MANUEL was drunk as usual. He had been an alcoholic from the tender age of 14. He worked as a handyman. Anything you wanted to be fixed he would be the man to call. He fixed toilets, septic tanks, broken furniture, clearing vegetation and any and all other things when needed.

When he started drinking he knew no bounds. He just drank and drank. The man had imbibed every known brand of liquor available in the country. His rum of choice, however, was El-Dorado.

That night he helped himself to a large quantity of liquor. He started off on vodka then finished off on rum. He was well and truly drunk by the time he decided to go home. Getting home that night would be a big challenge for him.

Manuel started off for home bravely but unsteadily. He negotiated the busy public road by hugging the corner (shoulder) of the roadway. When he reached Jacksonville Plains he lurched onto the sideline dam. His feet felt like a sponge and the road was constantly moving around. He lumbered on steadfastly. Up ahead someone was heading towards the back of the village. Company, he thought. Drunk and wobbly he hurried to catch up.

His obstinate feet seemed unwilling to aid him in achieving his objective. The harder he tried the more difficult the task seemed. The person in front of him seemed always just out of reach. Pausing, he dug into his pocket and refuelled with a long swallow of rum. He put the bottle back into his pocket and tried once more to catch up. He failed again.

Manuel looked with annoyance and suspicion at the moving figure. Something was not adding up. The woman-a fact he had just realised- moved slowly and smoothly. Her movement seemed effortless. Yet try as he may he could not reach her. When he drew within a few yards of her he made a rather big blunder.

“Hold up sweetie,” he cooed.

The woman stopped but did not turn around. He caught up to her and stooped, hands on knees, trying to catch his breath. It was while he had his head down gulping in huge breaths of air that he noticed her feet or lack thereof.

The woman had no feet. He looked with terror-filled eyes as she moved slowly forward. She was essentially floating on air. He had done the same on several occasions but even in those drunken moments he always had his feet to fall off of….. This was more than he was able to cope with sober or plastered.

“He…H…Hey You!” he shouted.

The moving creature stopped. Before he could curb his intoxicated tongue, he made an even bigger blunder.“Wait fo me na!”
Zoom.

The creature had vanished. He stared at the empty road ahead of him. Suddenly a cold jet of air caressed the nape of his neck. He spun around and fell backwards in horror. The mysterious figure was standing there, arms reaching for him. Her smile resembled that of a crocodile in one horrifying way. She had rows of spikey vicious looking teeth; big teeth.

Manuel moved from a half-bent posture to a stumbling run then into overdrive. In his haste, he abandoned his old sneakers. He skipped, floated and flew away at top speed, feet barely touching the ground. There were pungent rum fumes in his wake as if he was using liquor to fuel his overworked engine. And he was. Manuel was moving so fast that he almost passed his home. He screamed in desperation for his wife.

“Beverly! Beverly! Open de door, Jumbie out hey!”

A tired looking Beverly flung the door open and declared in frustration.
“Is only one Jumbie I see outside- a Rum Jumbie!”

With that, she stormed back to bed locking the bedroom door behind her. Manuel was forced to sleep on the couch. There he dreamt of floating women and running rum bottles. When he awoke the next morning his sneakers were placed neatly beside the chair. Manuel shamelessly passed out cold.