It was in the premature hours of early morning, when i received that ominous call. That sinister ring, reverberating through the four corners of my house just half past midnight. When the ringing lasted longer than 15 seconds, i anticipated a wicked night ahead. The silence of the house made my mind sharp. It was as if i had a sixth sense of what was coming.

A night of ghosts and ghouls yet again.

At midnight, i don't expect any marriage proposals, business deals or banquet invitations.

The ad goes : "Modern Exorcist Service/ Perkhidmatan Bomoh Modern : 012-908 6789."

I put it up everywhere possible. Particular emphasis : those rural villages where roads are infested with potholes after potholes, where neon lights are scarce, where houses stay apart from each other. Where the devil roams.

"Modern", in the ad, defines my fashion sense, rather than any progressive method of exorcism. Heck, i was forced into this profession, at the very least i should have the freedom to choose what to wear. I'm clad in black coat and slacks, white shirt and a red tie. My Bata leather shoes complete my western appearance. And of course, the songkok. A helmet would mess up my hair, so i don't use it.

I was once held up by a police officer for wearing only the songkok. He asked for some form of bribery. But i managed to subdue him with my powers.

Yes, i ride a bike to work. A Honda Super Cub. Exorcism doesn't make you a millionaire.

I loaded my arsenal into my briefcase, consisting of "Manual of exorcism", written by my 'legendary' exorcist dad, a tranquilizer gun and darts of Benzodiazepines and Haloperidols and other anti psychotics.

In medical school, you learn about psychosis and its causes. From tumours to severe depression to schizophrenia to degenerative brain disease, sclerosis or as a complication of conditions such as electrolyte disbalance in the body. They are all manifested with delusions and hallucinations.

But i'm not treating any of that.

My cases are due to supernatural etiologies. Of unexplained nature. There were cases of schizophrenics mumbling about their prophecies and a great deal of the end of the world, but those are as rare as seeing a six legged rabbit munching on watermelon. When they do happen, somebody just calls the ambulance and i would go back and have a good night sleep.

The problem arises when they are not medical cases.
And mostly they are not and those tranquilizer guns make me look like a second grade FBI agent.

Kampung Jahanam would take about 15 mins on the motorbike. Albeit a short journey, it was enough to get my head rolling of what to expect.

The call was atypical.

"He's waiting for you."

"Who's waiting for what?"

"For the son of Samad the exorcist."

A short and simple call which injected more enquiries.

There was no time for me to check through the files left by my dad, but his enemies are aplenty. But the caller, Pak Aboo is his old friend, and the his voice was slightly trembling. On my way, i stopped at a 24 hour sundry shop to buy a pack of Marlboro, not for me, but for the devil himself.

For this nefarious nemesis awaiting me. A new school exorcist against an old school nemesis.

I never asked to be the son of an exorcist. I never asked to be part of this occultic scene. Maybe this was fated to be.

And when i arrived, the hypnotized body of the victim was dancing under the light bulb. Dancing and whistling, wearing that psychotic smile that never fails to excite me. And he started to sing. It was impromptu and the song sucked. He had the voice of a girl high on steroids. The language was inconceivable.

Then he stared right into my eyes, his ruby red eyes spoke of hatred and damnation.

"I was waiting for you."

It was, indeed going to be a wicked night.

As much as i hated being an exorcist, did i mention my penchance for a good old conversation?

"Care for a cigarette?". The devil-man took a cigarette and started to sip.

And we started to talk...

PS : I'm trying to write a short story of a modern day bomoh who is a medical student dropout. He's a son of a bomoh and seems to naturally inherit the abilities of his dad. He never wanted to become one, but due to some circumstances, he has taken the task with a heavy heart. Maybe i'll write it on another blog.


angelus_izika said...


QifA said...

haha..saja buat crita pendek..nnt sambung balik..