suggestion has caused me to blow ordinary occurrences out of proportion.”
“Believe what you will.” Mrs. Aswadi offered Laura a seat. “But hear this.
“Long ago some of the women from the village of Dabobo tricked the mother spirit into giving them immortality. Upon discovering she had been tricked, the angry goddess punished the entire village by causing terrible plagues. The innocent suffering villagers searched for the source of the goddess’s anger. When they learned what some of the women had done, they drove them into the dark jungle. No one would help these women, for fear the mother spirit would turn her wrath on them. The women wandered endlessly without rest, getting older and older and older, yet unable to die.You see, they had forgotten to ask the mother spirit for eternal youth. These women were called the Dabobo women of darkness.”
Mrs. Aswadi took a book from a nearby shelf. Finding the page she wanted, she pointed to a picture and said, “See. Here is an artist’s carving of a Dabobo in her last human form.”
Laura studied the image of the wizened old woman whose features hardly resembled those of a human. She swallowed hard. “Th-this doesn’t look like the little statue I bought,” she said.
“After centuries, the Dabobo women wasted away—and only their anger and meanness survived. They disguised themselves in many different forms to gain entry into a home.”
“Why?”
“To take from you what was taken from them.”
The room felt hot and stuffy to Laura. She wiped her brow. “Tell me about the little monkey figure with the feathered headdress.”
Mrs. Aswadi reached inside her pocket and pulled out a doll just like Mr. Feathers. “This is a gingi, also very old and very powerful. In this form it is merely a trinket. But pure love unlocks its powers. Like the Dabobo, it too can take on many different forms when it is protecting ordefending its owner against harm. I pray you still have the gingi I gave you, because as sure as I live, you took a Dabobo home with you.”
“I gave the gingi to my little girl.”
“Good. Children can unlock the protective powers of the gingi long before an adult.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
“Would you have believed me? Do you believe me now?”
Mrs. Aswadi was right, and Laura left the shop not knowing what to think. Had she stumbled on to something old and dangerously wicked? And had her arrogance stopped her from admitting it? She remembered Lizzie’s words:
A mean, ugly witch lives inside
.
“No,” Laura said, stopping the car but completely unaware of how she’d driven home. “I will not believe it!”
You and your family could be in grave danger…
“I will not fall for that nonsense,” she said. Later that evening Laura slipped into Lizzie’s room and took Mr. Feathers from under the sleeping child’s pillow. August, who slept at Lizzie’s feet, woke up, stretched, then followed Laura out of the room. “We’ll replace this creepy thing with something much healthier tomorrow.”
With a single purpose, Laura hurried downthe stairs, stopped by the curio cabinet, and took out the ebony figurine. August waited at the back door. Once outside, she poured lighter fluid on both figures and burned them in the barbecue. “So much for superstitions and hauntings,” she said as she marched back to the house.
August lingered to chase a moving shadow. Suddenly he stiffened and hissed. “Come on, boy,” Laura called.
“Hysteria! That’s what it was.” Laura paced back and forth as she told Jack about her talk with Mrs. Aswadi. “I just got caught up in her story, and when she showed me the picture of a Dabobo, I let the power of suggestion twist my thoughts into believing there might be one trying to hurt us and a gingi trying to protect us.”
Laura flopped onto the bed. “Add superstition to a few odd coincidences, combine that with a child’s imagination and an old house. What do you get? A
“Believe what you will.” Mrs. Aswadi offered Laura a seat. “But hear this.
“Long ago some of the women from the village of Dabobo tricked the mother spirit into giving them immortality. Upon discovering she had been tricked, the angry goddess punished the entire village by causing terrible plagues. The innocent suffering villagers searched for the source of the goddess’s anger. When they learned what some of the women had done, they drove them into the dark jungle. No one would help these women, for fear the mother spirit would turn her wrath on them. The women wandered endlessly without rest, getting older and older and older, yet unable to die.You see, they had forgotten to ask the mother spirit for eternal youth. These women were called the Dabobo women of darkness.”
Mrs. Aswadi took a book from a nearby shelf. Finding the page she wanted, she pointed to a picture and said, “See. Here is an artist’s carving of a Dabobo in her last human form.”
Laura studied the image of the wizened old woman whose features hardly resembled those of a human. She swallowed hard. “Th-this doesn’t look like the little statue I bought,” she said.
“After centuries, the Dabobo women wasted away—and only their anger and meanness survived. They disguised themselves in many different forms to gain entry into a home.”
“Why?”
“To take from you what was taken from them.”
The room felt hot and stuffy to Laura. She wiped her brow. “Tell me about the little monkey figure with the feathered headdress.”
Mrs. Aswadi reached inside her pocket and pulled out a doll just like Mr. Feathers. “This is a gingi, also very old and very powerful. In this form it is merely a trinket. But pure love unlocks its powers. Like the Dabobo, it too can take on many different forms when it is protecting ordefending its owner against harm. I pray you still have the gingi I gave you, because as sure as I live, you took a Dabobo home with you.”
“I gave the gingi to my little girl.”
“Good. Children can unlock the protective powers of the gingi long before an adult.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
“Would you have believed me? Do you believe me now?”
Mrs. Aswadi was right, and Laura left the shop not knowing what to think. Had she stumbled on to something old and dangerously wicked? And had her arrogance stopped her from admitting it? She remembered Lizzie’s words:
A mean, ugly witch lives inside
.
“No,” Laura said, stopping the car but completely unaware of how she’d driven home. “I will not believe it!”
You and your family could be in grave danger…
“I will not fall for that nonsense,” she said. Later that evening Laura slipped into Lizzie’s room and took Mr. Feathers from under the sleeping child’s pillow. August, who slept at Lizzie’s feet, woke up, stretched, then followed Laura out of the room. “We’ll replace this creepy thing with something much healthier tomorrow.”
With a single purpose, Laura hurried downthe stairs, stopped by the curio cabinet, and took out the ebony figurine. August waited at the back door. Once outside, she poured lighter fluid on both figures and burned them in the barbecue. “So much for superstitions and hauntings,” she said as she marched back to the house.
August lingered to chase a moving shadow. Suddenly he stiffened and hissed. “Come on, boy,” Laura called.
“Hysteria! That’s what it was.” Laura paced back and forth as she told Jack about her talk with Mrs. Aswadi. “I just got caught up in her story, and when she showed me the picture of a Dabobo, I let the power of suggestion twist my thoughts into believing there might be one trying to hurt us and a gingi trying to protect us.”
Laura flopped onto the bed. “Add superstition to a few odd coincidences, combine that with a child’s imagination and an old house. What do you get? A
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