SPICE
Robert A Webster
Darkness will settle on the people of Cambodia
There will be houses, but no people in them.
Roads, but no travellers
Barbarians with no religion will rule the land.
Blood will run so deep as to touch the belly of the elephant.
Only the deaf and the mute will survive.
Ancient Cambodian Prophecy
SPICE
Written by Robert A Webster
Copyright © Robert A. Webster 2014
Cover design © Robert A Webster 2019
Revised edition 2020
All Rights Reserved.
The author or authors assert their moral right under the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author or authors of this work. Thank you for respecting the work of this author
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Table of Contents
-Chapter One-
Fear and Loathing
Rotha peered out of the hut’s doorway. She smiled, pushed strands of black hair behind her ears, went down the wooden steps, and over to her sons. “Ravuth, you and your brother go get the *tror bek for supper,” she said.
The teenager looked up from where he and his younger brother sat playing and groaned.
“Now, Ravuth,” said his mother, wagging her finger.
“Okay, come on Oun,” said Ravuth standing, and holding his brother’s hand they headed towards the jungle.
The air felt humid and Ravuth wiped his arm across his moist forehead. He turned back towards the village and looked up at the Cardamom Mountains. “I wish I was a bird and could fly above the mountains, it would be cool up there,” he said, smiling at Oun.
The year was 1975, and unbeknownst to the secluded village, Cambodia was in turmoil. The country was at the end of a war but the beginning of a nightmare, leading to a period of genocide affecting every Cambodian.
Pearls of perspiration now trickled down Ravuth’s face. The sores on his hands stung pitilessly as the salt in his sweat rubbed against the worn handle of his machete. Once again, he lifted his aching arm and hacked into the foliage. His thirst raged and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, but he had to keep going for the sake of his younger brother.
“We’re lost, aren’t we Ravuth?” The fear in Oun’s voice made it tremble.
Ravuth glanced back at the small dirty face behind him. It was his fault they’re lost, and should never have wandered off the trail. His mother told him repeatedly never to leave the recognised paths, but he thought he knew better.
The boys knew the jungle surrounding their secluded village where their family had lived for generations, living off the diverse plants and animals found around their jungle domain. Collecting fruits and vegetables from the jungle was a daily task that the teenage Ravuth and his younger brother, Oun, had carried out for years. The route was always the same. However, today the boys decided to explore and maybe discover a new area that may contain more vegetables.
Ravuth and Oun had been roaming around lost for over an hour in this dense, unforgiving undergrowth. With his last ounce of energy, Ravuth hacked through a thick vine and the two boys emerged into a glade. Ravuth smiled, “We’ll be fine,” he said with a jauntiness he didn’t feel. “We can rest here and then retrace our steps.”
“Look at that Ravuth,” said Oun, pointing to a strange plant nestling between small rocky
