The silence was so profound that every step we took echoed. This was why, despite being strangers, Adrianne and I stuck together as long as possible. We were part of the same dance troupe, and with the Soca monarch competition looming, we spent the majority of our time rehearsing. Nevertheless, my opinion of her didn’t change. I believed she was self-centered, and though she never voiced it, she thought I was ghetto. Still, when practice ended, we adopted the roles of each other’s bodyguard, at least until we reached Chuck’s shop at the crossroads.

Most nights, we walked in silence, as neither of us could exert the energy needed to maintain a friendly conversation. Instead, we gave the crickets and frogs the spotlight. Tonight was no different.

This road was always dark, with trees spreading their branches above. Since there were no houses in the area, the government deemed it unnecessary to install streetlights, so the only illumination was from the stars. Our parents had forbidden us from taking this route, but we were too tired after rehearsal to take the long way home.

Dressed in our practice outfits—skimpy jeans and crop tops, the unofficial uniform for soca dancers—we strolled along tending to new muscle aches and soreness. Changing was pointless and would have taken up too much energy. Plus, it was so late that there wasn’t a soul around to witness our sweat-drenched and musky state.

As I walked, the only thing I thought about was releasing my hair from the high puff so I could spend some time itching. To distract myself, I whipped out my phone from my back pocket, the light temporarily blinding me. It was 11:45 pm. By midnight I should be at my house. Add fifteen minutes to give my kinks attention and another to wash the filth off me. So, by 12:30 a.m., I should be fast asleep in the rotting wooden house I called home.

As I contemplated ways to streamline my nightly routine, I collided with a solid and robust barrier. It took me a while to realize that what I thought was an object was actually a person.

I was distracted by my phone, and a glance at Adrianne told me she was as well. But this man wasn’t. Why didn’t he walk around me? Surely, the light from my device illuminated my face.

My head tilted upward as I looked at the stranger, his stoic manner sending chills throughout my body. In an attempt to quell the vulnerable feeling under his blatant stare, I folded my arms, but then set them loose at my sides.

This man was dressed in a green and blue dasheki with a matching headdress. His locks spilled over his shoulders and onto his back, almost to his knees. He wore a necklace made of large obsidian beads, but the pungent, woody, and earthy aroma was the most striking feature about him. There was no doubt in my mind he had recently ingested the Rastafarians’ life source.

Something was unnerving about this stranger. An aura bizarre enough to rattle my inner Chrystel, as she screamed for me to run, but I couldn’t. My legs were too weak, frozen as I lowered my head, not willing to offend this man I believed dabbled in the dark ways of our ancestors.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he said with his acoustic Caribbean flair. His voice rumbled through the night, disrupting the creatures that were cheerfully harmonizing.

“Sorry sir.” I walked around him while still avoiding his eyes. The desire to put as much space as possible between us consumed me, but he showed no signs of ending this encounter. With one natural movement of his leg, he was once again blocking my path.

I stole a glance at Adrianne. She had not left my side, but she was silent, her fingers tightening around the straps of her backpack.

“Why you out here so late, child? And dressed like that?” His eyes roamed over my body.

If he was someone else, I would have ‘peppered’ him for looking at me with that salivated grin. However, though he was not from our tiny village, I could tell this man could make my life a living hell, so I tried to remain respectful.

“We really need to get going, sir. Our parents are waiting,” I lied. Well, maybe Adrianne’s were, but I knew my mother was drunk and fast asleep by now and my father was probably creating another one of my half-siblings.

I walked to the side of this man for the second time, and he allowed me to walk away. However, he didn’t let us leave without a warning. “You should be careful, girls. Strange things happen in the dark.”

Adrianne and I waited till he disappeared around the corner before we spoke.

“What was that?” she said, releasing an exaggerated breath as if it was her first in a long time.

“I don’t know, but that guy creeped me out.”

“Let’s hurry. I can see the light from the shop. It must still be open.”

Chuck’s was the first building at the edge of our settlement. After it was a short isolated area, but then the houses lined either side of the road. The shop often closed late, especially during the carnival season when the streets were filled with music and festivities. Tonight, it was quiet.

Maybe they already shut down and were cleaning up.

As soon as we stepped under the first lit streetlamp next to the shop, a line formed in the middle of my forehead. Adrianne looked at me with her eyebrows furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I answered. “See you tomorrow.”

What was I to say? I have a feeling that something isn’t right and that we should be worried about our lives. Nope. Instead, I waved to her as she followed a different path.

I walked past the two men gambling at the domino table at the entrance of the shop and shouted a heartfelt, “Goodnight.” The response was a drunken uproar and cheer, and I continued.

When I heard it — a growing siren before a blaring sound — an eerie sensation ran through me, making the hairs on my hand erect. I turned and locked eyes with the source. He was standing above the motionless gamblers at the shop. Although the offender’s face was painted in distorted colors, I still recognized him. Even without the giveaway obsidian beads around his neck, I knew this was the man we met a few minutes ago.

My legs froze, rooted to the spot as he raised his twisted wooden cane in the direction Adrianne had gone. There was a white mist dispersing through the area now. When it became green, the irritating noise came again. Then the man turned his attention towards me.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins, propelling me to turn and sprint away. Behind me, I could hear heavy footsteps pursuing. If I continued along that road, I would have been an easy target, so I veered to my right and disappeared into the thick bushes. The overhanging trees were excellent cover as I dashed down the hill toward loud soca music. It appeared the bar had been forsaken for another, more trending venue.

As I scurried downhill, my legs faltered twice, causing me to stumble, but I quickly recovered and continued my descent. Finally, I emerged from the dense bushes and weaved my way through the bustling crowd on the road.

The fete was a vibrant scene of laughter, music, and lively conversation, with the masqueraders covered from head to toe in used car oil. Some of them sucked on red coloring to give themselves a menacing appearance, while others dragged chains, buckets, and other old objects. One man even wore a pamper while his companion paraded in a long floral dress, pink heels, and a wig. Any other time of the year, this would be strange and downright ostracized, but from July to August, this was carnival.

Sweaty, beaten, and styled with twigs, I rushed towards the group. There, I desperately tried to warn them about the danger, but my words were muffled by the infectious soca beats and the lively movements of the unconcerned partygoers. Eventually, I sprinted down the road, joining another gathering crowd, but they dispersed as soon as I got there.

I could barely hear the siren over the screams, but there was no doubt about it: the man had stumbled upon the jab-jab party. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they tried to dab him in oil. The music came to an abrupt halt, and the group scattered.

Lower down the streets, I saw my pursuer glaring at me. That was when I joined my comrades, desperate to put as much distance between myself and him. We tore through the back entrance of the basketball court and ascended the steps. We were almost at the top, which led to a different road when he was at the base. This filled not only me but the group with terror, their screams growing louder as they scrambled upwards.

In a chaotic moment, a girl’s arm flailed and struck me in the chest. I staggered, losing my balance, and tumbled over the side of the stairs, landing on a concrete slab that served as a storage space for tents and equipment.

Pain rocked through my legs, and I clutched it while screaming for help. However, the first person who emerged was the one I dreaded to see.

“Why are you doing this?” I spoke with gritted teeth.

“This is an honor, dear girl. You were chosen by a high priest.”

“I don’t want this,” I squealed. A fiery sensation consumed my throat, leaving it dry and scratchy.

“That’s not for you to decide.” He raised his cane as I extended my hand and sat up in a jolt.

*          *          *

My breathing was so erratic that it took a few minutes to normalize. By that time, my nerves had settled, allowing me to observe and absorb the details of my surroundings. Across from me were three wooden planks nailed to the wall. It was where I kept my books. The closet was to my right, but it had no doors. Anyone visiting could see all my clothing, which wasn’t much.

The sheet clung to my skin now, soaked with sweat, while my discarded shorts and top lay crumpled in the corner of my room. My tremor faded, and I inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting scent of my familiar bedroom. As time passed, it would be as if the dream had never happened, erased from memory.