MIDDAY IS FOR THE DEAD

In that village, 12 noon was not normal. It was dangerous. It was death time.

Every child knows this:
"When sun is straight up, sky opens its eye. Don't go outside."

At exactly noon, everywhere becomes silent. Too silent.
Dogs lie down flat and hide their heads. They shake and whine low.
Even the flies stop flying. They drop dead on the ground.
If you are outside, you will change. Your back will break. You will grow hair. You will fall and walk on four legs. You will become an animal.

Lizzy knows this. Everybody knows.
But her baby does not know.

It is her first baby. The weather is very hot. The air is burning.
Lizzy has not slept for three days. She is very tired. Her eyes are red and heavy.
She sits on the mat and closes her eyes for one minute. Just one minute.
She leaves the door open for air.

Outside, sun moves to the middle of the sky. Straight up, hot and angry.

Inside, baby wakes up. She does not cry.
She sees the bright light on the floor.
She starts to crawl. Quiet. Slow.

She crawls to the light. To the door. To the mouth of the sun.

Lizzy wakes up. She looks at the mat.
Mat is empty. Baby is gone. Cold sweat covers her body.

Old Nikki shouts from the other room: "LIZZY! NOON! NOON IS HERE! YOUR BABY!"

The big clock hit twelve times. Very loud. Each hit shakes the walls.
The light becomes very white and hot. Like fire on the floor.

Lizzy runs to the door. But light is fast.
Her baby is already at the door.
One hand inside the dark room.
The other hand outside in the hot sun. Already inside the curse.

And the hand outside starts to change.

Fingers join together. Black hair grows fast. Thick, rough hair.
The baby tries to cry, but sound is not human.

Lizzy screams loud. She pulls baby inside.
She closes door. She falls on hot floor .
She holds baby very tight. Too tight, with shaking hands.

After some minutes, sun moves. Air moves again. Dogs start to bark. Loud and scared. Neighbors come inside. Running.

Lizzy sits in corner. She rocks baby. She sings and cries.

The thing in her hand became hot.

She looked down, under the cloth.

The legs were not normal.
They were bent backwards. The knees were facing the wrong way.

They were goat legs. Covered in black hair. With small, hard hooves.

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