The moon was full over the Senegal coast. The Yumboes, silver-skinned fairies, were having a feast. Moonlight Banquet. They set out calabashes of couscous and fish, dancing on the sand.
A dark shadow emerged from the jungle. A Pisacha. It was an Indian demon of decay, smelling of old graves. It had black skin and burning red eyes.
"Welcome, stranger!" the Yumboes chimed, extending a plate of food.
The Appetite
The Pisacha stared at the food. It swatted the plate away. Flesh-Sap.
It grabbed the arm of the nearest Yumbo.
"I eat vitality," the Pisacha rasped. "Not carbohydrates."
The Yumbo shrieked as its silver skin turned gray. The demon began to drain its life force.
The Retreat
The other Yumboes panicked. They threw sand. They danced frantically. But their magic was of joy and light; they had no weapons for a creature of absolute entropy.
Silvery Vanish.
With a collective pop, the Yumboes disappeared, teleporting back to their underground Pne-Pne hills. They left their feast behind. Usually, a vanished guest is rude. But the Pisacha didn't care. It sat at the abandoned table, devouring the rotting fish with gusto, perfectly happy to dine alone.