Birth of the Devil-goat

By Dennis L. Siluk


Part I

Chapter One: the Birth

It was in a little lot of farm land outside of Cairo, Egypt, 1998 that this happening, took place that a voice of a demon, and a figure of a devil peered through the skin of a goat, upon its birth, the old man shuddered at its appearance, his niece, who farmed the land with him, remained still, paused impressively as the birth took place, the old man demanded she kill the freak quickly if not instantly, crying, “Kill, kill, kill the freak…!” You could hear in the tiny head of the creature, its voice humming a death song for the old man, a chant, as it lay in an open shed, next to a large bull; a few cars drove by, a hundred-yards from the open shed—it was early, the sun just appearing lightening up the closed shack next to the shed where the two individuals lived. The old man’s hands stretched up to heaven, and he cried “Allah…!” and he fell to his knees, his niece still in amazement at this extraordinary birth, in this intriguing but not much more than a dirt farm batch.
For the rest of the brief five minutes, they witnessed from this little farm, as they remained in silent, the birth of a devil-goat, so the old man called it inside their minds, in lack of a better name.

Fatima was an orphan taken in by her uncle several years prior, her mother had died earlier because of her delicate health, she died on top of a Cairo bridge, that crossed the Nile River, under a cardboard box she had used for shelter, there Fatima remained until her uncle, Solomon, found her, and took the child to the rented out piece of land he now plowed and planted and harvested. The lonely stony plot spreading to the highway produced vegetable, and for the most part, the owner charged little for it, feeling it better to keep the price reduced and someone, thus, having someone to watch the land, and kill two birds with one stone. It was really just a large patch of land, being farmed, not a farm in the sense of a large piece of land.

The road wound past several small farms, the edge of the lot, crossed the road it was all plateau here, and the great pyramids were not far away, a beautiful sight for the tourist driving by, should he not look at the dirt farm on the other side and be disenchanted, and in front of the lot, was an old hinged fence, long was the fence in front of the roadway, and tall was grass along side of it. The old man’s face twitched with his dull and dim dark eyes as he stared at the creation of this suddenly new birth of a creature, a voice that sounded like the beating of an old deep and rustic metal drum came from its frame. It leaped up and onto its hind hoofs, Solomon was saying at the time: “See I told you to kill it…!” (Just how to kill it he d not mentioned.)
She left him presently, stepped a few feet closer to the creature, “You’ll have a chance to live,” she mumbled as she looked down upon the creature, the old man clutched fisted now.
The harsh throbbing voice, faint as it was, could somehow understood Fatima, it spoke in a foreign voice, foreign to any other language ever produced on earth, yet she could understand. She had many questions in her mind: such as, where did it come from, how did it get here, what exactly was it? She didn’t ask those questions out loud, she just thought them.
(I can answer all these questions for you though, but she would never know it for herself, not exactly anyway. It was a tragic thing that took place, casual as it seemed in the sense, one day a persons life is as it always was, and then an abrupt change takes place, but after a moments time, it all seems somewhat normal again, hence, the breath of life entering a young goat, life from another species, horrible looking, shockingly creating a goat like demon, is not casual, but it seemingly became so in time, in a short period of time for Fatima anyhow. It came from a place called: “The Prison House for Angels”, these angels were fallen angels. You’ve never heard of it you say, well, if not, don’t be incongruous, for there is and was a place called that, it was beyond Orion, created by God, long before the earth was created. It was needed more than ever back then, for when the angels rebelled, where would the damned go, God spread out a village for the damned in the dark hidden parts of the universe. Here no one could hear the faint, ghostly cries of the voices behind the invisible wall, like lions in cages they were. All floating in space and quivering in the darkness, dying in their silence from the rest of the universe, this was their abode, showered with streaks of crimson fires far beyond their reach. And then, Azaz’el was released, to be brought down to earth’s hell, for what reason I do no know. And somehow he escaped and now he was being reborn in this goat, secretly you could say, for who beyond God Himself would realize such a birth was taking place, surprisingly on the very planet the two angelic beings were to bringing Azaz’el, but of course to the lower chambers of the earth.)

Terror had swamped Solomon, yes that is what the goat-devil saw in his eyes, as it stretched out its new body to several feet; now a hoofed beast, with three horns, naked with wet hair from foot to crown. Solomon now showed more poignant terror than anyone could imagine. But the adolescent feared not, actually she started to laugh lugubriously. (The creature lost something in its birth process, something it had when in the “Prison House for Angels,” it lost its matured mind, it was now deformed, defected, reduced to a lower capacity; it knew, but didn’t know—you could say, it heard the voice of the girl, fragmented, and it stared blankly at her, he called out: ‘Mother!’ The creature was a child beast, a devil-goat, so it looked. It may have escaped one destiny, only to find a dreary new one.)
It noticed a faint skeptical smile on the girl, heard her humming softly, “You are right, uncle, I should have killed the creature, but I can’t.” she said.
The uncle tried to brush away her crazy talk, her new obsessed caring for the creature, as the creature now was all of eight feet tall, broad at the shoulders, the Uncle horrible tense, standing by that open shad, the bull uneasy, brooding about the hay.



Chapter Two: The Light


It was early morning, and light starting to stretch out over the land, the struggling birth was over; the goat’s mother had died giving birth to the creature. And Fatima was now its new mother, or so the creature thought. Fog was disappearing from the roadway, and the old man was dune quivering, all sat back against the woodened wall of the shed, seemingly like ghosts. The foreign language of the creature seemed to adjust to Fatima’s mind, although to the uncle it seemed to be nothing more than grunts and groans. The ghostly death of the mother goat, in the early silence of the morning was no more than a blur now. The old man had buried the goat, in fear if he ate it, or cut it opened, it might trigger a new development, one he didn’t want. Thus, he took the goat behind the shed and buried it. Perhaps that sounds foolish, I know, but I can only tell you how it was, foolish or not. Now flashing lights from the roadway appeared. “Damn it,” the old man said as he walked around the shed, looking at the fog lift, the car lights, “Damn it, you can’t live with this thing, it’s deadly, and it will murder us in the middle of the night.” Then as he became visible to the creature and Fatima, he went blank in the face, as if not to show any signs of complaint, said nothing distinguishable, only mumbles as old men often do. He went over to the two, pushed the dark black huge bull to the side, it moved quickly, then the old man said to Fatima, “You thought you heard a dead mans cry earlier within the birth of this creature, I do believe it was his mind changing, agonizing in the process, it went like a leap, from what it was to a child, look at it, it seems to be bloodthirsty and at the same time, excited over you looking at it, as a child to a mother. It’s a real thing for sure, but who owns it, is a different story.”
(What was going through his mind perhaps was: could he be so lucky as to try to control this freak of nature, and make money off it in the near future—like ‘King Kong’? I mean, was this a chance in a life time, or was this strange creature indeed too dangerous to play such a game with, for the old man said to Fatima: “Strangeness nowadays, people pay to see that!” It was more of a question-statement, but Fatima did not answer, and the creature simply looked at Solomon when he spoke, then looked at Fatima, somehow feeling if she looked decrepit because of his voice or words, he was dead, or soon could be. But she held her facial features, likened to flat. At this point the old man looked confused, an echo went back and forth in his brain; again he stood clutching his fists, almost fearful, but now with more force, and with anger…he shrugged his shoulders, started to walk out of the shed, and with a leap the creature grabbed him by throat, lifted him up above the ground, his feet dangling, Fatima just looked, and looked and looked, and his mouth opened, and its teeth showed and it was hungry, and Fatima looked, and looked and looked again, and the creature’s teeth were sharp like the fangs of a huge dogs, and it seemed like he wanted to swallow a good portion of the old man’s right limp, it was dangling in front of his eyes, and he was hungry, and his limbs were just dangling helplessly, a rip, a quick rip is all it would take, then the creature smiled as it looked at Fatima, as if awaiting for permission to eat, and he’d be fed, and she smiled…!)


Part Three: The Harm


“Let me go,” yelled the old man. But as the Azaz’el looked at Fatima, her face suggested with some bitterness, not to, she had and held a cold look, reprovingly saying ‘no’ and quicker than the sheering of sheep’s wool, the creature had in its mouth a limb, the right arm of the old man, and you could hear the crunching of the bones, and in his throat, which was now lumped with the limp, the creature tried to swallow…it came to look again upon its mother, Fatima, its hair long now on its naked body. He dropped the old man to the ground, her eyes widened, “Why,” cried the old man, “I took you in as a child, why did you not stop the creature, he is some sort of devil beast and animal?” The beast crawled now on its knees, rampaging around the shed like a devil-dog. The old man stayed put, not wanting to get near him Then Fatima assured him, that the creature would not harm him again, that it was a lesson for him, a terrible one yes, but nonetheless a lesson for him not to decide to do her child harm, and the sabertooth creature now clasped her hands, and kissed them.
“Oh Uncle Solomon why? Why do you think such things of Azaz, he is just born and you want to harm him, he came alone into this empty hearted world; this is a warning for you.” She was irritated with him; she glanced at him with a look of pleading almost, yet visibly wilted.
“You mean to tell me,” said the old man, bleeding from his shoulder, “a girl like you is the mother of this creature like man, or devil, it fails me?”
“Certainly I am,” she said quickly.
“Well, I’ll be—“ said the old man as he began to fall into a bewilderment, drift off to sleep, the pain was too much, and there was no relief, and when he woke up, several hours later, his wound had been attended to, one arm less of courses.


Part II


Chapter Four: The Condemned

He had awoke two days later, in the gray cold light of the morning, he felt condemned, his executioner was not far away from him in the shed, Fatima was not in the room … he could hear her voice outside talking to the bull…



DR (10-24-2007)