The Hyena People

"Take me hard," Cecilia squealed, and I smiled and smacked her ass, and then replaced my tongue and fingers with something much, much bigger. Taking some oil from a bottle, I smeared it on Cecilia's butt and then pressed my dick against her hole. Slowly, I pushed myself inside, and Cecilia tensed and then relaxed her butt muscles as I worked my way into her asshole. Just like that, I gripped Cecilia's wide hips and began to fuck her. Our screams of passion mingled and echoed through the air. We fucked and sucked until It was a beautiful night...

When Cecilia and I woke up, we awakened to a brand new world. 1804 was here, and Jean-Jacques Dessalines received a special message from the French High Command, and it was announced to our legion that the French colonial forces had surrendered. After years of struggle, the Haitian people defeated their former masters and established the first independent Black republic in the New World. Against all odds, we'd actually won!

"We have won, my love," I whispered into Cecilia's ear, and we stood by, watching as Dessalines and the French officials signed the papers, as anxious Haitian soldiers and tired French colonial servicemen watched. This was a defining moment in world history, the moment when a group of Black men and Black women proved to the universe that racism and imperialism aren't invincible.

"I'm glad we won, my sweet, but now I must tell you that I am soon to depart," Cecilia said, and I stared at her, astonished. Cecilia gently touched my face, then kissed me on the lips. I couldn't believe what she'd just said. Even if the French colonial forces were withdrawing from the island of Saint Domingue, which Dessalines renamed the Republic of Haiti, I still needed her. The war was far from over. We had to be vigilant...

"What do you mean?" I asked, and Cecilia flashed me a sad smile and explained her decision to me. Even in all the years that passed, I hadn't forgotten Cecilia's words. I marveled at her. The beautiful West African woman who changed my life, showed me the meaning of true love, turned me into a Were-Hyena and gave me a mission and a fight. I couldn't believe that she was about to leave me. I refused to even consider it, I was that young, arrogant and naïve back then...

"Marcelin, you are a new and strong Bultungin, you have many centuries of life left in you, I am but an old woman, I was already old long before the first Arabs came to West Africa and tried to enslave my people, the Mandinka people of West Africa, and my pack and I fought them and drove them off, let me return to my homeland while you watch over yours," Cecilia said, smiling serenely at me. I nodded sagely and embraced her. I did not want to let go. I loved her very much. Still, what choice did I have?

Cecilia did not leave right away. Indeed, she remained on the island of Saint Domingue until 1807. One day, she left on a boat, and did not return. I do not know if she made it through the blockade that the French placed around the island of Haiti. They formed a massive containment grid around the Haitian motherland, preventing us from traveling to other nearby islands, lest we 'infect' the local slaves with our ideas of freedom and independence...

What became of my beloved Cecilia? I honestly do not know. I never saw her again, not in all the centuries that passed. In time, the French blockade was lifted, and the people of Haiti were free to enter and leave their homeland as they pleased. I made a few more Bultungin after my Cecilia left, and that was a mistake. The dozens I made turned into hundreds, which soon became thousands. There were internecine wars among them, and I kept away from my supernatural brethren for this reason.

I left the island of Haiti in the summer of 1977, emboldened by the progressive ideas about civil rights and racial equality which were sweeping not only the United States of America but also Canada and the United Kingdom. I lived in the U.S. under an assumed identity, and learned much about this fascinating country and its complex, unique people. I studied at various colleges and universities, for I'd always been fond of lifelong learning.

Eventually, I returned to the island of Haiti, to my hometown of Cap-Haitien. Posing as the son of wealthy Haitian-American Diaspora returning to the motherland, I began working as a professor of world history at Universite Notre Dame Du Perpetuel Secours, a most unique school dedicated to educating the minds of young black men. It's like Morehouse College in the City of Atlanta, Georgia, only much bigger. At last, I found the place where I belonged. The place where I can still make a difference. It's good to be home!