Here is the continuation of the previous story if you haven’t read part -I then please go through it so that it makes sense…
Part-II
The chilling silence that followed the Penanggalan’s departure was more terrifying than the screams. Talib lay on the floorboards, his parang clattering beside him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could still smell the creature’s putrid stench, a mix of blood and decay that clung to the air like a shroud. He pushed himself up, his old bones aching, and stumbled towards Raniโs bed.Rani was unconscious, her skin pale and clammy. The wounds where the Penanggalanโs entrails had pierced her flesh were gruesome, but thankfully, they weren’t fatal. He knew he had to get her to a bomoh, a traditional healer, as quickly as possible.He rushed out of the house, ignoring the lingering fear that whispered in the shadows, and ran towards the village center, shouting for help.
The villagers roused from their sleep, emerged from their homes, their faces etched with worry. They knew the legends, they knew the danger. And tonight, their fears had become a horrifying reality.News of the Penanggalanโs attack spread like wildfire through the village. Fear gripped the hearts of the women, especially those who were pregnant. They huddled together in their homes, clutching their bellies, praying for the dawn. The men, armed with parangs and sharpened bamboo poles, patrolled the streets, their eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of the creatureโs return.
Talib, along with several other villagers carried Rani to the bomohโs hut. The bomoh, an old woman with wise eyes and skilled hands examined Raniโs wounds, shaking her head sadly.
โThe Penanggalanโs hunger is insatiable,โ she murmured. โWe must protect the village.โ
The bomoh prepared a concoction of herbs and roots, chanting ancient incantations as she applied the poultice to Raniโs wounds. She also gave the villagers instructions on how to protect their homes, advising them to hang thorny branches and weave special charms from palm leaves to ward off the evil spirit.As the first rays of dawn painted the sky, a sense of fragile relief washed over the village. The Penanggalan, it was said, could only hunt at night. But they knew it would return. It always returned.The following nights were filled with anxiety and fear. The villagers kept watch, their nerves on edge, ready to defend themselves against the creature’s inevitable reappearance. They barred their windows, hung the protective charms, and kept fires burning throughout the night, hoping the light would deter the evil spirit.
Talib, despite his age, was always at the forefront of the villageโs defense. He felt a deep responsibility for what had happened to Rani, a guilt that gnawed at his conscience. He knew the Penanggalan was a threat to everyone, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was somehow responsible.One night, as the moon hung heavy in the sky, casting long, eerie shadows across the village, the Penanggalan returned. Its chilling shriek echoed through the night, sending shivers down the spines of the villagers. It attacked again, targeting another pregnant woman. But this time, the villagers were ready.They fought back with courage and determination, using their parangs and bamboo poles to fend off the creatureโs attacks. They managed to wound it, severing more of its entrails, but they couldn’t kill it. The Penanggalan, enraged and weakened, retreated into the darkness, vowing revenge.
The attacks continued for several weeks, each one leaving the village more traumatized and fearful. The villagers knew they couldn’t live in constant fear, always waiting for the next attack. They needed to find a way to stop the Penanggalan once and for all.Talib, remembering an old legend, suggested they seek the help of a powerful shaman who lived deep in the jungle. The shaman, it was said, possessed the knowledge and power to banish evil spirits.A group of villagers, including Talib, embarked on a perilous journey into the heart of the jungle, seeking the shaman’s help. After days of trekking through dense foliage and treacherous terrain, they finally found the shaman’s secluded dwelling.
The shaman, a wizened old man with piercing eyes, listened to their story, nodding slowly. He told them that the only way to truly defeat the Penanggalan was to find its body, the part of it that remained vulnerable and human. Only then could they destroy the creature forever.The villagers returned to the village, their hearts filled with a renewed sense of hope. They knew the task ahead would be dangerous, but they were determined to rid their village of the Penanggalanโs terror. They searched every house, every nook and cranny, until they finally found it โ the Penanggalanโs body, hidden in a secret room beneath Raniโs house.They destroyed the body, burning it to ashes, and with it, the Penanggalanโs power. The attacks ceased, and the village was finally free from the curse that had haunted it for so long. The scent of frangipani no longer brought fear, but instead, a reminder of the courage and resilience of the villagers who had faced their nightmare and emerged victorious.
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