Oh Damballah, kreyatè nan lavi yo.
Muri bellys yo nan pitit fi yo nan Ev.
Avèk pitit pitit an koulèv la nwa nan Damballah.
Ak pouvwa yo kreye nouvo lavi sèvi ou.
Oh Damballah, kreyatè nan lavi yo.
He did not speak Creole, but he had memorized the chant since his father had taught it to him fifty years ago and his father's father before him and so on back to Phineas Long, son of a white woman and a black slave, a black slave that had cursed the county.
The man stroked his cock faster, praying that it could maintain an erection. At 65, erections were a rare treat. Not that he had anyone to use his rare erections with, he'd been widowed for twelve years. His beloved wife had been nearly infertile, but his high sperm count had provided them with but one child and that had been a daughter and his daughter had born him one granddaughter. Women had their own powers and in many ways were more powerful than men, but this was cock and seed magic which required a male. He had no son or grandson to teach the summoning spell to, but if all went well, there would be no need for the spell after tonight. The wind whipped around the old oak tree and the lit black spirit candle he had placed at the trunk blew out. He cursed, but continued masturbating. He glanced over at city hall, the old Cox plantation, and for a split second swore he could see the image of a hanged man's shadow swaying on the wall of the old building.
The old man felt his erection growing floppy. He cursed again, squeezing the base of his cock to harden it, praying to Damballah that he would not let his ancestors down. His mind wandered back fifty years earlier to the last time, he'd jerked off under the old oak tree.
His father Wayne had led him the many miles from nigger town to City hall through the dark of night. They'd kept to the shadows for black men wandering the town at night were always looked upon with suspicion even as they still were today. The night had been similar, pitch black, thunder in the distance, but the rain hadn't been as hard. The boy watched his father pull his hard foot long black cock out of his overalls. He jerked it to hardness before spitting in his hand and starting to jerk it off. Beneath the oak, was a lit spirit candle, a tar baby doll with a rope noose around it's neck, and some chicken bones. His father stared at the items as he jerked off. A gust of wind blew the candle out. Wayne hissed at his son, "Light it, boy." The boy took the candle and moved behind the tree to shelter it from the wind. He struck a match futilely. Each man was so intent on the tasks, that neither saw the police cruiser until the headlights fell on Wayne. The siren sounded, startling them both. "Finish this," shouted his father as the boy ran and jumped behind some bushes before the police could see him.
"Freeze you perverted nigger," shouted the Sheriff as he and his deputy ran out of the police car and tackled Wayne. Wayne offered no resistance, but the two policemen beat him half a dozen times with their nightsticks. "Look at this shit, sheriff," called the deputy. "The boy is some kind a witch." The sheriff looked at the items under the tree. "You a witch boy? You workin' with da devil, nigger?" The sheriff hit Wayne once again for good measure. The two cops, cuffed Wayne and dragged his limp body into the police cruiser, before driving off the short distance to the station.
Wayne's son crept out from the bushes once the coast was clear. He still held the candle. He lit it and sat it down at the base of the tree. The police had taken the tar baby, but left the bones. The boy pulled his cock out from his worn old trousers. It was bigger then his fathers, half again as long, a freak of nature. He was but fifteen years of age and his cock was an eighteen inch monstrosity. His deformity had made the local paper when he was born. The baby with three legs screamed one headline. It didn't take much to make his huge black phallus hard, nor did he need to masturbate long to cum. The boys huge balls emptied their sperm all over the grass beneath the tree. He hadn't finished cumming, when there was a huge thunderclap above him, a flash, and a large branch fell from the tree just as he was lifted and thrown several feet away. The boy sat up dazed, shaking his head. Every hair on his body stood up from his skin. Fog was rising up from the ground where his sperm had struck. The fog spread, billowing outward, unnaturally engulfing everything in it's path. It caressed then surrounded his body. The boy smiled as the fog embraced him. He smiled during the long walk home and was still smiling the next day. The smile didn't leave his face until the policemen knocked on his door to inform his mother Elsie, that his father had died from a concussion suffered while resisting arrest for public indecency.
The old man wasn't smiling tonight. He was struggling to cum. So different from the rock hard cock he'd had as a teenager and a young man. Twenty years ago the erections had started becoming fewer and fewer, his cock losing some of it's steel, growing floppy even in the middle of sex. His wife had actually been somewhat relieved.. Finally, he felt the sperm welling up in his old balls. He was straining as rain ran down his face and dripped from his white mustache. Finally, it blew. The old man hadn't cum in years and it looked like he was blowing a years worth of semen. Never in his long life had an orgasm felt so good. Sperm fanned outwards from his floppy old cock, covering the grass beneath the old oak tree. His legs grew weak from the strain. Just as he fell to his knees, the lightning struck the tree. This time it didn't take just a branch. It shattered the tree just feet from the old man. He felt several large splinters penetrate his skin causing him to wince with pain. "I did it, father," he whispered. "Damballah, creator of life, the rainbow serpent. I did it."
The old man felt pain shoot up and down his left arm as he struggled to his feet and he feared this was the end. Just as it had fifty years earlier, fog was rising from the ground where his sperm had struck it. The fog had awakened a dormant gene in the women of Coxville causing all the prepubescent girls and females babies born since to develop large full bosoms. The fog a 100 years earlir after Phineas Long ejaculated on it had awakened a dormant gene in the black men of the county causing the penises to reach their full potential. The fog 150 years ago had cursed the county when the slave Prospero Black, the embodiment of Zombi Damballah had ejaculated in death as he was hanged from this very oak when the residents of the Coxville plantation had lynched him for copulating with Phineas Cox's two daughters, the innocent and beautiful, Betty and Samantha Cox.
This fog would change everything.
The pain in his arm grew worse. He clutched his heart struggling not to fall back to the wet ground. He didn't even have the strength to pull his trousers back up. What would the Coxville Times' headline say when he was found dead here in the morning? He watched the fog billow outwards, expecting his heart to burst at any moment and he was ready to die, for tonight he had fulfilled his family's destiny.
The fog reached out to touch him and the pain stopped. His heart rate returned to normal. He sobbed with joy that Damballah had gifted him with more time on his earth. But that was not Damballah's only gift. The fog caressed then embraced his limply hanging penis. He felt his penis extend and grow as blood flowed into it and it took a lot of blood to swell a cock as big as his. The touch of the cold fog ran up and down his cock, almost as if it were masturbating him. His erections hadn't been this hard and strong in years. The old man looked down on his erection with pride, even as his penis and soon entire body disappeared into the fog.
Willie Long, the principal of Coxville High, threw back his head so that the rain struck his face and laughed.
**********
No one else was out on this rain soaked night to witness the massive bolt of lightning that blasted the old oak tree to ruin at precisely midnight. The resulting thunder woke citizens of Coxville from their sleep and shook the foundations of many an old home.
The fog spread out around the town hall slowly moving down Main Street. It spread out engulfing the entire town, creeping into open windows and touching every living thing. Within an hour the fog had spread to the surrounding developments, past Coxville High School, the African American neighborhood of Westside, and up the nearby hill on which the ancient Sisters of Mercy Convent sat. After several more hours, the fog was engulfing the smaller towns, farms, and the city of Coxburg even moving across Lake Cox. By dawn the entire county was shrouded in fog.
**********
September 25, 2009: The night when the shadow man came into the dreams of the sleeping women of Coxville. The day of the big game between the Coxville Cocks and the Bartown Beavers. The day that changed everything.
**********
Todd and Kitty had barely made it back inside the porch when the loud clap of thunder rattled the walls of the house. Some of the girls screamed and the partying teenagers laughed nervously. It was preciously midnight.
