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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2154743-Who-Do-Voodoo
by Fangus
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2154743
Revenge is sweet, but it can quickly turn sour if you're not careful!


It’s those drums, she thought. Those Goddamn drums!

Ginger had hardly slept at all for the last five nights, ever since she came back from her trip to the Philippines with her now ex-boyfriend, Amado. It was his idea to visit his homeland, and she foolishly decided to go with him. Now she couldn’t close her eyes without hearing those damn islanders beating their drums somewhere out there in that deep dark jungle, the sounds still pounding inside her skull!

They were only on the island for three days, but it was three days too many as far as Ginger was concerned. Amado told her they’d be staying in some swanky hotel in the heart of Manila, but once they arrived they found out their hotel had lost their reservations and didn’t have any vacancies left; they had to rent a room on the outskirts of the city. And when they tried to rent a car, the only thing they had available was an old ’72 Volkswagen Beetle; pregnant roller skates, Ginger’s father used to call them. By the time they got back to the states, she knew Amado wasn’t who she thought he was, and she decided to end their 4 month relationship.

Ginger sat up in bed and switched on the lamp on her nightstand. Her gaze slowly went to her desk top, where the one souvenir she came back with was sitting: an ‘official’ Philippine voodoo doll she purchased for $10. She wasn’t really superstitious, but she still bought it behind Amado’s back to save any embarrassment. Now it seemed to be staring at her, and a shrewd idea slowly began materializing in her head.

She remembered an old shirt Amado left here one night, and more out of curiosity than real vengeance, she went to her dresser and fished it out. It was much too big for the doll, of course, so she cut part of a sleeve off and fashioned a smaller version of a shirt for the doll. It was crude, yes, but if there really was anything to this voodoo magic, then maybe it could work.

Sadly though, it was Ginger’s bad luck that Amado knew the difference between an ‘official’ voodoo doll and the real thing. Because at the same time she was pushing a needle into her doll’s leg, he didn’t feel a thing. But a few seconds later it was Ginger who was screaming in horror as she watched her clothes, then her hair, then her entire body suddenly burst into flames.

It was a quick and merciful death though, since Amado had the foresight to soak his real doll in lighter fluid first. Sitting on his porch by the light of a full moon, he dropped the doll into a metal pail and watched it gradually turn to ash.

Blowing your money on that $10 doll wasn’t the smartest thing you could have done. And dumping me wasn’t too bright either!

Who do voodoo?

Not you, my love.

Not you...

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