The Houngan howled. Spirits sporting wounds
that laid them low raced toward us, a gallery of suffering turned to
hate and madness. Unmarred women, all Black, all in white, encircled
him, suffocating my flames.
Spells pouring from inexpert lips
slowed vengeful phantoms for precious seconds, but all knew I would
shortly fail. Beads of sweat joined rain in an attempt to render me
blind, subtle redirection from better-skilled opponent.
Ghosts
reached out, desperate parasites seeking to be housed in a living body,
even for a moment. A young boy won the race, touched me, cold. Magic
stuttered and was still.
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