Scott Street Soucouyant

“A soucouyant do that.”

Anand Persad was standing at the front of the class with most of his fellow students surrounding him. There was a purple bruise on his right arm and for the life of him, he didn’t know where it came from. It didn’t hurt, even after all the pokes it got from his friends.

“I telling you,” his friend Kareem said. “I telling all of you. A soucouyant do that.”

“Soucouyants aren’t real,” a commanding voice said, causing the crowd to disperse. “Also, you are to speak in Standard English in my class. No Trinidadian Creole. Please.”

Everyone rushed to their desks and sat down.

“Sorry Mr. Lewis, but-” Kareem started, making sure he was about to speak in the correct tongue. “They are real. How else do you explain the bruise on Andy’s arm?”

Andy rolled up his sleeve and rubbed the spot.

“A soucouyant is as real as Santa Clause,” Mr. Lewis said.

“Santa Clause not real?” an anonymous voice asked in sad, drawn out Trinidadian Creole, causing the whole class to burst out in laughter.

“Alright,” Mr. Lewis began. “Settle down.”

The teacher made his way to the front of the class. He put his bag on his desk and then he began to erase the whiteboard. There was a reverend silence.

“You all are in Standard Five now,” he spoke, with his back turned. “That makes you what? Eleven? Twelve?”

Silence.

“Believe what you read in these books,” he said, turning around and picking up his textbooks. “It’s time to grow up and stop believing in these old folk tales.”

Mr. Lewis sat down. Kareem bowed his head. Nobody spoke.

“Andy, my little underachiever,” Mr. Lewis said. “What do you believe? How did you get that mark?”

Andy, who sat in the third row, nearly spoke, but he held back. His gaze darted around the room, before he finally answered.

“I don’t know, Sir,” he mumbled. “I think it might’ve happened when I was playing cricket the other day or something.”

That wasn’t just a guess, it was a lie, because he truly believed that he knew what caused the mark on his arm, who caused it. The old lady at the end of his street was to blame. She was to blame, because she was a soucouyant.

“Hmmm,” Mr. Lewis said. “Well, enough of this nonsense then. SEA Exams are only three months away, so take out your Mathematics textbooks and let us review perimeter, area and volume.”

-

The old woman at the end of Scott Street lived in an old wooden house that was falling apart. In the neighborhood, her house was away from all the others, but it still stuck out like a cat in a dog show. The galvanized roof was rusty, some louvers were missing from her windows and her yard was filled with dried ixora plants. The surprising part though, was that everyone who walked past her house said that they got the faint scent of barbecue chicken.

Andy was never afraid of the old woman before and he would bravely pass her house each day on his way to school.

“All you is coward!” he would mock his friends, who would cross the road when they got near the house. “Afraid of lil old Miss Jean?”

To Andy and his friends, Miss Jean was two hundred years old, one hundred and eighty minimum. She was tall but hunched, had wrinkled and saggy black skin and her head was always wrapped with a colorful Spiritual Baptist headtie that matched her dress. The only time anyone ever saw her, was if she was on her porch.

“She have no children,” Andy’s father told him one day, as they drove by her house. “And all she family dead long time now. That is why she lives alone.”

Andy wasn’t the brightest boy and he hated studying. He was quite delinquent too. His parents were often called into school to either discuss his grades or something bad he had done. He could stare at his phone screen all day, but if he had to read words on paper, it felt like his eyes were melting. He could play football and cricket with his friends for hours, but he couldn’t spend five minutes trying to solve a mathematics question.

He was failing almost every practice test, so his parents told him he had to study till eleven each night. The Secondary Entrance Assessment exam was coming up and he had to get into a good school. If he didn’t, they would make him repeat Standard Five and write the exam again the following year.

It's my fault, Andy thought.

“What you going to do?” Kareem asked.

“What?”

Andy’s mind was a mile away as they continued walking along the main road. They were nearing Scott Street and Miss Jean’s house. Hers was the first one, on the right.

“About the soucouyant?”

Andy rubbed the mark.

“It has to be Miss Jean, right?”

“I think so,” Andy replied.

“But why she targeting you?”

Andy shrugged. The two boys turned onto Scott Street. The afternoon sun was unforgiving and as they neared home, sweaty and smelling like towels soaked in vinegar, they made sure to stay on the sidewalk on the left side.

“What happen?” one of their friends far behind them shouted. “You fraid lil old Miss Jean?”

Andy didn’t answer and as he looked towards the house, he saw the old woman. His heart skipped. She sat in a chair drinking something hot.

In this weather? Andy thought.

Her hands were shaking slightly, like the few hairs on her chin. She was staring back at him. Her eyes were hidden behind her dark sunglasses, but Andy could feel her hot gaze fixed on him.

“Let’s go,” Kareem said, picking up the pace.

There was no wind, no sound and time seemed to have stopped. Andy couldn’t seem to walk away fast enough, so he began running. His big backpack was like a boulder weighing him down. His oversized blue shirt clung to his skinny torso like the old woman’s gaze. He looked up momentarily and the sun blinded him.

Ball of fire, he thought.

“A soucouyant don’t suck blood,” his older brother told him when he was younger. “They suck out your energy leaving behind a mark on your skin.”

“They suck your energy?” Andy asked.

“Yeah. That is their food. They have to do that to live.”

“I would just run away from one if I see it.”

“They do it at night when you sleeping.”

“But… how they get into your house?”

“They shed their skin in the night and turn into a ball of fire. Then they could get into a house through small openings or cracks. They will suck out your energy and just before the sun rise, they will escape, put back on their skin and look like a regular person again.”

“They look like regular people too?”

“Yeah. During the day, they look like an old lady… and they usually live alone.”

“Like… Miss Jean?”

“Exactly like Miss Jean,” his brother said with a grin. “And they target young boys, primary school age most of the time, but especially young boys that don’t do well at school.”

“Amit, that is enough,” their mother intervened. “Andy, don’t listen to your brother. There is no such thing as a soucouyant. Miss Jean is just a regular old lady.”

Andy faked a chuckle.

“He just troubling you,” she reassured.

“Andy,” Amit said. “Just make sure your grades good… otherwise Miss Jean… she will come for you.”

As Andy grew older, he believed his mother’s story more. He grew braver. After all the running, he was soaked. He said goodbye to Kareem, burst through his front door and ran up to his room. He took out his phone and called his brother. His bravery was gone.

“Amit? How do you stop a soucouyant from sucking your energy?”

“Hello to you too and wait, what did you say?”

“A soucouyant? How to stop it from sucking your energy?”

“Are you serious? I’ve been in England studying medicine for three years, we haven’t spoken in months and out of the blue, that is what you call to ask me?”

“Yes!” Andy yelled.

“Dude,” Amit began. “A soucouyant isn’t real. I- I was just messing with you all those years ago.”

“No,” Andy said, starting to sob. “I have a mark on my arm whole week now and I have no energy to stay awake at night and study. Miss Jean sucking my energy, because I am stupid and getting bad grades.”

“Andy… you are not stupid.”

“Yes I am. I can’t study and I not going to get into a good secondary school. I am the stupidest Standard Five student at Point Fortin Primary. She will suck my energy every night and I won’t be able to pass the SEA exam. She will kill me.”

“Calm down bro,” Amit said softly, pausing for a moment. “Just… Empty a big bowl of uncooked rice grains by the foot of your bed.”

“What?” Andy asked.

“When a soucouyant sees rice grains on the ground, they won’t suck your energy, they have to stop and count every grain. They will get annoyed when counting and will leave you alone.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Empty the rice in your room, but make sure you study and do well in your practice tests. That is the real way to stop her for good.”

Andy didn’t answer.

“Okay?” Amit asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Andy replied.

“Good. Now go and study.”

That night, Andy studied Mathematics, English and Science. His eyes didn’t feel like they were melting, but as it got closer to eleven, he felt drowsy. He was afraid to go to sleep. He closed his books, switched off his lamp and went to the kitchen to get a bowl of rice. His parents were already asleep, so he made sure to be quiet. He emptied the bowl of rice at the foot of his bed, put on his pajamas and got in bed. He was afraid to close his eyes. He touched the mark on his arm. He fought the sleep for as long as he could, until his eyelids became too heavy. Darkness.

“One, two, three…” a raspy voice said.

I smell...

“Forty six, forty seven, forty eight…”

Barbecue...

“Ninety two, ninety three, ninety four…”

Andy opened his eyes. It was still dark.

Where am I? he thought.

He couldn’t move. He raised his head and saw someone at the foot of his bed.

But… this isn’t my bed.

The walls and floor were rotten wood planks. The ceiling was rusty galvanize. The place smelled dusty, musky and like smoke. It was dark, with the only light coming from a small candle on the table to his left.

“Nice trick,” the voice said.

Andy was paralyzed, but he realized he was on an old grimy sofa, covered by his blanket. The figure stepped forward and his heart thundered in his chest.

“This is the last one. One hundred and ninety four.”

The figure approached slowly, with thudding footsteps. Andy felt warm, but his fingers and toes were cold and tingly. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and into his eye. It burned.

“Smart trick… from a stupid boy.”

The figure came near the candle and into the light. It was Miss Jean. Andy was too scared to speak. She was naked, but still wore a red floral headtie. Her skin was crumpled and loose and looked like worn leather. She came closer, breathing heavy, with her giant breasts dangling at her waist. She took off her sunglasses and revealed white eyes without pupils. She had one grain of rice in her palm.

I didn’t put enough rice, he thought.

“Stupid little boy,” she said, her voice coarse, her breath hot.

She reached out her hand with long clawlike fingernails to touch his face, but just hovered her index finger over his forehead.

“Please,” Andy whispered. “I’ll study. I will.”

“It’s too late for you stupid little boy.”

She took her right index finger and savagely pierced her chest with her fingernail. She groaned. There was no blood. She went down, slicing her skin down to her stomach. Andy heard the dogs in the neighborhood start to howl. Miss Jean then blew out the candle.

Darkness.

Silence.

“Are you afraid stupid boy?” she asked, after some time.

Andy didn’t answer. Suddenly, the room burst into light. The old woman was gone. Her leathery skin was on the floor and what stood before Andy was the figure of a young naked woman made of ethereal fire.

“Are you afraid?!” she yelled.

She ripped off the blanket and grabbed Andy by the wrist. Strangely, her touch was warm but didn’t burn. Her jaw unclenched and she suctioned onto the same spot on his arm.

“Please!” he begged. “I’m a good boy. I will study harder.”

Miss Jean didn’t answer. She continued sucking on his arm and Andy felt weaker and weaker.

“Please… Please…” he said, his eyelids growing heavy.

“Stupid boy.”

“Andy,” another voice said.

His eyes slowly reopened.

“Andy.”

Abruptly, he shot up. He was in his bed, in his room, in his house. He saw his desk with his textbooks, he saw his walls with posters of Leo Messi and Brian Lara. He smelled the aroma of his mother’s scrambled eggs.

“Andy,” his mother said. “You will be late for school. Again.”

He saw his mother standing at the doorway of his room. He jumped out of bed and ran to hug her. He began rambling about everything. About school, about his brother and about Miss Jean.

“Andy! Andy!” she said. “I tell you already. There is no such thing as a soucouyant.”

“But Ma,” he started.

“No buts silly child. Your mind is just playing tricks on you. Just get ready for school.”

She looked around the room and at his desk.

“I glad you taking your studies seriously now though,” she said. “You better do good on your next practice test or-”

“I will!” Andy responded, cutting her short. “I promise.”

-

Three months passed and the SEA exam was only two days away. Andy had been studying hard and his grades improved significantly. Mr. Lewis was pleased with his progress and so too were his parents. The most important thing though, was that the mark from his arm faded. His courage slowly returned and he began believing that his mind played tricks on him. Maybe the whole ordeal that night was a dream.

“You ready for SEA?” Kareem asked.

“Yeah,” Andy replied.

They were walking home from school and were about to turn onto their street. It was a sunny day, but it wasn’t too hot because a big cloud hid the sun and provided shade.

“What about… you know… the-”

“There’s no such thing as a soucouyant,” Andy replied.

He bravely walked on the side of the street where Miss Jean’s house was. She was sitting in a chair on her porch, wearing a red dress and a red headtie and she was sipping something hot. Andy looked at her. His heartbeat elevated, but he steadied himself.

“Good afternoon, Miss Jean,” Andy said, waving at the old woman.

Kareem, who was on the other side of the road, looked away and said nothing.

“Good afternoon child,” she said. “Good luck in your exam.”

She smiled. Andy turned away unsurely and as he continued walking, he felt her gaze on his back, slowly growing hotter.