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The corpse hangs beneath the tree.

Not buried.

Not sleeping.

Waiting.

The moon touches its skin,

but the thing inside it

does not belong to the flesh.

A traveler approaches.

Sword at his side.

Promise in his heart.

He lifts the body.

Then laughter comes

from a mouth that should know only silence.

“Before you carry me away,”

the dead man says,

“answer one question.”

The traveler continues walking.

The forest listens.

A story begins.

A king.

A murderer.

A promise.

A betrayal.

A question with no simple answer.

The traveler knows the rule.

If he knows the answer

and refuses to speak,

his head will break.

If he speaks,

the creature will escape.

So he answers.

The corpse laughs.

It leaves his shoulder.

And once again

the Vetala hangs beneath the tree.

The traveler returns.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Perhaps immortality is not always eternal youth.

Perhaps sometimes immortality

is an endless conversation

between the living and the dead.

The Western vampire asks:

“May I drink your blood?”

The Vetala asks something stranger:

“Do you understand human nature?”

Kings die.

Empires disappear.

Bodies become dust.

But questions survive.

Who is guilty?

Who is innocent?

What is justice?

What is loyalty?

What would you sacrifice?

And what happens

when the dead understand humanity

better than the living?

At dawn,

the traveler reaches the tree once more.

The corpse is waiting.

Its eyes open.

Its smile returns.

“One more story,”

it whispers.

The traveler lifts it onto his shoulders.

Some monsters hunt the body.

Some hunt the soul.

And some simply wait

until a human being reveals

what kind of person

he truly is.

— PauloAlves

Folklore basis: Inspired by the Vetala of Indian tradition and the famous cycle of tales commonly known as Vetala Panchavimshati. Vetalas are not identical to Western vampires; they are supernatural beings strongly associated with corpses, possession and liminal spaces. This poem is original fiction inspired by that tradition.