The Voodoo Doll (1st. Twisted Tales)

FIRST PLACE IN THE TWISTED TALES CONTEST by Arakun the twisted raccoon , September 2011

FEATURED in The Writing.Com Newsletter -  Short Stories: Teensy Tiny Tricks that Titillate - Editor's Picks, by Shannon , November 7, 2012

FEATURED in the WDC Newsletter - Mystery: Breaking and Entering - Editor's Picks, by Arakun the twisted raccoon , April 23, 2014

Armando Jose Santos found all the information he needed on how to make a Voodoo doll on-line. He had to be careful, though. His mother couldn't know about this at all. She would never, ever agree to such an idea; she was a true believer, a religious fanatic and those unearthly things only belonged to Lucifer's domain. He would burn in h-e-l-l if he dared deal with the red darkness and the like. Besides, she had never understood Armando’s curious endeavors and sometimes he thought that she really wanted him to burn in hell. She didn't... like him. He felt it deep inside of him. A gut feeling.

He could feel her thoughts - moving - inside her head and saying - no, whispering words such as he can't be my son, no, he isn't my son.. So, he'd just go right ahead and do whatever he wanted to do. It didn't matter, anyway, did it? Furthermore, the Voodoo doll was just for the kick of it. Just for fun - not that he was going to “use” it. No, not at all. Well… maybe a little --- he could kind of test its powers… and maybe try to get his lover... back. 

Pablo had left him, out of the blue, for no reason. He still suffered day and night and slept with Pablo's pajamas – the one he forgot to take with him when he shut the door on that damned evening. They had quarreled about that nightclub and all those available men out there - smiling, winking their eyes wherever he went and Armando hated it. He said that he needed some time off. What a silly thing to say to a loved one - time off. He still ached for Pablo with every inch of his body.

His scent. This had been the first reason which made him fall in love with Pablo. His red roses scent. It wasn't just an explosion of unexplainable feelings that attracted him to Pablo but his complete absence of arrogance when he was amongst people, a firm attitude and steady smile that made people look at him with attention and respect. The little things in him convinced Armando that Pablo was the right man for him. He felt as if he had been enchanted by him, cast in a love spell that would last - forever. It didn't but he could still feel as if he was being constantly pulled by invisible forces which brought his name and face back from the darkness he wanted to keep Pablo in. It was stronger than him - this force.

Well, back to serious things. The voodoo doll. Google gave him all the information he needed; he had read many curious facts about these special dolls. He read that the fun thing about making voodoo dolls was that pretty much anything goes. Ooh this was going to be fun! All his friends were making one – it was the latest trend. He had to have one, too.

Also, there were so many options … and interesting stories about voodoo dolls which made him become more anxious to own one; make one himself. The truth about this was that he loved sewing and his mother, Dona Fenicia, never understood his feminine side - she said he was like “that” because the Devil had... touched his skinny red finger on Armando when he was born. Sometimes he thought that she was either too religious or simply… mean. She was always so... mean.

Maybe this was the reason his father had left them for good on that New Years eve, seven years ago. He had left to buy cigarettes and have some cachaça shots with friends. He never came back. Just like that, for no reason at all. After that, Dona Fenicia was never the same person again and radically changed in a week. Now she was neurotically religious, wore long, black skirts and became foolishly stubborn.

The following Saturday morning, while his mother was at the local church's meeting, he went to a Voodoo store in the distant suburbs of Madureira and two hours away from Rio de Janeiro. He had to catch two buses in order to get there but that was the best place to go to for Umbanda and Quimbanda shopping.

When he walked into the store, a woman approached him wearing a long, red and green robe. She was a happy, short and plump Afro-Brazilian woman with fat cheeks and shinny white teeth.

“Welcome to the Voodoo Treats Store! My name is Dona Filomena!”

“Hi. My name is Armando.”

“How may I help you?”

“I---I am looking for a Voodoo doll - the Devil Spell Series, to be exact.”

“What is the doll... for?”

“Well, I...”

“The reason I’m asking you is that the Voodoo Spell Series doll has two types: the Devil and the Love Spell Series.”

“Oh I... well... I don’t know. I... want to get my Pablo back. Can you help me?”

“If I can help you? If I can HELP you? Of course I can! Dona Filomena can certainly help you. I own this store for seven years - a family business, mind you, and I know almost everything about Voodoo and the sort. I know about Macumba, Haitian Vodum, Voodoo dolls, Spells, Black Magic, Tarot cards and the 7 Secrets of Magic Explosions for Ceremonial Fires using special gunpowder.”

“Oh my... you DO know.”

“If I know? If I KNOW? Of course I do! I also know that if you want to mess with the ‘other’ side, you must be careful - ‘they’ are always trying to play tricks on you! I’ve done some serious stuff. I know how to “cut” curses with the Secrets of the Seven Knives, about Crossroads, spirits and ghosts (there is a big difference there, mind me), Black Offerings, White Offerings, typical clothes and gear; about any color candles and incenses. I can help you with necklaces, colored beads, stones, lucky charms, herbs, teas, lotions, potions, love potions and many others “things” about life and death. I have seen it all.”

“What about Deities? Can you “see” mine?”

“If I can see your Deity? If I can SEE Deity? Of course I can! Your Deity is ‘Seu’ Meia Noite - I saw him right behind you the moment you came into the store. Tall, mean and powerful. He rules the dark - the night, not the day. His rules over all the other Deities, you know - Ms Pomba Gira, Mr. Tranca-Rua, Mr. 7 Crossroads, the Forest People and the Caboclos but he does not rule over Iemanjá - the Queen of the 7 Seas, no sir, no sir, no he doesn’t. It’s like water over fire - she is more powerful!”

“Oh my... the hair on the back of my head stood up!. All this is so scary!”

“Scary? Scary? Listen, sweetheart, I have done it all. Nothing surprises or scares me anymore. Nothing... inhuman fears me more than... humans themselves, hear me. They are the worst kind - humans. Evil and meanness are innate in their souls.”

Dona Filomena, spoke to Armando as if she wasn’t human but belonged to a different type of God’s creation. The better kind. The nicer kind. They talked all afternoon.
She sold him a Love Spell Voodoo doll series disposal kit which she said was much better than the ones sold on-line, for sure, and for his purposes.

The kit was complete and even it even came with a pair of scissors. Armando was delighted. He giggled happily. The small but expensive box came with complete instructions - he couldn’t wait to go home. He hugged her, kissed her noisily and danced with her in the middle of the store while Mr. Crossroad, Miss Satan-Dame and the Caboclo Preto Velho images stared back at them; observing silently from the dark and dusty shelves.

Once in the silence and privacy of his small, cinnamon scented room he opened the box slowly. He was sweating nervously and his long black hair, tied up in a pony tail, was damp and stuck on his shoulders. He clapped both hands quickly, both fascinated and tickled pink and gently sat on the pink, faded carpet near his bed, on the floor.

He removed his shoes and massaged his thin, delicate toes. He needed a pedicure, but right now, he needed to concentrate. He was about to make his very own Voodoo doll but first - he had to read the little booklet about the… “dangers” of having Voodoo dolls in a home.

Dona Filomena had loudly warned him so, before he left the store. Read the booklet! She had also  told him that the doll was powerful because it was used to represent the spirit of a specific person. You can address the doll as if you were talking to the person of your "demand", requesting a total change in attitude; influencing the person to act in accordance with your very own wishes and desires.

Armando still remembered her words and their conversation before he left the store:
“When you are in possession of a Voodoo doll, you can immediately summon the doll to call upon powerful forces known as Loa (the God & Spirits), where they reign over hate, love, family, wealth and revenge affairs - which are dark and ancient. They can help you perform effective rituals to fulfill specific dreams, urgent desires.”

“Fascinating!”

“Yes, Armando. Yes, Armando! Also, know that this timeless ceremony when carried out - persuade the spirits to exert their influence in this world and on people!”

“What does Voodoo mean?”

“What does Voodoo mean? Voodoo means Spirit of God. It also means that you are accepting the existence of only one God – but the dark side one!  This system of beliefs originated from Africa. Did you know that there are around fifty million followers worldwide today – from Jamaica, the Caribbean, Trinidad & Tobago, Cuba, Haiti, New Orleans and… from Brazil?”

“How do you use it... for love?”

“How do you use it for love? Basically, for anyone who is searching for love, for a former love and for “solutions” in their lives… Loa awaits your call when you have your own Voodoo doll and becoming more powerful when you make one yourself, as you are!”

“Oh I can’t wait. I can’t wait.”

“But beware, Armando. You should never e v e r forget that Voodoo dolls act in the dark, negative and evil side because, basically, you are asking for something that… you don’t own; that you don’t have or that you weren’t able to have – without its help – and, being contradictory to life itself. So, I tell you again: beware! Voodoo dolls are downright… bad mojo!”

Armando relaxed, stretched out his arms, licked his lips, pulled all his long, black hair backwards, fully concentrated and carefully opened the box. He followed the easy-to-follow instructions and diligently worked on the doll for over two hours.

When he finally finished the doll he admired his little baby and kissed it noisily. It looked so pretty. He kissed it again but quickly hid the doll under his pillow. Dona Fenicia might find it - not a good thing to happen, no sir. He finally went to sleep, dreaming of angels, ribbons, needles, threads and of Pablo, dancing around a bonfire, wearing a pink pouch, shaking his arms up in the air and blowing him tender cinnamon scented kisses in the air - 7 kisses to be exact.

Next morning, Armando had breakfast with his mother. As usual, she was grumpy and mean - always seeming to be in a hurry.
“Good morning, mother!” He hugged her and kissed her on her left cheek but she immediately cleaned her cheek with her skeletal-like hand.

“Your kisses are so very... wet and noisy. I want you to stop this!”, she said rudely.

“Good morning, m-o-t-h-e-r.”

“Good morning. I am leaving for church soon so hurry up with your breakfast. The church members are waiting for me.”

“Are you going to meet with nice Padre Bento, too?”

“No. It’s a member meeting, not mass. Come on, hurry up. I must go.”

Armando Jose wondered why his mother was that way and acted so differently in church with those... weasels. A bunch of weasels, even her, his mother. They pretend to be devoted.  Armando couldn’t understand her beliefs anymore. He just wished she would disappear together with them - somewhere. She was such a disappointment for him. All his other friends were a-d-o-r-e-d by their mothers - why didn't she worship and adore him? She only talked about Jesus. And, of the devil. I hate her.

Back to the silence of his room he got dressed and put on his shoes. He lifted his soft pillow and stared at his doll. He grabbed it and caressed it gently, moving his arms tenderly. Then, he couldn’t help it… he had an idea – see if it worked. Why not? He opened the Voodoo doll box and found the long, thin needle that came with it.

Holding his breath he slowly and delicately poked the doll’s left arm with the needle, but nothing happened... He heard a glass break in the kitchen. He heard his mother complain and swear out loud. She was mighty upset that morning so he’d better go. He would summon his precious Voodoo doll and test its powers later on tonight.

Before leaving the house he tried to kiss his mother goodbye, but she nervously withdrew - complaining that his kisses were always too noisy. He didn’t pay much attention to this - or it would disturb him and make him cry for the rest of the day and he left for the salon. I really hate her. He tried to feel happy. He kind of felt that the Voodoo doll was charged with energy and… goodness - maybe it would help him become a better person – not that he was mean. He was a good person and he loved his life. He was who he was… he couldn’t change his inner nature and personal desires, he simply couldn’t. His mother would never understand him, though. Wasn't it enough for her that he was just himself, different and... good?

Dona Fenicia washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen floor where the glass had broken. She wondered why she had felt that sudden pain on her left arm which made her drop the glass. The weirdest of feelings had crossed her body like a painful flash of lightning; a pain followed by a strange numbness. She didn’t have much time to think about that right now. She needed to hurry up with the other chores - clean the house, his room and do the laundry - before going to church. It was an important day: a group prayer for more tolerance and more understanding in the world. She couldn’t miss that; besides, the congregation would be all there. She had to be on time or they would judge her commitments and posture as a solid member of the community. She couldn’t be late. What would they think of her and of her… faith?

She went into Armando’s room. She knew that he kept it tidy and she hardly ever needed to complain about mess yet, she almost always found the most disgusting objects there --- from dirty magazines full of naked men to pink panties, lipsticks and… other strange objects he bought which she would throw away immediately.
This… is a man’s room - not a woman’s. Ooh why hadn’t God given me a daughter instead? I need to cross myself seven times when I come into his room. I must never doubt God’s wishes, though. He knows what He is doing. Besides… it isn't up to me to... Ooh my God... what is... this? Jesusmaryandjoseph! God almighty! A Voodoo doll under his pillow? What is he up to now? Voodoo dolls are bad. Evil. Evil things from hell - from Lucifer. From Satan. Devil's work! Is he going mad, c r a z y??? What is wrong with him? The Beast! Yes, Satan has taken over his body, possessed his mind and soul and is controlling - ordering him to practice Santeria! Lucifer has taken control of Armando. Yes! Yes! Yes! I must take him to church! Exorcism! Yes! I must tell Padre Bento! He always says that out of church… there is NO salvation, no redemption, no immortality. Satan does not belong in this house! No! I have to walk, go, run to church. Now!

She quickly picked the doll up with two fingers, took it to the kitchen, soaked it in alcohol, light a match and set the Voodoo doll on fire - throwing it in the small yard. The burning of the wood, the cotton and the moss together with the fabric sizzled in the air and sparked sinister dark smoke up to the sky, like a small but violent twister! Ashes coiled and twisted in the air like burning faces from hell. And the noise - the noise was terrible. The smell, disgusting. The fire was so powerful that it immediately melted the two red buttons into a wild look and a red, thin patch of cloth became a twisted smile on the Voodoo doll's face. After  seven minutes there was nothing left - box and all - not a single trace of Armando’s doll - only a nasty smell of rotten… flesh and burnt ashes that seemed like... bones.

Rotten flesh? Bones? No, she dismissed the idea. She quickly scattered some sea salt over the ashes and screamed loudly at the remains of cotton and wood while shaking her wrist high up in the air, violently.

“Hell! You are to rot in Hell! Quickly.” She shut the back door, changed into her habitual black dress and black shoes. She covered her head with her thin, black shawl and quickly hurried to church to pray for the world’s eternal salvation. Hell was taking charge of the planet! She had to stop Satan from controlling the world. She would not be hoodooed by a doll, no way in this world!

Until today, nobody in town understood why Armando, after happily leaving the salon, nicely manicured and feeling great -  unexpectedly and in front of the salon's entrance, became a combusting human torch, twisting, running and screaming hysterically --- covered by horrifying yellow, blue and red flames which completely burnt him to the very last piece of his flesh, bones and his poor lost soul. People still today say it was as if he had literally... burnt in hell in exactly seven minutes.

Words: 3,069