Witchcraft

Vikram rung the bell, and waited. He smiled when his colleague opened the door, and entered. It was time for a good game of Mahjong. Although he had never played with this group before, he had heard that people simply came to play Mahjong at Ong's house to lose. Ong was unbeatable. Ong smiled at him as he came in and shook hands with him. Vikram was taken aback by the magnitude of the house and how rich everything seemed to look; the lush velvet curtains, the elaborate carpets and the miniature chandelier which hung in the middle of the living room as if Ong thought that his house was a small castle.

Vikram was led to the living room where two other people waited for him. The tiles were already lying face down on the table randomly, waiting for gambling fingers to pick them up. He sat down in the empty seat and the game started. Ong had won five games in a row and a modest amount of money. Vikram sat there with his mouth wide open and had his shocked expression laughed at by the other two men. Ong simply sat there and smiled to himself. Vikram supposed that if he was so good at something he would be sitting there and smiling as well. 'I thought everyone was exaggerating about you. What's your secret, man?' If I tell you, I don't have a secret anymore, right?' he replied. Vikram nodded and looked back at Ong who was looking at him intently. He only broke off the stare to glance at the other two men. 'Should I tell him?' He asked them. 'Tell me what?' Vikram inquired. 'Tell you my secret.'

 Vikram looked at the other men who smiled mysteriously back at him. One of them, Francis, opened his mouth to speak. 'You see, we always come here and we know we are going to lose. But it's small money. He plays with big money with people who can afford it. But we come here anyway to try and win. It's like a goal. Once you know his secret, you will know what I mean. It's a challenge.' 'What is your friend's secret?' Ong nodded at the other two comrades and stood up, gesturing for vikram to follow him. Vikram stood up and followed Ong upstairs to what seemed to be his bedroom. On the way up, Ong told him something he had bought in Taiwan; something he had paid thirty five thousand dollars for and something that had helped him win ever since. Vikram cringed at first at the mention of thirty five thousand but after a while, remembered Ong's living room and that he could afford it. They stopped outside a closed door and Ong held the doorknob, looking at him cryptically. 'Ready?' 'I suppose.'

Ong opened the door and Vikram froze in his place. He stared in horror and what he first thought to be a small child moving around the room. He looked at it carefully for awhile and then realized that it was a doll. He took a deep breath and stared, as all his hair stood erect. The doll, in what looked like a geisha outfit, measured about a meter in height. It was made of cloth like most dolls and because of that, he knew it was not a mechanical toy. It was made of cloth and was walking around the room by itself. It had hair in a bun, wore deep red and had a dollar note pinned onto its chest. 'She helps me. 'She may have cost a lot but she has paid me back tenfold.' Ong stared at Vikram's frightened expression and laughed a little. He patted Vikram's back and told him to wait there as he went off and got something. 'Will it...' He stammered. 'No, it won't try and leave the room. Just stay here.' Vikram waited, not wanting to take his eyes off the doll at all. He watched in horror as the doll made what seemed like a routine journey around the room.

Vikram must have dozed off. He did not even know when Ong returned. Vikram got up, shocked. Ong was carrying a plate. On it he saw three slabs of meat. The raw meal stank of blood and he stared on in morbid wonder, realizing that what was actually on the plate was three livers, covered with blood. 'What the...?' Vikram sputtered in outrage. 'She has no batteries, you know. She's alive.' Ong bent down and waited for the doll to come to him. It stopped and he patted her head; the scene was almost perverse. He lay the plate down on the floor and as Vikram stared on, the doll picked up a liver in its nylon stitched hand and bit into it. Vikram felt his pressure rise and his knees go weak. He swallowed the bitter taste at the back of his throat that threatened not to go back and he gripped on to the door frame for support. It took him a while to find his voice. 'Ong,' he said meekly, waiting for him to look at him. 'Ong do you really need this to win?'

Ong gave a condescending smirk and shook his head disapprovingly as if he was looking at a young child stealing a cookie. 'Vikram, Vikram. This is why you will always stay in the middle class.' His voice was smug. He gestured to the doll that Vikram refused to look at. 'And this is why I am rich.' On his way back, having lost more than he had intended, Vikram felt a slight pain in his abdomen. Little did he realize that the doll had feasted on some of his body parts.