An Uninvited Visitor

Amana knew she had seen the strange white man. She had been sitting by the window when she saw him come up the main road through the village. The man had piqued her curiosity. He had clearly been from far away, with his fair skin, light hair, and piercing blue eyes. Amana had only ever seen one other man like him, Peter, who lived far out in the rain forest in a hut by himself. Amana lingered by the window, fascinated by someone like Peter. She remembered straining to watch him as he moved on, ignoring the scorching afternoon sun on her dark hair and the dust that floated up to her eyes. She had watched as the man began attracting attention from the other villagers, and saw him casually lift the hood of his mottled green and brown cloak over his head, completely obscuring his face. Amana had beaconed her mother to the window excitedly, pointing to the man.

“He is white, with blue eyes,” she remembered shouting to her mother. “He must be from very far away!”

“I wonder why he has come,” her mother murmured, although Amana had been able to tell she was interested. Amana and her mother leaned far out the window, watching as he ambled down the dirt road. She saw him walk over to a village man and say something. They had seen him carefully lift the hood from his face, which was brown, like any of the villagers.

“Another one of your stories!” Amana’s mother had exclaimed, swatting her playfully. “I should have known it was your imagination!”

Now Amana squinted at the man. He had smooth brown skin, with dark eyes and hair. Amana guessed him to be thirty or forty, but he had an ageless quality, making it hard to guess. But she was sure he had been white only minutes before. Mother is right, Amana thought, I do have an imagination. But even I couldn’t have imagined that, could I?


Len lifted the hood from his face. “Hello, I’m looking for a friend, I believe he lives in these parts, just off the village.” He spoke the native language impeccably.

The villager nodded. “Not many people live further in the forest than this. There are trails leading to the homes, although it’s easy to get lost. I wouldn’t suggest venturing into the jungle, especially so soon before dark .”

Len smiled. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. The entrance to the trails will be later down this road?”

“If you insist, yes, the entrance to the main trail is just down the road. You can’t miss it. But really, you are totally unprepared, you should not go into the jungle unless you are properly equipped and familiar with the area. What do you know about the forest here?”

“Nothing. But I assure you, I’ll be fine,” Len said. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” the villager muttered, clearly not assured. He watched Len walk away down the road. The villager shook his head and muttered to himself in disapproval. A hike through the rainforest would take at least several hours, and by then it would be dark. The forest was dangerous enough as it was, nobody could possibly be stupid enough to venture into it after dark.

Len had been running for hours, but his breathing was still even and controlled, and he was barely sweating despite the suffocating heat. He nimbly leapt over protruding roots and vines creeping across the narrow path. Vegetation crowded every spare inch and exotic flowers bloomed with their full splendor, the humid air heavy with their perfume. Len chopped through the jungle, swinging a machete with super-human strength as he ran. The forest fell away beneath his blade, the machete slicing easily through thick plants. Tropical birds screeched somewhere high in the canopy, and predators growled from the gathering shadows. Soon the light would completely disappear, plunging the jungle into complete black. Len had hoped to reach his destination before night, but soon he realized that being trapped in the dark was inevitable. Len was not familiar with the forest. He would have to explore all the trails, comb through the entire jungle, until he found his friend, Peter, and his hut, one identical to all the others in the village. Len picked up the pace, his mottled green and brown cloak swishing silently against his muscular legs as his feet flew over the uneven terrain. Len squinted through the masses of thick, swirling fog that had begun to collect around the tree trunks and treacherous underfoot, obscuring the path’s twisting turns and the poisonous snakes lurking in the gloom. Len knew the hut was somewhere in the forest, and once he was close to his target, nothing could stop him, not even the prospect of spending the night in the untamed depths of the rainforest.


WHACK. Peter was jolted from his daydream, and almost fell off his chair with surprise. He sat tense, his eyes darting around the dark room for a moment, before he settled back into the chair.

WHACK. Peter nervously began to stroke his huge beard. It was nearly the middle of the night, what could be making such a racket? Peter decided it must be an animal, prowling about the jungle.

WHACK. Peter jumped and slowly turned around, peering cautiously at the door of his hut. He gripped the edge of the chair, his knuckles white and his fingers slightly trembling. Someone was definitely knocking. It was a knock Peter could never forget, no matter how hard he tried. It haunted him everywhere, from the back of his conscience and in his dreams, the four signature raps on his door, whichever door that may be. Peter had owned a collection of different doors, different houses, different disguises, all in an attempt to escape. But no matter where he hid, he was always found again. Please don’t let there be a fourth knock, he prayed silently, please.

WHACK. Peter cringed. Maybe it isn’t him, Peter thought hopefully, maybe it’s someone else who just happens to knock four times. But Peter knew he was only making excuses. He sat in the dark, on the edge of his chair, clenching his jaw. Only silence was behind the door now. Maybe he’s gone now, or maybe it never was him, Peter thought frantically, grabbing for anything other than what he knew to be the truth. Peter knew it was him, that he was waiting outside, waiting for Peter. Peter seriously considered not answering the door, but eventually got up and reluctantly reached for the doorknob, chanting under his breath, “please don’t be Thirun. Please don’t be Thirun. Please don’t be Thirun.”

Peter opened the door and looked down at the man on his doorstep. He was completely hidden by a green and brown cloak that blended in with the shadows of the dark rainforest around him. “Who are you?” Peter asked, then winced. His accent was horrible; the language spoken in the nearby village was not his first.

“Good to see you too, Peter,” the man replied in English, stepping into the hut and flicking back his hood to reveal blond hair and sharp blue eyes, which immediately began to sweep the room, evaluating it.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t pretend. I can recognize you behind that beard as easily as you can recognize me in this attire. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew it was me before opening the door.”

Peter sighed. “What can I do for you, Thirun?”

“First,” Thirun said, “call me Len.”

“Len?”

“Yes. More incognito.” Len smiled mysteriously in a way Peter always found creepy.

“But if I’m such a good friend, why don’t I get to call you by your real name?” Peter said, clearly mocking Len.

“Friends. So finally you admit it. And may I remind you what else friends do? They help each other out in times of need.” Len grinned at him, seeing he’d won. Again. Len had once really been Peter’s friend, which was now Peter’s greatest regret.

Len sat down, propped his feet up on the table, and began cleaning under his nails with a knife. “Now back to the subject of what you can do for me. I need to stay here for thirty minutes, then I’ll be on my way.”

“That’s it?” Peter said in astonishment. “Just a safe place to stay?”

Len chuckled. “No where’s safe, Peter.”

“Len, I assure you, my home is completely safe. It’s a hut in the middle of the rain forest! Nobody could ever find us here!” Peter said, exasperated.

Len looked up from his nails. “I found you,” he said with a smirk.

There was a pause. Both men watched each other, Len looking squarely into Peter’s deep brown eyes, which were narrowed with suspicion and peering from the depths of his beard. “How did you find me?” Peter asked.

Len’s smirk grew to a creepy grin. “This hiding place was better than the rest, I’ll admit. I was especially impressed to see you’d chosen a place where I wouldn’t fit in, so I would have trouble sneaking up on you unnoticed. And it was a bit of a challenge, I did attract the attention of the villagers. One girl in particular, almost fell out the window watching me walk by. But I have my ways.”

Peter shuddered. He hoped Len hadn’t noticed. Peter was desperate to escape Len, but no matter where he hid, it was only a matter of time heard Len’s knock on his new door, the four loud raps. Len would always show up again, looking for another favor, and with a new name. Peter always gave Len what he wanted, and Len would go. Despite all the things Peter did for Len, he never received anything in return. Years would go by and Peter would hear nothing of Len, not until he wanted something else.

Peter sighed. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe there’s a reason I keep disappearing?”

“Of course. And speaking of attempted disappearances, I see you’ve grown a beard in effort to hide from me.” Len’s cruel blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “You do look a little different, I’ll give you some credit.”

“Look Len, why do you keep coming to me? And why should I do things for you? What do you ever do for me?” Peter’s patience was thinning.

“I am your friend, in return, I give you my friendship,” Len said, smiling.

“If you were my friend, you’d give me payment I actually want.”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe. That’s all you were ever worried about.”

Len was still smiling, but Peter could see the cold behind his eyes and hear the hardness creeping into his voice. Peter knew Len was still angry about his betrayal. Peter had never considered it betrayal, but he knew he had let go of their friendship, and broken a part of Len that day. Peter remembered the tears that had streamed down his face as he begged his only friend to stay, to stay away from the danger. “I need you,” Peter had wailed. “If you really did need me, you would come with me,” Len had hissed, only inches from Peter’s face. But Peter had refused to be dragged into Len’s mysterious world. This boy was not his eccentric, quirky friend, but a creature Peter no longer recognized, one with blazing blue eyes and a terrible voice. It was that night that Len asked for his first favor. “Call me Tropic,” he had whispered. “They said to call me Tropic.” Peter had watched through the tears as his best friend, the person he had loved and trusted more than anyone, turned his back. That was the boy Peter needed, not Tropic. A boy Peter lost forever, along with part of himself.

“Look Len,” Peter said, losing his patience. “I don’t want a part in whatever it is you do. I just want you to leave me, stop coming back. What is it you even do anyways? You never would tell me.”

“What do I do?” Len repeated, his eyes burning with the old pain. “Only what you were too scared to do yourself.” With that he silently stepped away from the table and slipped out the door, not even pausing to say thank you. Peter watched him disappear into the night with overwhelming relief, but also an aching sadness he would carry forever.