The day that the Creature arrived in the village happened to be the hottest of the year. The children got iced treats after school, the parents took their fans to work and the elders did even less than usual. By the time the day was reaching its end and the children and parents were returning home to the elders, it was apparent that something in the village had changed. The cause of this atmospheric change would not be discovered until sunset, when Mr Phayni went out to help his mother with her evening shower. 

Mr Phayni hated intruders. He liked his family, if ‘like’ can be used in relative terms. Perhaps what should be said is that Mr Phayni had learnt to tolerate his family in a way that he would never be able to tolerate outsiders; but whether he liked them or not, family had always been his priority. His father had taught him that a strong man is one who can care for his family, protect them and make sure no harm comes to them. Mr Phayni was glad to find that he could do this and was glad to have his strength confirmed, but his fear of an intruder into the family unit never waned. 

Mr Phayni put his youngest daughter to bed that night. He reminded her to never sleep with her hands in between her knees, otherwise the Thin Throat Spirits would come to the house when everyone was asleep and disrupt all the harmony. He drew the mosquito net over the door, then he left. He walked across the compound to his mother’s hut and this was when he noticed the Creature. At first, he thought that perhaps unseen, strange kinds of animals came out in this kind of heat. Then he considered that the heat had made him delirious. Then he considered how, since the fall of the sun, the temperature had dropped so that the heat could have nothing to do with it.

​

“What are you?” Mr Phayni asked.

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The Creature said nothing. Mr Phayni thought that he could see its eyes staring back at him just as intently as he was staring at it. 

“I hate intruders.”

 

The Creature said nothing. It stood, grounded in the soil, inches above Mr Phayni. It seemed neither threatened nor threatening.

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When Mr Phayni got to his mother’s hut, he said, “There is a creature outside,” and half expected her to help him approach the situation. Mrs Phayni was, however, a semi- responsive ninety-two-year old woman with little capability in her limbs and even less capability in her senses. She looked up at him, cross-legged on the rattan mat, and said, “Why don’t you invite him in?” Mr Phayni hated intruders and had by now made up his mind that his mother’s shower would have to wait, after all, this was an opportunity to heroically protect his family in a way that he had not done before. He pulled back the mosquito net and went outside with a large neon fly-catcher high in his right hand, prepared to take a stance, defend the safety of his family and the harmony of his home.

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But the Creature was gone. 

*

That same night just a few hours later, Mrs Chokhlang was cutting up some limes to put under the shrine outside her hut. As she did this, she spoke to her husband Mr Chokhlang who had died a year earlier. She told him about her day, about how hot it had been, and how she had made his favourite fish for her evening meal. She carried on speaking as she took the small bowl of limes outside but stopped when she saw the Creature. Mrs Chokhlang then surprised herself for feeling no urge to run or scream, but rather intuitively stepped closer as it stood in her quiet compound. 

“What are you?” Mrs Chokhlang asked.

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The Creature said nothing. It had no human face as such and yet she thought that it looked sad, melancholy, lonely.