Black Magic

Nathan sat there in his bed, cursing the chicken pox virus. He looked at the condition of his skin and sighed. The urge to scratch at the pus-filled blisters on his arms was overwhelming, but he forced himself not to. Placing both his hands underneath himself, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The blisters appeared a week ago. If he had his way, the virus would have run its course by now. His friends had told him about the new drug that was supposed to speed up the effects, so that the entire episode would be over in a week. But his mother, who believed in all things natural, insisted that he left it run its course. Who knows what kind of side effects drugs might have had on him? And goodness knows how much they would cost? You will have to pay through your nose if you get ill in Singapore.

Bitterly, he looked at his blemished skin and got up to open his closet door. The door swung open to reveal a full length mirror, and Nathan saw an unfamiliar face covered with pockmarks. He closed the door with disgust. For a while, he glanced at the phone, wondering whether to invite his girlfriend over. She had wanted to catch chicken pox from him, just so that she would get it over and done against the idea. After a while, he decided that it was better that she stayed home. The house was to quiet for him. He slipped back into bed and pulled the sheets up, taking care not to break the blisters on his bare legs. The pills the doctor prescribed were beginning to take effect. He was about to go to sleep when he heard the chime of the doorbell. He laid still in bed, listening out for the sound of his mother's slippers shuffling to answer the door. No sound came. The hallway outside was quiet. The doorbell continued ringing. With another sigh, Nathan got our from bed and peered into his mother's room. She was lying on her bed, asleep. He would have to answer the door.

He went to the door and looked through the peephole. A man in blue uniform was standing outside. It must be the newspaper man, here to collect the monthly subscription. Nathan was about to open the door when he realized the sight he must have looked. Quickly, he glanced into the mirrored partition and arranged his hair, only to realized that nothing he could do would improve matters. Resigned to his fate, Nathan opened the door. The shock on the man's face was enough to tell Nathan how hideous he looked. Somehow, he irritated Nathan. 'Delivery for Mr. Nathan,' he uttered hastily, thrusting a basket of flowers in Nathan's face. As he did, he took extra care to stay away from Nathan. 'It's okay,' Nathan snapped exasperatedly. 'I'm past the infectious stage. Don't worry.'

Somehow, the man relaxed a little. Still, he took care to avoid touching Nathan when the basket changed hands. Stifling an angry growl, Nathan grabbed the basket and slammed the door in the man's face. He carried the basket to the table. Filled with roses, the basket was a pretty sight. An unsigned 'Get Better' card was propped at the basket rim. His girlfriend must have sent it to him. Nathan smiled, picked up the phone and dialed Rina's number. 'Hello Rina?' 'Nath! How are you today?' His girlfriend's voice gushed over the phone. 'Thanks for the flowers. You shouldn't have; the look expensive.' 'Huh?' 'The flowers. I just received them.' 'Hello, my dear, who sending you flowers that i don't know about?' A hard edge appeared in her voice. 'Oh! They are not from you,' Nathan kicked himself. He was going to hear about this for the next month or so. Every other female acquaintance of his was going to become a suspect in the great mystery of the flower sender.

'It's probably someone in my family,' he thought quickly on his feet, crossing his fingers at the lie. 'No one in your family would send you flowers, even if they knew you are dying,' she spoke his thoughts aloud. Rina was not stupid. 'Hey, take it easy. Okay?' He laughed nervously. 'I'll find out the sender and send them my chicken pox. 'You'd better do that before I get my hands on her.' 'You are being paranoid, you know?' He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it. For the next few minutes, Nathan winced as he listened to the high pitch tirade over the phone. it took him a while to calm her down, and by then, Nathan was already yawning. 'Rina darling, I really need to sleep,' he let off a huge yawn. 'Oh all right,' she muttered irritably. 'This is not over yet, but you'd better sleep.' 'Yes darling,' Nathan said with relief. 'Bye darling.'

Hanging up the phone, Nathan looked at the flowers for a while, wondering who had given them to him. The thought of a secret admirer amused him. It must be someone who knew him very well, well enough to know that he preferred artificial flowers to real ones. they would never wilt and were value for money. Then again, it could have been just a coincidence. He returned to his room, and slipped back to his bed. His eyelids were feeling heavy, and it did not take long before gentle snores filled the room. Nathan opened his eyes to direct sunlight. squinting, he checked the time; it was eight in the morning. Nathan groaned with pain as he tried to sit up, wondering why he had woke so early. His question was soon answered s his stomach started to churn violently. He needed to throw up. On instinct, he dashed out of bed, and sprinted out of his bedroom. He practically slid across the polished marble hallway to the toilet bowl, and made it just in time. He emptied his dinner into the bowl.

When done, he rinsed his mouth hurriedly, trying to wash the rancid taste away. As he did, he tried to recall what he ate for dinner, a cheese sandwich and a glass of water. how could he get indigestion from that? He thought of blisters lining his stomach walls, and shuddered. it must be the chicken pox virus. Sighing, he walked back to his room. Every step he made jarred his brain. The headache was getting more unbearable. when he finally reached his bed, he sat down only to feel his stomach churn once more. Once more, he dashed madly to the bathroom. Upon his return, he groaned miserably, wondering what he had done to deserve this. For a while, he starred at the phone, wanting to whine to Rina about everything, but decided against it. He sat down on his bed gently, praying that his stomach remained still, and was glad when his head finally touched the pillow. He was feeling feverish, but he was too weak to go to the kitchen for painkillers. Soon, he was fast asleep.

His fever built and the pounding of his head got worse, as the day progressed. By evening, he had thrown up over five times, much to the concern of his mother. She had called his father to ask for help, and was told to sponge Nathan down. If that did not work, she would have to take him to the doctor. His father was on his way home. Nathan's father came home to find his son seated in the leaving room, starring blankly at the television screen with a wet towel over his forehead. Nathan's eyes were glazed, and he did not seem to notice his father. His wife stood nearby, and he could see that she was worried sick about Nathan. 'Nathan?' His father asked. 'Are you alright?' His father left his briefcase by the door, and had come to sit across him. lifting the towel, he felt his forehead. Nathan continued starring blankly ahead of him. A frown appeared on his face. Quickly, he put the towel back and held his hand over it as he began to pray. His lips moved rapidly, as he chanted a mantra taught to him as a child. As he chanted, he could see more light appearing in Nathan's eyes. Soon, Nathan looked up at his father, and for the first time that evening, his father saw recognition in his son's eyes.

'How are you feeling?' He asked Nathan. Nathan did not answer and just moaned. His father turned to his mother. 'Was he this sick yesterday?' He asked her sternly. His mother shook her head. 'Did anything unusual happen yesterday?' 'The only thing that came for Nathan was those flowers on the table. Even Nathan don't know who sent them. I hardly think that the flowers made him sick,' his wife said, trying to stay calm. Nathan's father did not wait for her to finish, and was already tearing the basket apart. He did not seem to hear her and started to pull out each individual flower out of the green foam at the bottom of the basket. When all of the flowers were lying in a heap besides the basket, his eyes widened at something inside the basket. The green foam used for holding the flowers in place was cut in very precise manner into the rough shape of a human being.

He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand as he looked at the marks that had been made by the plastic flower stems. They all centered on its stomach and its head and had created almost two big holes at those two points. He picked the doll up and looked it up and down. He then turned it around to find two Chinese characters written on it and pinned to the back of it. He took out the pin carefully and took the piece of paper to the door. Slipping into his slippers, he walked over to his neighbor's house and rang the doorbell. His Chinese friend opened the door smiling and asked what was up. Nathan's father showed him the characters and asked what they meant. 'Oh!' he had replied rather surprised at the words. 'That's your son's name in dialect! Who did that?' 'It's a long story; maybe some other time.' Nathan's father was thankful that he trusted his gut instinct. He presumed that if this was causing his son so many problems that it worked when it had arrived at the house. So, if it was not there anymore, it would not cause anymore harm. So he did the only thing he could think of doing; he walked over to the rubbish chute, threw away the foam doll, then burnt the yellow piece of paper with his son's name on it.

I supposed you could say that we would never know if what it was that caused the fever and the headaches and the vomiting. Nathan's father believes that it did. It may have been coincidence that Nathan's started recovering almost straight away and that his temperature was back to normal within the next three hours. His father asked him when he was well, whether he had any idea who sent the flowers. He said that he did not and his father went to tell him what he had done. Nathan was of course shocked. He had no idea who would have wanted to do that to him; but at least he could tell Rina those flowers did not come from an admirer. Nathan's father did not want to alarm his son by revealing who the sender of the flowers was. the flowers were not for Nathan, but was for him. but Nathan had touched the flowers first, and since their names were similar, the curse went to him.