“Once there was a time when I believed you all white devils,” explained the old sagomas. “Your people came and took all of the young men, and dragged them in chains to slave in your mines. Then came the years of sickness, entire generations of my people wiped out by the evil poxes you brought.”
The ancient man paced around the tiny marker at the base of the massive, dead Marula tree in the village center.
“Where once a village thrived is now just a destitute ruin, hopeless. Without our youth and their grandchildren, what future could there be?”
The sagomas peeled away the cloth turban covering his eyes with great care.
“Now I see that you aren’t devils at all, you are only the most evil of men. Men, who can be cursed, and made to pay for the injustice their sick culture has brought on this land.”
When the turban fell away, his single malevolent eye blazed forth, spearing each of the urbanized white corporate henchmen with baleful malice.
“You don’t believe in the Evil Eye. Your kind never has. So go back to your families, and take no care to guard against what comes for you now.”
200 words, inspired by this week’s Flash! Friday prompt (3-41).
ParkInkSpot 