The Outsider

       By Sama Khawaja

My name is Malcolm Malestorm, behavior analysist extraordinaire. Haven’t heard of me? Remember the novel ‘Big Foot Meets She Foot’? The one that became a worldwide bestseller? I don’t think I need to go any further to say who the author is.

My field of study is not taken up by many. It is not easy to cover as it is quite extensive and complicated. Hence I am considered an expert in this area.

My job is to reveal the truth about tribes and species that go unnoticed in the world. Mankind sees them, acknowledges their existence  but fails to understand their way of life. That’s where I come in. I feel it is my duty to analyze these creatures and create a window for mankind to reach out to them. After all, it’s the least I can do.

I have discovered a new breed just on the edge of the West Coast. They are unlike any species I have ever seen. They dress peculiarly, eat bizarrely and even talk in a tongue I have yet to come across. They will be my new project. Scientists have yet to decipher their way of life and if I am able to crack the code, I will be recognized globally; perhaps even getting the chance to meet the President of USA. I must do it.

I am lucky to have access to one of their kind. I have already observed them from a distance but today, I will follow one of them and try to collect as much information as I can. But they must not know that I am following them otherwise who knows how they will react. They might not be so flattered to be studied so intently. So I must remain incognito in my research.

I have managed to infiltrate one of their habitats. It is a wasteland with trash and bizarre objects cluttered everywhere. But the creature is unperturbed by it. Perhaps it is used to being surrounded by mountains of useless junk. Or perhaps it is because it spends most of its time worshipping. These creatures are very devout worshippers f their God. They are constantly standing before it, staring intently as if hoping to receive a revelation of some sort. They always perform a ritual in front of their God in which they apply all sorts of paints on their body parts and adorn their skin with glittering ornaments. Some even paint their hair different hues! But I have yet to see their God. All I know is that it is hidden in a flat plane board they have propped up in their homes. Someday, I will venture out and see what their God looks like. But not today. Today I focus on them and their pattern on a normal day.

I am lucky for the one I am studying seem to be preparing for a special occasion. It had slathered on a horde of paint on its face that you can barely tell if it’s still its face. It then changes into a special attire which reveals most of its skin and body. It stuffs its pouch with weapons and stalks out of its home. I should be more cautious in following it for it might notice me. I trail it to a huge gathering where it meets not only its own kind but another larger and tougher species. My heart palpitates. I have stumbled across a battle between two species and I can be in grave danger!

But they do not attack each other immediately though. They just gibber in an incoherent language for at least an hour. It is then that I realize that this not a battleground but a mating zone. My specimen has paired up with one of the other and is uttering high-pitched squeals, probably to attract the other. The other grunts and fondles its hair. Finally, as if satisfied, the two embrace as if sealing a bond. My specimen squeals and rushes to its tribe, tittering away. The others join its chant and start to drift away to my subjects abode. Curious, I follow, determined to know what they will do next.

These creatures are bent on performing rituals for everything for right now, they are preparing for one. A few have gone to worship their God, applying dyes to their lips and mated specimen. Another has begun to play a beat from a strange instrument that is emitting a warbled chanting. Everyone else has joined in the chanting now. The sound is so piercing I am surprised my ears haven’t begun to bleed yet.

While still singing, they each take a goblet of a jet black liquid that is foaming at the top and sip it in unison. One of them utter a sentence, a prayer perhaps, and the others scream in mirth. Perhaps I can understand their language if I am a bit closer. I carefully crawl across the littered floor when some object stings my palm. I cry out in pain and realize that I had been stabbed by one of their body ornaments they leaving lying around as booby traps. But that isn’t the worst part. They have heard me.

Their heads turn so suddenly in my direction that I gasp in fright. My body has broken into a sweat and my heart has leapt into my throat. They look angry and have spring to their feet as if preparing to attack. I don’t know whether I will live or die. Perhaps this might be the end for Malcolm Malestorm, prestigious behavior analysist; winner of the Pulitzer Prize; author of the number one bestseller ‘Big Foot Meets-’

‘Malcolm, what are you doing in my room?’ Clarisse snaps, her eyes narrowing. ‘Are you spying on me again?’

‘Your little brother can be so abnormal, Clarisse,’ Jessica comments with a roll of her eyes as she applies eyeliner while looking in the mirror.

‘Tell me about it! Mom! Can you please tell Malcolm to stop sneaking around my room! I have to get ready for my date with Jeremy!’