It was a cold night
It was a cold night; the wind was blowing fiercely towards the east side. The waves from the Indian Ocean were howling like a hungry dog waiting on his prey. The people of Zanji were sleeping after a long day of hard work and labor. There was a legend that said when the wind blows that intensely from the ocean, a pack of angry wolves with three heads would pass, eating anything in their path and leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. No one who has ever lived there ever confirmed this story to be true, but this never stopped the children of Zanji believing in it and asking their elders to tell them stories about the famous legend. As the night drifted on, there was a strange thud near the coast, like something had been crushed by a big foot. In a cottage near the water, someone called Shakoz (whom people just called Shako) was startled by the sudden sound. Shako was always awake at this time of night. Nobody knew what this man did either in the day or at night. But he was awake counting his vazold (stones of much value); he never did this in the light of day. Now that Mr. Shako was awake and alone, he heard the strange noise now amplified and carried by the wind. Mr. Shako had heard the legend since he was a young boy, and that was the first thing that came to his mind: the image of a three-headed beast. He pushed the thought away, took the vazolds and hid them. Mr. Shako looked for his poison spears and a bow and snuck out of the house. He could hear creaking sounds from the bush near his house, the darkness creating terrifying shadows which made Mr. Shako's vigilance impaired. He thought, "Maybe I should go back home and bolt the door.” The thought kept replaying in his mind, but something kept him gravitating towards the place where he heard the strange noise.
They say “death calls on you when the graveyard is empty”. Well, Mr. Shako couldn’t see what was beyond the bush, but he heard something...
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