The Kite | Cursed Story | Podcast

A death curse is like a landmine you've stepped on, there's just no way to escape unscathed. Carl Jacobi's work "The Kite" is mentioned in several sources. It was first published in 1937 and is also known under the variant title "Satan's Kite". 

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:28):
From the macabre minds of Laughing Devil production comes another
story from the night Shade Diary. You know what that means.
Check under the bed and make sure no one or
nothing is there. Is the closet door securely shut. Then
leave your disbelief behind, amp up your imagination and hang

(00:49):
on tight for another ride into terror and mystery. And
like all good horror stories, just imagine it's a dark
and stormy night, and remember screaming like a little girl
is permitted. The kite by Carol Jacobi. Tuesday, being Christmas,

(01:18):
I slept late, worked until noon on my paper for
the Batavia Medical Journal, and headed for the waterfront to
arrange passage on the next KPM boat for Singapore. It
was the anniversary of my six years practice and Samarinda
and I was glad to be leaving Borneo for good.
I returned to my quarters in the European District and

(01:41):
began immediately the long job of packing. At two p m. Suddenly,
and without warning, a strange nervousness seized me. At the
very moment the last strokes of the clock died into silence,
A nameless fear swept in my brain, quickening my pulse
I lay no claim to being psychic. Indeed, as a

(02:03):
man in my profession, naturally would I have always found
upon anything suggesting the supernatural. But I have learned by
past experience that such a feeling as I now experienced
invariably presage some black event, some tragedy within my own
circle of acquaintanceship. A quarter of an hour later I

(02:24):
received the strange message from Corlin. The message was delivered
by a Cantonese boy, and it read as follows, Dear
Doctor van Ruler, since Alice was to see you last,
her illness, which you diagnosed as a touch of fever,
has grown steadily worse. If you can possibly make the
trip up river before you leave Samarinda, I would be

(02:47):
much indebted to you. I must warn you of one thing, however,
if you do come and you see a kite flying
over the jungle near my place, on your life, make
no attempt to pull it down. Faithfully, Edward Corlin. I
read that letter twice before I looked up. I hadn't

(03:08):
known Cordlin long. A year ago he had wandered down
from British North Borneo, where he had held the post
of Conservator Forests. Following him on a later steamer had
come his lovely wife Alice and his daughter Fay. There
were ugly stories about Corlin. Rumor had it that the
British government had requested his resignation after his cruelty to

(03:31):
the Diax had caused a native outbreak in one of
the forest reserves. Shortly after his arrival in Samarinda, the
man took over an old rust house a short distance
up the Mahacam River. There he had made his home,
and there his wife and daughter were forced to accept
the loneliness and the jungle with him. As the Cantonese

(03:53):
boy stood there, I felt a strong desire to refuse
the call. Frankly, I didn't like Corlan. But what I
didn't understand was the mention of the kite Kung Chow,
I said, for I had spoken to Corlan's voice several
times before. Have the Dyaks in your district taken over
the Malay practice of kaflying kites? The boy shook his head.

(04:18):
The Malays are doing it? Then, no malaise there only
one dayak village. You come, I hesitated, Yes, I'll come,
I said, at length. Have your boatmen and sampound ready
in half an hour, I'll meet you at the river Jetty.
My usual procedure during a trip up river is to

(04:40):
sit back in the shade of the thatch combin, puff
a pipe, and to wait until the chanting dyaks pull
the sampound to my destination. To day, however, I squatted
tents in the bow under the hot sun and gazed
at the steaming shores for two hours. Nothing happened. Then,

(05:01):
as we approached the last turn before Corlan's place, Kang
Chow pointed up into the sky, said, see kite, big kite.
The kite was there, and I could see it clearly
from the river. There was nothing strange about it, an
enormous cross fashioned of two pieces of bamboo and red

(05:22):
rice paper, the tail cut to resemble a dragon. But
suddenly I caught the sunlight at a new angle, and
I gave a sharp exclamation. The line which held the
kite was not native hemp but wire, copper wire. I
could see it glinting like a slender string of gold.

(05:43):
The wire slanted down from the sky and disappeared in
the jungle in shore. Kang Chow I snapped in shore
minutes before I was fighting my way through the bush
fighting off a horde of insects the wire, and it
abruptly at a large palapatrie. It was wound several times
around the bowl and spliced. What was a kite doing here,

(06:07):
flying with a human guidance, a native kite, and yet
held down by white men's wire. Troubled? I headed back
for the sampan. Ten minutes later, the boat slipped till
mooring beside the Corlin wharf, and I've followed kanchild to
the clearing and the house. Corlin met me at the door,
shook his hands and ushered me into the center room.

(06:30):
Glad you could make it, doctor, he said, it's been
hell waiting to see if you'd come. Alice is in
the back room. My daughter Faye is attending her. How
is the patient, I asked, she's no better? Corlin replied,
I've kept her dosed with quinnan as you suggested, but
it isn't fever that's troubling her. It's in God's name. Doctor.

(06:53):
Did you see the kite? I stared at the man.
Corlan was hawk faced, with the little pig eyes and
a skin insect bitten from years in the tropics. But
something was troubling him. Perhaps she had better look her
over first, he said. He led the way to a
room in the beer. It was a small chamber with

(07:13):
a single bed, the windows, shutters partially closed, and a definite,
smothering odor of sickness. Corlan's wife lay motionless on the bed,
and a chair by her side sat the daughter Fay.
I felt the woman's pulse, took her temperature. The heart
action was rapid, but the thermometer showed below normal. Abruptly,

(07:34):
Corlan stepped forward and drew me to the window. He
pointed out into the sky. Look, he whispered, hoarsely. Do
you see it? My gaze followed his hand, and again
I saw that kite. It was still as high, but
much closer, blown by the rising wind. The red rice

(07:55):
paper glowed like a fierce spot against the blue. Yes,
I see it, I said, But what Corlan snapped at
me before I could finish. I want you to watch
that kite, van Ruler, keep looking staring upward. I felt
my own heart begin to hammer in my throat. Now
fill her pulse and keep watching that kite, Corlan directed.

(08:18):
He lit a cigarette with shaking hands and leaned against
the wall for a long time. I kept my hand
pressed to the limp wrist while I watched the kite
motionless high over the jungle. Abruptly, the dragon tail sagged
in a slackening of the wind, and the kite settled
fifty feet downward. I whirled to the woman in the bed.

(08:42):
Her breath was coming in short gasps, her pulse was
only a feeble flutter. But even as I ripped up
in my case and reached for a capsule of amyl nitrate,
the sinking spell past the heart returned her normal Outside,
the kite was leaping, climbing like a frightened bird to
new altitudes, but it was a quarter of an hour

(09:04):
before I realized the hideous significance of it. With shaking fingers,
I gave the woman a Joseph strychnine. Stepping to the door,
motioned Corlan to follow. Back in the central room, I
poured myself a glass of whiskey and face the ex
conservator across the table. Corlan, I said, trying to control
my voice. I've been in Borneo six years. I've treated

(09:28):
everything from yellow jack to the bite of Amhammadryad, but
I never came upon anything like this before. It's it's good, Lord,
it is impossible. I'm not crazy. Then Corland drummed his fingers.
You saw, I saw, I replied. And impossible as it
may sound, it's true. In some unholy way, your wife's

(09:52):
physical condition is linked with the movements of that kite.
When the kite is stationary or climbing, her pls as normal.
But the moment the thing begins to fall, her heart
slows and death is close. How long has it been there?
Since yesterday afternoon, Corlin replied, I noticed it shortly after

(10:14):
Alice became so weak she was forced to bed. The
first thought that came to me was to pull the
kite down. I tried it, and I almost killed her.
Went over to that tree and began to pull it
in slowly. Faye was the fire revolver. The moment she
noticed any l effect, a shot came almost at once.

(10:36):
He paced over to me, and Heaven's name, what are
we up against? I moved towards another doorway leading into
a side chamber. Inside I could see several cases in
a array of curious objects on the wall. Show me
your collection, I said, at length. Perhaps it will give
me time to think. Corlin's collection was well known through

(10:57):
the district gathering. It had been as intense interest for
many years. The man turned his head, now called caang
choo here, damn you chop chop. The Cantonese boy came
on the run, surmised Corland's orders, quickly drew the shades
in the other room. Someone broke in here a couple
of nights ago, Corland said, tried to steal my things,

(11:20):
fired a shot at a sneak, but I missed. Most
of Corlan's collections was borneo stuff from the deep interior.
There was also articles from Java, the celebs, and China.
I saw prangus, low pipes and pottery. But my eyes
lingered on a case in a corner, within which was
an enormous piece of crimson silk. That silk is pure

(11:44):
Tibetan work. Corland said, noting, my interest comes from the
forbidden Temple of po yon Quan, the headquarters of the
Nephet sect, a North Indian. When I obtained it, it
was adorning the Supreme Fire altar in what was known
as the Sacred Flame Room. I to be frank. I

(12:05):
climbed up an outer wall, sneaked through an non barred window,
and lifted it when the priests were sleeping. You stole it,
I exclaimed. Corland nodded. One has to do such things
if he's going to have a collection. The silk has
some mystic significance to its Tibetan the priest called it
the cloth the fire God, and all the terrors of

(12:27):
seven hells are supposed to follow anyone who defiles it.
The beauty of the peace is the dragon design in
the center. I don't know for sure, but I understand
all sorts of evil, obscene rights have been practiced in
its name. This is the least understood religion of Asia.
It is steeped in black magic. And I stepped closer

(12:50):
and examined the cloth. The lower right corner ended in
a ragged edge where a section had been torn off.
The thief who broke in here detach, Corland snarled. I
surprised him before he could rip it completely out of
the case, and he got away into darkness. What is it? Faye?
The conservator's daughter had into the room. Her face was

(13:12):
white as lime. Quick, doctor, she cried, my mother in
tense strides. I was into the room, but the moment
I knelt at the woman's side. I realized she was
beyond human aid. There was practically no pulse. An instant later,
the death rattle sounded. Alice Corlin was dead, still holding
the lifeless wrist. I looked through the window up into

(13:34):
the sky, my eyes filled with horror even as I
watched the kite slowly settle downward. It fell into the
jungle and disappeared. Impatient as I was to leave Samrinda,
the curious facts surrounding the death of Alice Corlin led
me to postpone my departure. My certificate attributed her death

(13:56):
to congest of malarial fever, but I knew only two well.
The cause went deeper than that. I had the kite.
River Dykes, near Corlan's house had brought it to me
in returned for a quantity of tobacco. It was made
of bamboo sticks and rice paper, as I had suspected,
but glued to the surface was a small remnant of

(14:17):
red silk, a fragment from Corland's fire god altarcloth. Exactly
a week later, Corlan came to my quarters. He injured
my veranda and faced me with haggard eyes Van Ruhler.
He said, there's another kite. What I cried, He nodded,
exactly like the first, same size, same color, same kind

(14:41):
of wire. It's been up two days now, but it
seems to disappear each night, and my daughter fay it
isn't affecting her too. A feeding of helpless horror swept
over me. Corlan clunched a Swiss, not physically the way
it did Alice, but mentally, something unspeakably evil is slowly
claiming her soul. By this time I was tense with excitement,

(15:06):
dislike Corlan I did, but the events combined to draw
me on with a hypnotic attraction. I told Corlan I'd
go up river in an hour. It had rained during
the night, and as we paddled up the Mahakam the
sky was a leprous gray again. Kang Chao sat stiffly

(15:26):
in the stern, directing the dyke boatman. The kite came
into view, and almost identically the same spot I had
seen its predecessor. I watched it until the sampan thumped
against the wharf, but I made no comment. A moment
later in the house I came upon fake Corlan. She
sat in a chair in the center of the room,

(15:47):
rigid eyes fixed ahead. There was a drawn look of
terror in her face. Her lips were white. For five minutes,
I spoke to her soothingly, she did not respond. Instead,
and without warning, she leaped to her feet, gave a
choking cry. Then, like a lifeless thing, she slumped to
the floor. Even as I bent over her, I knew

(16:09):
my worst fears were realized. The kite was working again,
but this time I had no intention of standing by
without intervention. The girl's physical condition was linked with the
movement of that kite. Impossible as it seemed, I knew
that was true. The kite could not be pulled down
or Fake Corlin would die. It must be destroyed. In

(16:32):
mid air, I seized my medicine case and ran out.
I dashed along the jungle path and down to the jetty.
I leaped into the sampan and paddled furiously for the
opposite shore. Overhead, low bellied storm clouds or racing in
from the horizon. The sky to the east was the
sickly green following the copper wire, I reached the far

(16:53):
bank and plunged into the bush. The fire was fastened
to the same palapac tree. I opened my case and
fell to work. From one compartment, I drew forth a
quantity of pyro oloxin, spread it before me. Forty grams
of pyroloxin mixed with either ether or alcohol mixed colidion,

(17:17):
which is useful in treating small wounds by pyroxlin, is
nothing more than gun cotton. I had in my case
also a brass tube capped at both ends to carry matches.
Tearing off the caps, I inserted the gun cotton. Next
room an inner pocket. I drew forth a large piece
of paper, then ripped free my watch chain. You've seen

(17:42):
a boy send a message up a kite string driven
upward by the wind. I was doing much the same thing,
only my message was a charge of inflammable gun cotton.
The slightest charge of lightning from the oncoming storm would
be sufficient to ignite the pyrolloxin and destroy the kite
in mid air. I refastened the wire to the tree again,

(18:03):
then threaded the paper up the wire. As I worked,
the storm raced nearer. The kite rode high above the
undulating roof of the jungle. I released it. For a moment.
The message hung motionless, then with a low humm, it
began to mount upward along the wire. I rushed back
to the sandpan and paddled back across the river. Back

(18:26):
in the house, I found Faye unconscious on the cot
in the collection room, where Corlin had carried her. At
the far side of the room, peering out the window,
stood the Cantonese boy Kang Chow. I waited, one hand
clamped to the girl's wrists, and knelt there. Corlan paced
back and forth across the room. If he saw Kang Chow,

(18:47):
he gave no sign. The room was half masted in shadows.
In the corner of the crimson silk, the fire god
cloth from the Thaibed temple shone luridly in his bamboo case.
Its scarlet surface seemed enlarged a hundred times. The storm
drew nearer. From out of the east, a blacker cloud

(19:07):
raced over the jungle, and then, knifing down, a jagged
fork of lightning shot toward the kite. A roar of
thunder trembled the very piles of the house. Five seconds later,
a sheet of flame burst out into the sky, high
above the open window. The fire swept down the dragon
tail like a devouring monster, and the wire dropped earthward

(19:28):
like a writhing snake. The kite was gone instantly, A
violent tremor shot through the stricken girl. A gas came
to her lips. The pulse became a pounding hammer. Then
the beats slowed to normal, and I leaned back with
a cry of exultation. But at that instant any thought
of success was thrust from my mind. A muffled cry

(19:49):
from Kang Chow spun me around. The cantonese voice stood rigid,
eyes fastened on the crimson silk in the case beside him,
and it was that silk that held my own gaze
even as I watched. A streamer of smoke appeared over
the design of the fire God. A tongue of flames
shot outward. Corlin whirled one instant. He stood motionless. Then

(20:13):
the door of the case shot open, as slowly a
fraction of an inch at a time. The flaming silk
began to move outward of its own accord without supported
mood lifted into the air, began to float across the
room relentlessly. It closed in on Corlin. The Conservator's face
was ashen. He tried to turn, but seemed riveted to

(20:34):
the spot horrified. I watched the flaming silk lessened the
intervening distance. Then with a final jerk, it leaped forward.
The burning mass dropped over Corlan's head, tightened like a shroud.
I swear I was powerless to move for an instant.
I vow some outer power prevented me from taking a
single step. Screaming hideously, Corlin fell to the floor. A

(20:58):
curtain of smoke rolled over him. Into my nostrils, swept
the odor of burning flesh. I broke the spell then
and ran forward. I snatched at the cloth with both hands.
I resisted all efforts. I seized aver tan rug, attempted
to smother the flames, but the fire only flared higher.
At last, Corlan's hands flailed wildly in the last death agony.

(21:21):
He sank downward and lay still. Fake. Corland left summer
Rinda on the twenty ninth of January. My own passage
to Singaporn, thence to home was scheduled for a week later,
but kind child disappeared. I might have explained the Cantonese
boy partoned the death of Edward Corlin to the Dutch authorities,
or I might have asked for an inquest and testified

(21:42):
to all that I knew. Yet somehow those facts, if
brought to light in a colonial court of law, would
have seemed even more impossible. I can offset the whole
thing by cataloging a few of my subsequent findings. There was,
for example, the can of petrol, which I discovered under
Coorlan's house. There was the spool of wire, a section

(22:04):
of which had been stretched across the collection room, presumably
as a supporting line for bamboo curtain. Such a wire
might conceivably have served as a track for the floating
flaming silk. And there was my own knowledge that the
Chinese will sacrifice anything to attain the proper theatrical effect.

(22:25):
For Kang Choo, as was later revealed, was not a
Cantonese coolie. He was a Tibetan, a former priest of
the forbidden temple of Po Yung Kwan, from which the
cloth of the Fire God had been stolen. And yet
there was the kite, the death of Corlan's wife, and
the strange effect on the life of the daughter Fey.

(22:46):
Perhaps it was fever that caused these things, but I
do not think so.