The Black Spot

I stood near the halfway sign of the trail trying hard to see if he was coming. It was almost midnight and all I had was an old oil lamp. The fog was impenetrable and the heavy cold rain was pouring onto my head and body. The drops felt like pebbles being thrown at me by Mrs. Andrew's spoiled children. Little devils, I'd say. It was an intimidating and lonesome trail, hardly ever transited by human beings, partly because the forest surrounding it was extremely dense and dangerous, but somehow it gave me a sense of security. Still, I felt exposed and insignificant compared to the enormous trees that stood defiantly next to each other, hiding an unknown green world behind them. He was so late that I had begun to think the worst. Maybe in his rush he had hit his head hard against a tree and was lying unconscious on the ground. Or maybe he had come across a pack of wolves and was being slowly and painfully devoured. Hopefully not! He was probably just late, so I simply waited and waited, now and then, blowing on my hands to warm them up.

My horse was next to me, soaked and hungry. Poor thing. I didn't blame it, 'cause I, myself, was also hungry and tired and upset. I had been there for about an hour. My feet were cold and I couldn't feel my toes anymore. I tried to walk around a bit, but it was so muddy and my lamp's light was so dim that I simply decided to squat. It felt good. Everything looked so big, so different. It made me think about my childhood. "Look at you, you're too skinny. You're no good here," my mom used to tell me all the time. When she got pregnant for the second time, she was expecting another strong boy, but instead she had me. A girl that should've been a man. My parents ran a farm, so I guess they expected to get some help from their kids. "Stay here and wash the dishes. Clean a bit, do something! Earn your bread and butter!" Regarded as weak, I wasn't allowed to help them sow the fields and harvest them. I was the wrong gender. It made me feel small, like a tiny leaflet of an enormous tree.

Nothing was really fair with my family. I had to do what I was told without asking questions. Being a girl, I simply had to obey; I think my mother never really realized that she was also a woman, the so called "weak sex." She had yelled at me, "make yourself useful! Go pick him up at the trail!" So there I was, waiting for a man I had seen once greedily staring at my boobs and who apparently knew something about healing and shots and pills. But he was no doctor. My brother had been sick for days, but we lived in such a remote place that it was unthinkable to transport him anywhere near or far.

I had started to get pins and needles in my feet and legs from my squatting position, when I heard a strange sound, almost inaudible, yet clear to my ears. I looked around. The trees swung to the rhythm of the howling of the wind and on the other side of the trail, about ten feet away, I saw the figure of a man, erect and motionless. I instantly got goosebumps and my stomach twitched so abruptly that I almost needed to vomit. We stared at each other for a moment that felt like years. My horse neighed impatiently, forcing me to react. So I slowly stood up, still staring at his black silhouette, and then rapidly got on my horse. The saddle, though, was loose and I eventually found myself lying on the ground with a stiff neck and a sharp pain on my left arm and shoulder. When I looked for him, he was gone.

Difficulty I got on my horse again to have a better view. Nothing. I couldn't find him. I tried to calm my horse down by caressing its neck and crest. It was a relaxing, but fleeting moment. Then, from afar, I managed to see a black spot that grew bigger and bigger. First, I feared it was a bear, then I recognized the figure. It was sure that of a man on a horse that moved as if it was drunk. It came closer and closer, and a few minutes later, the black spot was standing in front of me. It was the man who was supposed to cure my brother.

"I had some troubles with the horse back there," he yelled at me. The rain was still so heavy that it distorted any other sound.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," I said trying to sound untroubled.

"You do know the way, huh? Is it too far from here?" He had come closer to me.

"No, it'll take us some twenty minutes if it's not too muddy uphill."

He was a hideous fat man with tiny hands and thick fingers. He had a yellow pointed tooth sticking out from the rest. And his horse smelled like fresh breeze compared to his stench. There was something about his look that made me shudder, that made me uneasy.

"Let's get going, otherwise, by the time we get there, he'll be dead!" I said, immediately realizing that what I had said sounded cold and unnatural.

"But can you ride now? Don't you need to rest a bit?" His voice was deep and faltering.

"With this great weather do you really think I wanna rest here? My brother is sick. We have to get going." I answered annoyed.

"Well... you had a pretty bad fall. How's the neck sweetheart? You want me to check your shoulder?" He sounded pleased. "See, saddles should always be kept tight. You're an experienced rider, you should know better."

I suddenly became speechless and numb with fear. I tried to say something, but I couldn't get my lips to move. I wanted to leave him there, escape with my horse, but it couldn't move either. I noticed that he was taking something from his black bag. He was so close to me that I felt dizzy and invaded. Finally, I gave a little shriek as I noticed the needle of his injection penetrating my skin. By the time I saw the empty syringe hit the ground, I could feel his repugnant hand on my thigh, carefully approaching my groin. The horses were too close; they were becoming impatient. I had waited in vain. All my life...living in vain. My mother was right; I should've been a man.