally got to his front door and turned the key, he found the courage to look down the
driveway. In the darkness, he could barely make out the outline of what appeared to be a
woman wearing what looked like a huge beach hat. Her long dress flowed behind her as she
hobbled along the roadside with an unusual gait that included the distinct sound of a hoof on
asphalt that echoed in the night.
She turned to look in his direction and that was all that was needed for him to rush into his
house, lock the front door and go straight to his room. Still shaking, he sat on his bed with every
hair on his body standing at attention, despite being drenched with sweat. He willed himself to
breathe evenly again, but he couldn’t as he contemplated what he had just seen. Over and over
in his mind, he could still remember the distinct characteristics of the well-known creature from
Trinidad folklore he had heard about a million times in his childhood - a shapely woman clothed
in a long white dress with her face covered by a wide-brimmed hat. Her hat hid her demonic
features while her dress covered her legs – one human leg, and the other ending with the hoof
of a cow. Her mystique was known to beguile men who inevitably followed her to the heart of
the forest, where she would disappear before their eyes, after which they would, inevitably,
lose their way, never to be found again. For once, his fear had saved him, because there was no
doubt in his mind that he had just survived an encounter with a La Diablesse.