"A young boy infects an entire town with rabies
And turns a group of men into a band of bloodthirsty zombies
Ravaging a peaceful countryside
I drink your blood
And I eat your skin"
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It all started with a bite. I remember this day, the way the summer air felt on my skin and how some crows set off cawing loudly when little Dean Carpenter's screams echoed through the village. The panicked little boy stormed through his family house's door, tightly holding onto his finger with tears streaming down his cheeks.
—Ma! The friendly fox bit me!!!— he cried, as his mother collapsed to her knees in front of the boy. She held her son's red finger in her hand, patting his head with the other as he slowly calmed down. A few bandages it took for the Carpenters to brush the incident off. There were no foxes in the woods near the village. Even if they were, the animals never went beyond the treeline, and Dean played just in the backyard. The imagination of a 8-years-old can go wild at times, Marion Carpenter explained to her black-out-drunk husband, already asleep on the couch. She was sure her kid was bit by a dog. Yes, must have been. They barely had the money for food, let alone affording a doctor!
In the morning Marion's hopes were burnt into dust. Young Dean wasn't even able to get up from bed on his own. Marion stayed by his bedside, squeezing his burning hot hand, praying to God to save her innocent boy's soul. As the sun began to set, the village's medicine woman crossed the Carpenters' threshold. I remember sitting on the front porch with my father, his cigar's smoke all over my line of sight, watching as the old woman knocked on their wooden doors. Father shook his head.
—All this hag can do is steal the poor family's money!— he murmured, exhaling another cloud of gray smoke.
As the healer put some herbs on Dean's forehead, the mother's cries and prayers grew louder and louder. His little face covered in sweat explained everything, he was in pain. The kid stretched his trembling arm towards Marion, sticking out the bandaged finger.
—It itches...— Dean whispered, tears filling his eyes.
Marion quickly untucked his finger, tossing the bandages behind her only to meet with a red and definitely not healing wound. The healer shook her head.
—There's nothing else I can do. Please, take these.— she claimed handing the mother a bag of herbs, exiting the house faster than she stepped in. She knew. From the very beginning.
The boy was getting sicker and sicker. The fever disappeared at least once a day, only to come back in the evening, sending the boy to bed once again and again. His mother relied on the herbs, stuffing them into her son's stomach. As weeks passed the poor child seemed to get weaker. His innocent blue eyes grew darker and darker. Not long after, the tormented by fever boy's pants and grunts turned into growling. The same day, once Marion stepped into his room with the same herb brew, Dean lashed out at her, making the cup fall from her hands as the woman fell on the ground. Her son was kneeling on the bed, his eyes all whites and his yellowish teeth flashing before her. Marion stormed out of the room, barricading the entrance with an old cupboard. She heard her son clawing and scratching at the door, howling like a starving dog. She curled up next to the door, praying loudly as she hid her terrified face in her hands.
Dean was possessed. That's what the folks said. Some elders blamed everything on the Carpenters, saying the demons must have been drawn in by Mr.Carpenter's alcohol addiction or simply by the fact that Dean wasn't even his child. A day later a priest was called. Everything went quicker than the noisy neighbours expected. As midnight came, father Clinton was already finished, holding the mothers hands trying to calm her down and explain he couldn't do a thing. The little one's exhausted body lied now motionless, strapped to the bed with leather belts. Foam was slowly drying up on his open mouth. Dean's face once again was frozen in an animalistic expression of exposing one's teeth. Some neighbours said the boy's corpse had burn marks from holy water. Some told he was heard speaking in the devil's tongue. The priest held at his forearm, desperately trying to hide the gash created by the „possessed" kid's teeth. Dean's coffin was double sealed, and his little grave compounded by an iron fence, „just in case" they said. Marion Carpenter was found hanging in the pantry a day after the funeral.
