L. Diablo

Esto puede o puede no haber pasado

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I’ve been asked by many if I believe the things I write; If I am really that dark and disturbed.
Yes actually, I am. I believe in everything I write. I believe in evil as much as I believe in good. Sometimes, maybe more. Some would say that’s the pessimist in me. I’ll like to believe it’s the realist in me
Is the darkness because of the absence of light or is the light an absence of darkness?
I asked myself this as I walked down the road after grocery shopping at Morrisons. My mind was occupied and that was why I didn’t notice him. It took a hand restraining my foot to break me out of my reverie. I was startled. I turned and stared angrily at the hobo holding me. Seeing that he had gotten my attention, he smiled at me and I shook my head, signalling the fact that I had no coin to spare. I was about to move on when he made a remark that stopped me in my tracks.
“I know the answer to your question” he said and flashed his toothy grin, affording me the chance to count his sparse teeth if I was inclined to. I was too busy being surprised.

“What is my question?” I asked him and he laughed.
“You just asked a question like Nebuchadnezzar. He wanted to know what his dream meant but instead, he asked the charlatans to tell him what he dreamt about. He wanted to be sure they were real.”
He laughed again.
“I will tell you your question. You want to know which us greater: Light or Darkness. You want to know which came first.”
I was shocked. “How…”
“Did I know that?”
I nodded slowly.
“I’m wise, perhaps. I’m a guru maybe. Now let me ask you a question. How did you think I knew that?”
I was stumped. I really had no idea how he did that. Maybe I was talking loudly to myself. I tend to do that sometimes.
“No, you weren’t talking loudly” he said and barked in laughter at the look of surprise on my face.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked, curious and a little scared at the same time.
He smiled and offered me his dirty hand for a shake. Against my better judgement I took it and shook.
“O Weird one, as you call yourself on Twitter” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, “I am Heilel ben Shakhar”
“Heilel…ben? Are you Jewish? A rabbi?”
He laughed again. I couldn’t help but smile. He had a funny laugh. At this point, I turned around and noticed some people were staring covertly at us, probably wondering what I was doing, talking to a vagrant. I became shy.
“Ignore them” he said, standing up. “And no, I’m not Jewish even though my name does sound rather lovely in that tongue.”
“So what are you then?” I asked.
He leaned on the wall, until we were at eye level.
“The Greeks would call me Eosphorus. Venus in some translation. English, Son of the morning star. You know me as Lucifer”
I chuckled.
“Come on now! You want me to believe you’re the devil? Or your parents really named you Lucifer?” I asked my voice ripe with derision.
“The former. More or less. And I can prove it.” he grinned.
I couldn’t help myself.
“Prove it”
He smiled.
“Give me a moment. I’ll pop into the store to freshen up. This look gets tiring sometimes.”

And that was how I stood, waiting for a hobo who just piqued my interest to exit the store. I watched the crowd pass by, smiling in my head at the ridiculous dressing of one lady I was sure was Jamaican. I quickly checked the time on my phone. It was getting late. I had to cook too.
“Man shall not live by bread alone” a smooth voice whispered beside me. For the second time that day, I startled.
“Umm…do I know you Sir?” I asked, looking in askance at the handsome man beside me. He laughed.
“How many times would I introduce myself to you Weirdo?”
“Oh…”
My jaw was unhinged. “…Wow.”
“I know” he said smiling, “I clean up well”
Well was an understatement.
He was freshly shaven, looking dapper in a clean-cut suit with cufflinks made purely out of stones I was sure were diamonds. Oh and he had perfect, white teeth.
This was terribly odd.
I suddenly became nervous.
“I…I think I should be going..”
His brows furrowed. “You’re really weird aren’t you? Many people would never stop to talk to a hobo. You did. Many people would talk and suck up to me when I’m like this, and you won’t.” he shook his head.
“I’m…I’m…it’s better I go…”
He touched my arm.
“Don’t you want to know the answer to your question? Don’t you want to see if I’m really Lucifer?”
I was torn between curiosity and caution.
“Please. I will bring you back in record time.”
“Will you really?”
He put his hand on his chest. “Scout’s honour”
He grinned. I smiled back tentatively.
“Fiiine…”
He smiled widely.
“Transportation awaits” and without waiting for my response, took my hand and marched me to the car park. I could feel stares as we walked.
One too many women stared enviously at us.
He marched me to a long black car, waiting. He opened the back door and allowed me to get in before he did.
“A limo. Really.” I muttered. I’m not a fan of big cars.
He laughed. “Well, I love the bar” he said, pointing to the revolving rack of bottles.
“Nice”
He chuckled in agreement whilst leaning over to fetch a bottle and two glasses.
“Your preferred poison” he said, showing me the Jack Daniels he held.
He was right.
He poured us drinks and added some ice to his.
“None in mine please”
I like it straight.
He handed me a glass and sat down. He took a sip and grimaced slightly.
“You don’t like it” I remarked.
“Not my favourite I admit. Too…dry. I’m a wine guy.”
“The Devil is a wine guy. You whiner” I murmured and laughed softly to myself. He watched me from the rim of his glass.
“You’re not drinking”
“Oh”
I took a sip, gurgling it a little in my throat. Fantastic. I drained my cup.
“It’s my kind of stuff”
“I noticed” he said dryly.
He refilled my glass.
“So…” I started.
“So…”
I laughed. “This is weird you know”
He smiled genially. “I can tell.”
I nodded “You sure can tell a lot”
It was his turn to laugh. “For example, i can tell you’re bursting to ask questions but you don’t know how to start”
I nodded ” True.”
He spread his hands. “Go on”
“Number one. Are you really who you say you are? Like really?”
“If I told you something about yourself would you believe me?”
“Mhmm”
He nodded.
“You were 8 when your nanny held you up to the ceiling and threw you down”
My chest spasmed a little in remembrance.
“Right.” I paused. “So you might be who you say you are.”
“O ye of little faith” he murmured and I grinned.
“Question two. Why the whole theatrics with the hobo dressing?”
He guffawed.
“Theatrics you say!”
I waited patiently until he had gathered himself.
“Well, I enjoy studying humanity, uninterrupted. What better way to do that than by looking like a beggar? No one really takes note of us. Many try hard to stay away from us.”
“So…you beg just to study people. Interesting.” I drained my glass again and he refilled.
“So, you said you could answer my question…”
“Ah yes!” he dropped his half empty glass, stretched his legs out and hooked his hand at the back of his head.
“Darkness and Light are two different entities. Darkness is in fact older than light. It is not good, neither is it evil. It is pure.”
“Pure?”
“Yes. Pure. Complete. Absolute. And that is why I like it.”
“So which is more superior?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “My opinion is subjective. So is the opinion of the Maker. I’ll say Darkness. He’ll say Light.”
I nodded. “I see…”
I looked out of the window, watching life pass by.
“Why did you pick me?” I turned back to him.
His eyes locked with mine. “Pick you? You don’t believe this was a chance meeting? A random occurrence?”
I raised an eyebrow, sceptical.
He chuckled “Fine. It wasn’t random. I’ve watched you for quite a while. You sometimes drop some coins into my tin cup. You’ll always smile slightly. Like you find something amusing. I was…intrigued”
I nodded. “I see.”
“Do you?”
I found the question odd.
“You know you have ‘worshippers’” I said. “The Satanists. Do you also have these kind of meetings with them?”
He chuckled. “Oh them. Well why would I?”
Eyebrow raised again. “Why indeed. They believe in you…amongst other things…”
He nodded. “That they do. And that is why they don’t need me.”
“Oh?”
“Oh”
“And you think I somehow need you?”
He smiled. “You do. You will. It’s your type that interest me. The ones that believe strongly in the Maker. I want to open your eyes to what He truly is.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “He is what He is.”
He laughed. “A very evasive way of introducing Himself. That’s Him for you.”
He shook his head and continued. “I am what I am. And you choose not to ask ‘What is it that you are?’ You just believe.”
“Is this your idea of a smear campaign?”
He raised his hands in mock defence. “No. No. Not smear. Just…Truth.”
I scoffed. “You’re one to talk about the Truth. Prince of Liars. Accuser.”
He smiled, taking no offence. “Now that my dear, is the smear campaign used against me.”
“I see” I muttered sarcastically.
“You don’t”
“Huh?”
“You don’t see. You assume you see but you don’t. If you saw, you’ll probably be mad by now”
He grinned widely.
Something about the quality of his smile unnerved me.
Lucifer or not, this man was dangerous.
I swallowed.
“Yeah. Sure.”
He paused for a beat.
“Do you want to see?”
“See what?”
He spread his hands in an expansive gesture.
“See…Life. Truth.”
I thought about if and shook my head. We lapsed into silence. I could feel his unwavering stare on me and self-consciously, I kept my eyes outside.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere quiet. Cosy. We can talk there.”
I nodded.
I wasn’t familiar with the streets we passed and I made use of the tinted glasses to stare at pedestrians, unashamed. Most tried to peer in. I bet they were wondering what celebrity was in here.
I laughed out loud and turned to him.
“Sorry. I do that sometimes.”
He smiled. “Don’t we all.”
“You know…I have no idea what to call you. Lucifer san? Lucy? L?”
He shrugged. “Anything would do.”
I stared curiously at him.
“What is your real name?”
A glint entered his eyes. The unnerving look was back.
“Names have powers. Fearsome powers. I cannot tell you mine. For your sake.”
“My sake” I whispered.
“Yes.” The glint disappeared and his eyes shone in amusement. “I like Lucci. Like Gucci. Only better.”

Before I could comment on how lame that was, the car stopped.
“Where are we?”
“Merriot Hotel”
My mouth widened. “THE Merriot Hotel?”
He said nothing and stepped out of the car and motioned me to do the same.
“Leave your bags inside”
I stepped out, glancing curiously around me. This was a haunt for the affluent in the society. I was very certain we’ll be sent back. Well I would be. He looked the part of a successful man. I looked…drab.
Sensing my dilemma, he smiled kindly at me and took my hand in his. We walked to the door and I watched, astonished as the doorman bowed slightly to him. We walked into opulence.
I was fascinated by this new world.
Low, melodic music somewhere in the background, murmured. I spied a gang of Saudi princes, chatting over cups of coffee.
A concierge greeted him warmly, throwing me a brief, puzzled glance.
“Mr L. So glad to see you today. Same room?”
“Yes and thank you.”
The concierge gave a small bow and left. I turned to him.
“Mr L?”
He grinned. “L for Lucci”
I shook my head. “Do they know who you really are? Or profess to be?”
“Some do. I’ve had…business”
“Ah…I see” I whispered.
“You don’t” he whispered back.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
The concierge returned. “This way Sir, Madam.”
It took a second for me to realise he was referring to me as ‘Madam’.
I smiled sheepishly as I followed them into a small, stately room.
I sat an arm’s length away from him, and noticing this, he merely raised and eyebrow and rolled his eyes, mocking me.
Another man, a staff, came in.
Without waiting for him to speak, Mr. L turned to me.
“What would you have? Some wine perhaps?”
“Umm…” I shook my head. “Coffee would be fine.”
He raised his elegant eyebrows at me. “Coffee.”
He turned to the waiting man and I watched him as he ordered the waiter to do his bidding.

He was beautiful. Bronzed skin, hair jet black with white patches at the sides. His nose, slightly hooked, just the way I liked. His lips looked sinfully soft and had a wet sheen to them. Sinfully wet. I sniggered in my head. He finished talking to the waiter who left, then he turned to me.
“You really need to learn how to hide your thoughts”
His green eyes shone with mirth. I grinned.
“It just makes me wonder what you really look like.”
He grinned. “You don’t like this look?”
“Au contraire. It’s just that…” I paused. “You change looks. The curious part of me wonders what your true form is”
He leaned back into the sofa. “Same way you wondered what my true name was.”
I nodded.
“You should curb your curiosity” he said softly.
I raised an eyebrow in defiance. “Why? Is Curiosity a bad thing?”
“No. But it could lead you into paths…unfavourable.”
I laughed suddenly; snorting a little.
“What?” his voice, miffed.
“You’re funny. Are you warning me to be careful? I mean, aren’t you the Devil? You should be encouraging me to be wild and bad” I grinned widely.
“Oh” his lips pulled at the corners. “I like you”
“I like you too. Which I guess should be crazy, considering the fact that you’re evil and all”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do I look evil?”
The waiter came back with our drinks.
I whispered my thanks and waited till he was gone.
“Do I?”
He asked again.
I took a sip from my cup and daintily dropped it back on the saucer.
“No. Actually you don’t. But evil is in the heart isn’t it?”
He smiled. “Well answered. But is evil bad? Who made it bad? Why is it seen as bad?”
I was silent; thinking.
“Anything that hurts people in the long or short run is bad.”
“Oh? And how are we sure people don’t just feel hurt because they’ve been told to feel so?”
I grimaced. “That makes no sense. So someone who’s getting killed could as well feel good about dying?”
“You are all going to die anyway”
I shook my head. “No sense.”
A strand of hair dislodged from my bun and fell across my face. I pushed it back without thinking. It fell to my face again and muttering peevishly, I pushed it out.
He came to my side.
“Let me help with that”
I stayed still as he pinned my errant bun up. He was so close. He smelt…he smelt of all my favourite scents. Wet grass. Burning wood. My mum.
“Done” he whispered. He looked at me and smiled softly. I smiled back.
He remained where he was and  leaned back again, studying the ceiling. Our legs touched. I was very conscious of that.
“How old are you?” I blurted out. I needed to break the tension building inside me.
“How old is eternity?” he shot back at me.
I shrugged. “Dunno”
He looked at me.
“Come on. Talk.”
I bit my lip in thought.
The silence stretched for minutes. He wasn’t going to break it anytime soon.
“I think Eternity began when the universe was made. I cannot say how long that was. I’ve read that the Earth may have existed for over 400 million years. If that’s the case, and assuming other planets existed roughly at the same time before each other,  then…” I paused and frowned. “I’m rambling”
He shook his head. “No please. Continue.”
He was mocking me. It was written all over his face.
I felt hurt.
“Go to hell” I muttered.
“Apparently I will…eventually” he said and laughed. “Fine. I’m sorry.”
I threw him a nasty look and his grin widened.
“Stop sulking. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Yeah yeah”
“Age is such a mundane thing. I laughed because the years you mentioned were ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?”
“Yes, my curious one. Ridiculous. It’s like looking at me now and calling me a two-year old.”
I frowned. “So it’s older?”
He nodded. “You know the phrase ad infinutum?”
I nodded. “Without end”
“Yes. The universe began at the end of ad infinutum.”
I was lost. “Huh?”
He laughed.
I huffed. “You’re just messing with me. Give Science a couple of years and they’ll discover the exact number in years.”
He laughed harder.
“Science.” he said wistfully as he wiped his tears of mirth.
“Science was and is my brain child.”
I was puzzled. “Your brain child?”
“He grinned.”Yes. It’s fun to throw Scientists titbits of clues and watch them mule over it for years before coming up with half-assed theories.”
I looked at him. “You’re behind the idea that ‘There is no God’.”
He grinned and bowed. “None other. Fight the Power.”
I shook my head, smiling, part impressed.
“You devil.”
“I have a reputation to maintain.”
I shook my head and laughed. I was clearly out of my league with this man.
“Would you like to see?”
“See what?”
“Ad infinutum. How the universe began. The beginning of the stars. The  parts of Space Man hasn’t yet discovered…”
My eyes widened. “Are you for real?”
He nodded, eyes twinkling.
“That would be so awesome! Hell yeah!”
He held up a hand.
“First, you’ll have to let me in.”
“Let you in? Where?”
He tapped my head. “There.”
“Umm. Dude you’ve been reading my thoughts all day. You’ve been there and back.”
He smiled and shook his head.
“That was just a neat party trick. I didn’t really enter your mind. Your familiar fed me that information.”
“Huh? Familiar?”
“Yes. What the Ancient Egyptians called ‘Ka’. Your Ka is a spiritual copy of you. It knows everything about you. Well, almost. The part of you I want to access doesn’t come with your Ka. It’s yours alone. So you, dear, need to let me in.”
My brain whirled. “I have a spiritual doppelgänger who knows everything about me. Now if that isn’t creepy…”
He said nothing.
“If my Ka doesn’t have the part you want to access that means it’s special…sacred no?”
He nodded.
“Hmmm. And if I let you in…”
“We will be linked. You will share my memories. Fed slowly of course. I could show you so many things, my dear. I would blow your mind…literally if I’m not careful.”
“Show me many things…like the beginning of the world. The Host.”
“Yes.” he whispered.
“And after that?”
He drew closer to me and cupped my face in the palm of his hand.
“I become a part of you. I won’t take over.” He said softly “You can summon me when you need me. I could help you with knowledge.”
He ran his thumb lightly across my lips. “You yearn to know. Oh, the craving to learn. The insatiable need of yours to master; To dominate…” He blew air softly out of his lips, on mine. I shivered, eyes glazed. I leaned in closer.
“I could make you rich without even trying. Just…”
He stared into my eyes. I couldn’t look away. His head lowered towards mine.
My lips parted.
Yes.
Show me.
“Say it…” he whispered.
My mouth opened.

“..Um..”
A cough interrupted us and I snapped back to the present. I saw the split-second change in his eyes as he turned to look at the waiter who had interrupted us.
“Get out” he whispered, voice beyond cold and I shuddered, watching the waiter shake in terror, running.
I rubbed my face vigorously, trying to regain my balance.
What on Earth did I almost do?
I shook in revulsion and fear.
I got up.
“I want to go home”
He turned to me and for a second I didn’t breathe. His eyes were filmed over, red as blood. I swear I saw the  heat curl off his hair.
I whimpered and shrank away from him.
He closed his eyes and opened then, returning them back to normal.
He sighed.
“I’ve scared you. I’m sorry. Please. Sit.”
My legs were still shaky but I refused to sit. I cleared my throat.
“No. I need…to go now”
He must have known I wasn’t going to change my mind.
He sighed again and got up.
“Fine.”
He ushered me out of the room and I walked slowly, trying not to buckle until we were back inside the car.
He watched me, waiting for me to talk. I said nothing.
He sighed.
“You never responded to my proposal” he said softly.
“No”
“No, what?”
“No. You’re not welcome into me.” I didn’t look at him.
I heard him sigh again.
“You’d have said yes if he hadn’t interrupted. Wouldn’t you?”
I could feel the fierceness of his gaze in me. I kept my eyes down.
“Well, we’ll never know now will we?”
We lapsed back into silence.
“You could have everything you know. Every stinking thing. I know your heart desires. I can make them all come true.”
I sighed and looked at him.
“And when time ends, when the Earth is finished, where would you lead us to?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know”
I shook my head. “You know. And you know it’s not pleasant”
He said nothing.
“How many people have you given this proposal to?” I asked few minutes later.
He shrugged. “A lot”
I nodded. “How many refused?”
He paused. “I can count them with my fingers and still have some left.”
I nodded and kept quiet.
“The Maker you love doesn’t love you.” He whispered. “He doesn’t understand the concept of Love. He just needs obedient sheep who won’t question His every word. Would you remain subservient forever?”
I said nothing.
“At least with me you will know all. I won’t force you to do anything. I am benevolent. Hell, I appeal to your wild side. How long will you keep that side under lock and key?”
I kept quiet until the car rolled into the car park, where our journey began.
I knew he was angry. I could smell faint whiffs of sulphur.
“I’ll make life difficult for you until you accept me. You know that right?”
He smiled savagely.
I returned the smile, coldness for coldness.
“You’re a sore loser”
He growled.
I got out of the car, remembering to pick up my groceries. I heard the car zoom past me and I didn’t look back.
I didn’t also see the car that was trying to park where the limo just left. I just heard the screeching of brakes and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, staring at the sky, with a bruised back. A face came into my view.
An apologetic woman.
“Are you ok?”
She helped me up and I winced as I bent to pick up my fallen bags.
“Yes I’m ok. No, no ambulance.”
Maybe I needed the ambulance.
I mean, why was the sky so bright?
I had noticed it getting darker when we left the hotel.
I brought out my phone from my pocket and checked the time.
Impossible.
I turned and looked around.
I was on Earth alright.
I turned to the woman who was still looking worriedly at me.
“What’s the time please? Think the phone’s acting up.”
She checked her wristwatch.
“Ten past three.”
My phone wasn’t acting up. It was correct.
At ten past three, I was crossing the road to the other side, a few minutes before I met the hobo/devil.
“Mind fuckery” I whispered.
I waved at the lady and crossed the road in a daze, walking to the path where I encountered him as the Hoo.
My heart skipped.
There he was.
I walked on quickly, throwing glances at him.
He was asleep.
I could hear his snores.
“Maybe i just imagined it all.”
No, even I didn’t believe that .
“I think I’ve finally lost it” I whispered to myself as I walked on.
“No, no you haven’t” the sleeping man whispered and smiled, eyes still closed.
I didn’t hear him.

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Gothica

Hey! Hey!

Today’s post is for you lovers of Poetry/Written word/ Whatever you cool kids call it.
I’m known for my horrible attempts at Poetry so I’m always in awe of people who weave words so effortlessly. Today’s word weaver is a lovely poetess who chose my spot as a testing ground so to speak.
Ladies, Gentlemen, the rest of you, welcome @St_Gothica. (Yes, I named the post after her. I’m generous like that…or clueless.)

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A boiling pot, smouldering with rage;
The cold strike of a lightning flash;
Eyes staring, pushing
Against your wall.

The thankfulness on their behalf
That murder is a crime.
The urge to retreat into a corner
And avoid humanity.

Or go out, eyes and guns blazing,
To rid the earth of its greatest pest;
Its ever feeding parasite.

To commandeer the elements,
To burn and grip and bury and gulp,
To grind and slash till not quarks remain.

Or to build a fort of ice and stone,
Unaffected by the words and stares;
Impervious to the deeds and seeds,
Of discord and disdain and distaste.

 

SO EASY

“It would all too so easy.” I thought,
“To pick up the gun and fire a shot.
Or even more soothing and pleasant it’ll be
When I feel my life-blood drain out of me.
Or just a little pain I’ll have to endure
If I took some pills and passed out on the floor.”

All this my mind said to me,
Promises of peace wide as the sea.

But a little further,
My heart couldn’t but falter
At the thought of being forgotten in dust.

Then at that I thought,
“Oh I won’t be missed.
There’ll probably be something new,
By the time they sit in the pew.”

At this I take my leave
(The noose I have just wouldn’t give)
I wonder which of the verses would live….

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Do give her your thoughts on her words by commenting thanks!

Musing of a Stressed Out Somebody

Another day, another rant.
Been under enormous pressure lately and I really, really need to blow some steam off!
THIS IS A RANT!

So what am I going to rant about?
Men.
Some men are just foolish.
Most times, I imagine myself as a man (which isn’t hard to imagine ) and I know I can do better.
Do you know the ridiculous amount of money some guys spend on girls? That shit is disgusting!

Last year, people on twitter read the gist about the dude that splashed N1.5million on his girl and her friends.
On drinks.
Dem never chop o.
On drinks.
Do you know how many village girls you can marry and tamba for free with 1.5 milla? DO YOU??
Water no dey?
Wooz stron witchu!
It’s not as if at the end of the night he will tamba the girl plus her friends.
No o!
Only one!
Shior!

If I was a guy ehn I’ll probably be a hermit…Forever alone.
Spend excess money on a girl? Am I mad?
Is her V made of gold? Does it hold the secrets to immortality?
Niggur PLEASE!
And the thing that can pain me is later, the same girls that extort money from their men would be claiming Feminist.
Akuko!
Femi-gini?
Let me spend 40k on you and you don’t pound yam for a month for me first.
Ya doing feminist.
E be like say you never jam jazz. I go just seal your vagina spiritually.
Dey there.

Look at this.
A girl would call you. Maybe your girlfriend. Maybe your fuck buddy. Una know una selves
“Hey Honey, I’m horny”
You will run to her house and perform.
“Thanks honey”
Chop kiss and go home.
Oya call the same girl to ask for the same thing and she will charge you for her  transport/feeding/house rent/school fees/her friends’ school fees.
Is it fair?
No really. Is it?
S.M.H
You too, kiss and disappear!
Why should you pay for her transport?
My friend, God gave you two legs! Rejoice and waka dey go your house!
It is all part of getting fit. No need to ask you about money for gym subscription later.
Kill two birds with one stone.

I’m not saying don’t spend on your woman.
Note, I said YOUR woman.
Some dudes will be spending on women that have friend-zoned them in hope that they would change their minds.
Brother, your step-mother in the village is playing Ludo with your destiny.
Listen to yourself!
After she don chop your money finish, she’ll gaan marry someone else.
You will be there, biting your fingers in regret.
Otondo Esquire.

Where was I? Ehen.
I’m not saying don’t spend on your woman.
Make her feel special.
(You can only make the  moment special if it doesn’t happen often. Look at Christmas. Once a year. Special. Look at Mother’s Day. Every frigging Sunday in April and May. Not special).
As I was saying, treat her to something romantic and affordable.
Take her to Mr Biggs once in a while and buy her chicken pie.
On a special occasion like her birthday, out of the goodness of your heart, you buy Pepsi and join to the chicken pie.
If she’s complaining, tell her she’s adding weight and return the Pepsi. She can drink water.
Buy her a packet of red candles for Valentine. Non-scented. Why should you buy her scented candles? Is she a priestess? Abi she be ogbanje?
Bikonu!
If she insists on scents, buy her an air freshner.

There is a likely chance she will dump you but it doesn’t matter. You’re saving yourself financial stress.
Na her type. After spending over 5 milla during dating, you go ask about bride price and her family will charge you 10 milla.
Maka why. When she don chop half her bride price?
Later you start shedding tears on your wedding day.
Abeg.

It’s better to be forever alone and be a wealthy man than to be forever in debt with a high-maintenance woman.

Your girl will probably hate this advice I’m dispensing freely today.
“Honey, Peruvian hair”
Peru-gini?
My friend gaan plait shuku, all-back or police cap.
Better still, low-cut. You can share your clipper with her.
It’s all part of love and bonding; shave my hair, I shave yours.
Look at Amber Rose. Sexy low-cut. Is Wiz Khalifa paying for human hair?
“Honey, money for relaxer”
Relaxer ko. Let her go natural! It is good for her scalp.
Buy her a can of locally made oil. Her hair would grow longer and you will have something to pull when you’re hitting it from the back.

She will even attempt to trick you. She will come to your house and insist to cook for you.
Wait for it.
“Honey, money so I can buy foodstuff”
Lai lai! She will overprice the foodstuff.
Tell her to sit down and give you time to go and withdraw money.
On your way, buy the foodstuff you need to the nearest kobo. Collect your change my brother and come house.
“Honey, where is the money?”
“Oh darling I decided to go to the market since it was near the ATM. Save stress for my egovine. My akwa nwa. My sweetie. “
Story Story.

Umu boys, you gats to sharpen up! Stop wasting your money!
You say investment. You’re investing on her.
Your mates are investing in Properties and shii.
Some are investing IN their own babes (and probably yours sef)
You’re there, investing ON her.
You’re lost brother.

My last advice. If your babe is making trouble about the monetary issue, fine.
Give her the money on one condition.
She will tamba your friends, collect money from them and give to you.
Profit my dear, PROFIT!
She’s probably doing it already for free so you might as well make some money out of a bad situation NO?

I’m done!
Tired.
Still stressed/bombed out.
*sigh*

P.S: This is an announcement. I will welcome short stories from every corner of the world. Please let me know if anyone you can help or if you know that can. Just a guest thing.
At me bebe! @weird_oo

There! Done!
*Goes back to studying*

Vulpine

Hello!
Today’s post is brought to you, for the first time here, by a young talented man @Joshua_Lean.
Do enjoy!

———————————————

Gerald “Whites” Smith.

Owned a restaurant down the street.
Sold Toutierre for a living.
Called Pearly Whites because any time he smiled, his teeth would light up.
Wonder if she noticed his smile when he tore her head off.
Diagnosed with schizophrenia,
Wonder if that was what made him rip her heart out as she watched.
He was not normal, not like anyone you’d ever met.
As a kid, he sold toys. Toys made from bones of dead animals.
A quarter a piece. It was good business, no wonder he was never caught.
How come he slipped? Was it the blood on his chef uniform.
I wonder where he keeps the bodies? He is not going to be charged.
Old man Jerry said he once saw a finger in his Toutierre.
But Old man Jerry has Alzheimer’s…
No one will believe him, after all, it is Whites.
62 years, never caught.

James “Fresh Face” Johnson

“You are what you eat”,  James always said to himself .
He was really picky with his food,
Everything had to be fresh.
It worked for him, the Casanova
Can you blame him? Charming, something about his eyes
He had a thing for brunettes, something about how their hair fell.
“They say you are what you eat” he always said to me.
If you are what you eat,
then Mr James must be Samantha, Cheryl, Jane and Mary.

Donald Kramer

Virgin.

**********************************

Captain Ricardo Wallace of the NYPD rushed into the station, still eating the half doughnut he’d found in his car. There was little time for food these days and sleep seemed to be taking naps of its own. He nodded to Paul and Anderson as he walked into his office, both weary looking. His face contorted into a grimace as he remembered the latest twist in his case, one that threatened to swallow the entire police force. He moved to his desk, opened the drawer and found the red-taped envelope he was looking for. He stared at it for what seemed like eternity before finally picking it and peeking inside with one eye; hoping the document inside had vanished.
It had not.
He sighed.
He pulled off the brown paper and read its contents for the millionth time since it arrived three days ago.

-Samantha Summers, 21, caucasian, brunette, first child, paralegal, cause of death: unknown.

Cheryl Garner, 24, caucasian, brunette, third child, swimmer, cause of death: unknown.

Jane Willows, 20, caucasian, brunette, dancer, last child, cause of death: unknown.

Mary Cheeney-Beckett, 18, caucasian, brunette, only child, cause of death: unknown.

There were 28 of them, but these were the only bodies that had been identified. Just days after being killed under very fearful circumstances and in horrid fashion by someone or something, some one or something broke into every single one of their graves and desecrated their remains. He flipped through the pages again and again, his eyes roving, searching for the link he knew was there but couldn’t find. He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear the knock on the door. A mumble was all he could manage. Paul walked into his boss’S office and what he saw terrified him. The captain looked up.

“What?”
”Uh, n-nothing. The governor called some minutes ago, its time for the press-conference. The families are going to be there.”
“Shit! I almost forgot!!” the captain punched himself.
“What are you going to say?” Paul asked, putting his jacket on.
“My head’s blank man, I have no idea.”
“God help us.”
“Amen.”

********************************

Whites dug into his turkey and sighed in contentment, it tasted so good. Almost as good as Andrea. Ah! Andrea, she was strong, lasted longer than the others. He remembered her taste, her sweet sugary taste. Her insides…
His pants had begun to tent. He stood and took a sip of his wine, recalling the details from last night as his lips contorted into a smile. The others haven’t called yet to agree on where to meet this evening.
Very strange.
He went downstairs and opened a door that led to an odd-looking passage only visible to him and the ‘gang’. He walked into a dimly lit long hall. On the walls were paintings of over a hundred brunettes, all of them beautiful and voluptuous but most importantly, ambitious; he liked that in a woman.
The painting aspect was a delicate process, one he never tried to under-estimate, it took time and concentration and this meant the rest had to wait a while before they satisfied their hunger so he let them have solitary hunts first. He stared at the paintings with longing, wishing he could do more than just relive the moments.

He remembered his first, June. They’d gone to high-school together and there was a connection or rather he felt a connection to her. She was at the top of the social scene, he was a nerd and they therefore weren’t compatible. Well, that was the excuse she gave. But he wasn’t willing to just let go, he was a Virgo, and all Virgos were overachievers. Eventually he got his chance, that night, the one he will never forget…
He still wondered why the police insisted she was dead. He can still hear her, feel her; she lived, inside of him.
He remembered his old man and the things he’d taught him. The old man took time to explain his parables in detail. His father’s lips were an article of faith for him, he’d lived by everything that proceeded out of them, and not by bread alone, definitely not by bread.

“You listen to their heart and the song in their blood, that’s what should lead you. Don’t you be looking in their eyes, that’s where Eve lies. Be gentle, love them before you tear them open…”

He remembered his mother, one of his best performances, although she had struggled too much and didn’t last long enough. He remembered the look she wore when he walked into her room past midnight after the transformation. He could still hear her screams. They were with him, forever. That was his father’s gift to him before he died, just as his father had given him his mother and the one before him.
It was tradition, he smiled.

He still didn’t understand why people in the newspapers called what they did ‘grotesque and evil’. He shook his head at their lack of ability to appreciate true art.
“Such small-minded fools.” he cursed. He walked down the hall and stopped as his wizened eyes settled on Vanessa. She had been wonderfully crafted, but what he’d liked the most about her was her screaming. It was just the right pitch!
She was one of the rare ones and he took his time breaking her body and freeing her spirit – that was their calling. They were soldiers for the soul. The body was a cage and they held the key; yes, they did.
The last painting on the row, Rachel. All he could remember of her were her large breasts and tiny eyes. She was like the day, weak and submissive.
The night was who they paid homage to; to whom they offered bloody hands and bloody offerings.

************************************

James Johnson walked into Charlie’s at about twelve, in a three-piece suit. He was eye-catching, nothing like his scruffy bartender persona. The most colorful lure caught the biggest fish. He scanned the crowd, his eyes wandering till they settled on sleek toned legs crossed over each other on the high stool, attached to a blonde sitting at the bar.
She was too good to pass on, she was a novelty. He hadn’t fed on a blonde before. His saliva glands wet his palate as he wondered how the flaxen-haired would taste. He walked up to the bar and commandeered the stool closest to her.
“It’s not very polite to gawk,you know.” she giggled.
“How did you know I was ‘gawking?” He smirked.
She winked conspiratorially. “I always know.”
The hunger bloomed like wild-fire.
“People stare often, I presume.”
“All the time, they can’t help it.”
“Hmmm! And you enjoy it?”
“How can I not, having people stare is my art.”
He laughed at that, she had a sense of humour.
“Are you alone?” he asked
“Depends”
“…on what?”..
“How much of a good time you are.” She teased
The suggestion was clear as day.

*****************************************

It was a dingy motel, run by people he knew well. He said hello to a couple of people as they walked inside, his arm around her waist, hand slipping down to squeeze her buttocks every two minutes.
They slipped into a room. A quick shrug of her shoulders and her shimmery dress was a puddle on the floor. Her body was as flawless as her face.
Today was one of his luckier days.
He was on her before she knew it. He licked her from head to toe, juxtaposing soft kisses with hard ones. She moaned her appreciation. The hunger intensified and gnawed on his insides.
With one move he tore his clothes off and roared.
She tried to get up -something was wrong- but she couldn’t move.  He grazed her neck with an elongated canine and licked the trickle of blood that flowed.
“W-what are y-you doing?”
He laughed. “This, my darling… is my art, lie still and enjoy.”
She saw the white in his eyes vanish.
The hunger took his mind over now.
James was gone.
She started to scream or rather she was about to when he tore into her fleshy throat and worked his jaws down, chewing into her stomach and drooling all over, her blood splattering in all directions. He let out a territorial growl.
Minutes later, he had her inside him up to the midriff then he swallowed…
And James returned.
He wiped his bloody maw; that had been delicious, but too quick for him. She was like a buffet; he’d stuffed himself so fast, didn’t get to savour her or even ask her name. But all is well when the hunger is fed.
He tidied up the room, took an hour but he always bothered with the details.
It was what had kept him on the streets this long.
He smiled.
He was starting to think he was better at this than his father. He watched his father perform so many times; he’d always gone for the neck first, like his four-footed cousins. He knew, not only because he watched, but because he was once his father’s partner, in every way.  His father loved to touch him, everywhere. The bite marks across his back were proof of how impassioned things could get.
His father lived two miles away, one of the wealthiest men in those parts, yet the man didn’t even give him a dime. He hadn’t tasted a man in a while. ‘Time to pay the old man a visit’  he thought,’Time for the student to show his progress to the teacher’.

*******************************************

With the moon’s songs entwined in his head, the freckled boy woke up humming an unusual tune. He saw muddy paw prints on his bedroom window  - they had come and gone. He reached for his toy box, his army of toy soldiers; lips stiffened, eyelids unwavering, prepared for calamitous days.
His eyes strayed to his bedside. Arranged in alphabetical order, an ungodly number of leather-bound books; Marx, Plato, Wilde, Maslow. There were few things he did not know, he mused.
There were three walls in his purview; the one facing his bed was his pride and glory, his ‘baby’. On the wall he could see all fifteen of his sister’s dolls, stolen while she slept, beheaded and nailed to tiny crosses roughly hewn from the blocks of ornamental firewood beside their electric fireplace. He wasn’t moved by pulchritude. He lovingly gazed at it every night before he went to bed, it prepared him for the nightmares.
“This is it. Tonight, I join the sacred feast.”
The night was thick  and vinegary with bad tidings, just how he liked it. His shadow, an obtrusive, timorous creature followed him lackadaiscally, murmuring to itself.
“It is time” the boy said.
Engaging in primordial flagellation, he cut himself and then sprinkled the blood on the heads of the soldiers, anointing them.
“E puribus unum.” he whispered into their tiny ears.
He remembered the words of the redbreast (a reliable source in many things).
“They come just about midnight.”
He had to be quick. He looked through the window, at dread and death, ensconced in the darkness. A sharp cry rang out. The boy smiled, his shadow whimpered. One of the soldiers brandished a knife, a mock display of bravado. The boy shook his head and holding a fork, bludgeoned the soldier until all that remained were his eyes, those he kept.
“Emotions are bad for you. Never let them bully you into displaying them to the world, they want fame, the selfish things.”

He was silent for some seconds, then turned back to the window and there they were. Darkening clouds uncloaked a moon, red as blood. Earlier that day, another six-foot abyss had been occupied. The air was foul, the only noise, silence,  biting its overgrown nails. Beasts on the prowl, retreating to their respective holes as unseen hands carry their tools of trade. From his window, he could see everything.
His was just to watch and learn, nothing more.

He could make out the two creatures, one slightly more revolting and increasingly contorted than the last, limping in retarded fashion. Their ghastly eyes settled on the new headstone, bony clawed fingers outstretched over the recently dug earth. Muffled screams with heavy timolo could be heard from within. He knew what was about to happen,he had seen the same scene so many times before.
He knew who those creatures were. They were the hollow men and they’d come to feed. Donald Kramer watched as the creatures pulled the bodies out and expertly tore them to pieces; this was his favourite part.

But it wasn’t the highlight of the night, after the feast they performed some kind of dance and over time, he had studied this ritual; every flip, every turn and every twist.
He remembered when his sister walked in on him while he was practising.
She had screamed and he had hit her once on the head.
She died immediately. They were alone at home that night.
He said she had run away.
The thought of coming clean had crossed his mind  but he’d stayed it. He knew somehow that the police would believe his story, and they did.
Few could resist him.

”Fools.” he chuckled, his shadow finding no humor scratched its ugly head.
Convinced that his mother was still asleep and his door was bolted, he tore his clothes off.
It was time for the dance.
The creatures leaped and mumbled jargons to the fallen leaves. Donald followed every movement, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Then all of a sudden, he felt a growing heat in him and a presence that was not unfamiliar. He tried to stay still and figure out what was happening, he couldn’t…

The windows shattered, and he fell. He opened his eyes… and it hurt. Everything hurt. Slowly he rose and then he stopped. His room was in disarray, his books were in shreds, he looked at what remained of his mirror… and was shaken by the vulpine creature that replaced his 12-year-old frame. His eyes seemed to reflect the darkness around him.
He was about three feet taller, covered in fur. He felt a sharp pain in his gut, like a tuning fork vibrating and rattling his insides. Before he could recover from his fright, a hunger took him over; a different kind of hunger, a sentient hunger, the kind he only read of in a Stephen King book. It was distinctively primal and it seemed to call out to him.
”Feed!”

***********************************

Sergeant Parker Paul strolled into the SRU  (Strategic Response Unit) block, looking for somewhere to burn out. He was exhausted, they’d had three reports of ‘monsters’ in the town this morning. Normally, they would dismiss such reports but under the circumstance, his team was dispatched to hunt these ‘beasts’. They had been patrolling for hours,  didn’t even find a stray dog.
The phone rang. Reluctantly he answered.
“Parker… A missing girl?… last seen?… Charlie’s?… I’ll inform the captain immediately!”
First, a little nap he thought. As soon as his head touched the pillow, he was fast asleep, the details of the phone call dissolved into nothingness.

************************************

Donald walked out of class bubbling with life. The last period bell had just rung. He espied Kelly Wallace walk out of her class and felt that hunger rise again. A split second was all he needed to decide on walking up to her.
“I hear you got a ‘D’ in Maths. If you let me walk home with you we could go over it together.”
Kelly stared at the ground for a second, blushing all over. She was shy around guys.
“S-sure,but first, I have to get something from Sandra.”
“Okay,I’ll wait for you”..
She smiled a little and skipped down the hall, turning back to check if Donald was still there. He waved to reassure her and grimaced as the hunger spread. Amazingly, no one noticed the deep darkness that leached into his eyes. She had nice features, he thought to himself. She had beautiful hair, tied in a bun, brunette locks that caught the light as she ran. She would make a perfect first, one he could remember forever.

*******************************************

Captain Wallace had not slept in three days since the press conference, neither had anyone in the SRU. He looked over at the vibrating phone atop the leather vanity top beside his day bed. He instinctively knew that whomever was calling him now was going to give him reason not to sleep for the rest of the week. He reluctantly reached for his phone, looked at the caller ID.
”Anderson?”
He listened for a moment and then he got off the bed, cradling the phone with his shoulder and awkwardly dancing on the spot as he tried to pull on his jacket, still listening to every word.
“Mother called?… Hysterical?…Voodoo?”
He put the phone on speaker and pulled on his shoes as Anderson rambled excitedly.
“I’ll be on my way… tell them not to do anything till I get there!”

*****************************************

They swarmed into the first room. The smell hit them hard and his stomach grumbled in protest as his mind fed it images of maggots squirming in rotting flesh. He looked inside the inner room and his stomach roiled and he doubled over and retched, his stomach walls constricting in revulsion. Nailed to the wall, was the dismembered corpse of tiny Caroline Kramer. His heart beat faster now. He tried to look away but couldn’t; there was something about this that made him want to choke and gouge his eyes out.
“The killing style is different from the others, sir.”
The captain did not respond. He moved closer, it was definitely the same pattern only that this was… amateurish. Maybe they didn’t have time, a hundred maybes rushed into his mind…
The others went into the room at the end of the corridor, they called their captain.
They faced what look like a four-foot chamber, with great effort they pushed, rammed the steel door down, and froze. They were taken aback by what they saw.
“Oh God!!!” One of the other police men uttered.

He looked at the walls, the beheaded dolls. His eyes stopped at the drawings..he had seen something similar, Kelly had brought one like it home from school, said it was by one of her classmates…
Damon… Dave… Donald!! The child’s name was Donald. He paused, Kelly was still at school. A new dread crept over him, encapsulating him; he couldn’t breathe. He clutched at the knot in his tie, clawing at the stubbled skin underneath. The others surrounded him…
”KELLY!” he screamed.

————————————————————-

*Insert GHEUN here*
-___-

In my head

Hello!
Another Friday, another entry!

I’d be taking a leaf from @ekwem’s book today.
No, i won’t be writing about angels and their flaming swords.
I would be writing about a dream i had.
A pretty basic one. A good dream by my standards in fact.
*shark grin*
Enjoy

——————————————————

His death came under the most regrettable of circumstance.
We were all on the yacht, acting like the rich oafs that we were.
I probably shouldn’t have teased him the way I did but I’m a succubus. I couldn’t help myself.
I didn’t exactly expect him to jump off the yacht when I told him to. I promised him something; I forget what now.
A kiss perhaps.
He jumped.
The fool drowned.
“OMG! My brother!!” his brother- and my friend- screamed.
Two of my friends jumped into the sea to pull him out, albeit too late.
“Let us revive him” his brother muttered.
I tore my eyes away from the  blue-green scenery to give him a startled look.
“Revive him? With that method? No! Not safe!”
His brother threw me an angry glare, as if saying ‘This is all your fault!’
Yeah. Like I cared if his stupid brother lived or died.
I shook my head at them. “If I were you, I wouldn’t revive him.” I muttered.
The brother ignored me. The other friends sided with him.
Yada Yada.
“Go ahead then” I whispered, turning back to gaze at the unending sea.
The hairs at the back of my neck stood up even as I said so.
It wasn’t going to end well.
I heard them lift the dead body and place him on one of the long sofas.
I didn’t want to watch but my curiosity got the better of me.
I watched them as they set The Machine.
The Machine was my design, my brain child.
The friends contributed as well but I brought the idea so yeah!
Theoretically, it was supposed to be able to bring the dead back to life.
Practically… well we hadn’t tested it yet.
I think that as why I was curious; I really wanted to see if my child would work.
His brother unbuttoned and exposed the dead boy’s chest. Gingerly, he placed the metal disks on the chest and fiddled with The Machine, adjusting the dials.
He glanced at me as his fingers hovered on the switch button.
I nodded hesitantly.
He flicked the switch.

We watched in fascination as the body jerked and smoked, high volts to the skin.
It stopped.
We all stared, transfixed.
It didn’t work?
I was beginning to feel an ache of disappointment in my heart, when the body sat up.
It worked.
We raise the fucking dead!
He opened his eyes and turned to us.
He smiled.
That’s when I knew the shit had hit the fan.

He wasn’t normal.
It was too darn obvious.
They stepped away from him as he cleared his throat.
“You shouldn’t have brought me back” his voice rasped, that manic grin still plastered on his face.
His brother went to him, trying to touch him.
With blinding speed, the dead boy’s arms went around his brother’s neck.
Snap.
Broken neck.
My friend was dead.
Shit.
“You really shouldn’t have brought me back” he said again. “Not after you killed me”
He laughed and began to get up.
I backed away, and without checking on my friends, I jumped off the boat.
Shit has hit the fan.
That was my only thought as my head broke into the waters.

————————————————

“You have someone here asking for you” The voice on the phone said.
I grumbled. I was in a lecture. Why on earth would the school receptionist be calling me about a visitor?
“Who is it? Name?” I muttered as I got up and walked to the back of the class.
“No name. He just left now, coming up to your hall. Had some pretty freaky smile on.”
The pen dropped.
Uh oh.
I quickly cut the phone, stuffed it into my pockets as I hurried to take my bag.
My hands were shaking.
The door opened and he walked in.
His eyes swiveled to me and his grin, ever-present, flashed brighter as he walked towards me.
I walked back, eyes darting around, looking for another exit.
The windows!
They were open.
I ran quickly and he chased me.
My chest was beginning to hurt from the thudding.
I got to the window and pulled it open.
I pushed my legs out first when I felt a thug.
He was holding my bag!
I screamed and let go of the bag, scrambling away.
I was standing on a roof.
Without thinking, I jumped.

—————————————

“What are we going to do!” The voice on the phone screamed at me.
It was one of my friends.
He just received a package.
I swallowed as I waited in the queue at the airport.
“You saw what?”
“Are you fucking deaf!!!! He posted the decapitated heads of his fucking brother and Clarence to me!! They are fucking staring at me right now!”
My head was aching.
Heads? He  cut off Clarence’s head? And his brother’s head?
Jesus.
“Look dude. Calm the fuck down and start getting ready to leave the city.” i whispered angrily, closing my aching eyes.
I heard sobs and realised he was crying.
“I’m scared! I’m fucking scared! It’s..It’s like he’s taunting me!”
I ground my teeth in irritation.
“Can you fucking shut up!” I growled. “You wanna die? Do you? Told y’all not to use that machine but no one listened! Now see!”
His sobs increased in intensity.
I sighed, running my fingers through my hair anxiously.
“Fine. You called the other two guys? Know if they’re alive or something?”
He muttered something down the phone.
“What?”
He choked on a sob “Yeah. No answer.”
“Shit!”
The queue moved a little and I advanced a few steps.
“Ok” i said finally, mind racing. “We’re going to assume they’re dead. You need to move out. The Psycho is probably watching your house so get set for some major slinking. This night dude. Meet me at our usual haunt. Gonna have to cancel my bloody trip because of you!”
“Thanks” he whispered
“Quick man!” I muttered and cut the call.
I moved out of the queue and rolled my bag out of the terminal.
I hailed a black taxi.
The trunk opened and i put my bag in. I closed, opened the car and sat at the back.

“Where would you like to go…asides hell that is?
“Wha…?”
I looked up startled, and saw the face, grinning at me through the mirror.
I screamed, hands instinctively opening the door as I scrambled out of the cab ungracefully.
His laughter followed me as I ran back to the airport terminals.
I kept turning back, trying to make sure he wasn’t following.
When i had run a long distance, I collapsed on one of the metal seats, shoulders shaking as my first sobs racked my frame.
“Are you alright madam?” a voice said beside me and I jumped up, startled.
It wasn’t him.
I shook my head, as tears poured down my eyes.
The kind man looked distressed at my misery.
He held my shoulders.
“Can I do anything to help?” he asked, his eyes wide with concern.
I nodded.
“I…I need a ride home”

——————————————————-

Somehow, we made it to our haunt.
We were three left.
Eight of us were on that yacht, including our psycho killer.
He had killed four.
We were safe.
We felt safe.
Out of the city.
Almost a week and no contact.
The three of us decided to go to the bar; an unspoken celebration.
After several hours and several bottles of  downed Jack Daniels, we decided to call it a night.
We walked drunkenly into our room; we were sharing a room.
On the table was food.
“Did anyone order food or something?” I slurred.
The others shook their head.
There was a salad bowl and a transparent Tupperware  that had jollof rice in it.
There was another Tupperware.
I walked unsteadily and opened it.
I stared, shocked, at the decaying heads of my missing four friends.
The door opened and closed.
I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
I heard a shriek and a stumble.
“Trapped” a voice said.

My heart leapt out of my chest in fear.
My legs turned jelly.
I shook as I turned to see the psycho killer, standing in the way of our only escape route.
A moan escaped my lips and I quickly covered my mouth, tears beginning to form.
“Sit down! I brought food!” he said genially, smiling, pointing at the floor.
I buckled and fell, bum on the ground. The others huddled close to me.
We watched him as he went to the table, brought out plates and began dishing out food for the three of us.
“I actually cooked this myself you know! I felt killing you guys on empty stomachs would be quite inhumane” he said conversationally as he put plates, heaped with rice and salad in front of us.
He stared at our cowering frames.
“Well?”
We took that as our cue and gently moved towards the plates.
Hands shaking, we began eating.
He got the bowl that had the heads and sat down in front of us, watching us eat. He pulled out the four heads.
“These would be dessert” he said, as he lovingly caressed the heads.
I choked at this and he threw me an evil glare.
“Yes” he continued, eyes still on me “We are all going to eat one head and after that, I cut your heads as replacement.”

“Nice heads” i said suddenly, unthinking. “You really cut them up real nice”
What the hell was I saying!!
His eyes gleamed in pleasure.
“I know right!”
I nodded “Yeah. Your axe strokes are pretty neat. You used an axe right?”
“You can tell? Wonderful!” he said, excited and clapped his hands like a child.
Suddenly, his eyebrows furrowed “But I didn’t bring the axe for you guys though.”
“A knife would do” I whispered and he smiled at me “Yes! That would be perfect!”
The others stared at me, wondering if I had finally lost it.

“In fact, I know a place where I can get you a pretty sharp knife. Steel. Cool and sexy. I can go get it for you”
“Really! Yes! I want that! Very sharp?”
I nodded. “It can slice our heads off very very easily” I slid a finger across my throat to demonstrate.
He waved a hand at me “Go! Go! Quick! Go bring the knife!”
The others clocked.
As I got up and walked to the door, one of them said “I know where I can get another knife too” and without waiting for permission, got up.
Once my hands touched the door. I pulled open and began to run.
The second person tried to hold me back but I pushed him down. His shirt caught on the door knob and he frantically tried to remove it.
The psycho killer finally got what just happened.
I tricked him.
Fury was written all over his face, i bet.
I didn’t turn to look.

“I WILL KILL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!” He screamed and got up, chasing after me.
I ran out of the building. There was a fence that had a bush of some sort behind it.
I jumped over the fence and hid in the bushes.

I heard him jump in.
“I will kill you brutally” he growled as he looked for me. ”I will cut you up and dismember you but you will feel pain. Pain!”
My body shook like a leaf as he neared my hiding place.
I heard his footsteps retreating and I let out a shaky breath I didn’t know I had been holding.
Suddenly, cold hands clamped on my shoulders.
“Bingo” he whispered in my ears.

I screamed…

————————————–

And woke up.

Yup. That was a dream I had.
No, i did not go back to sleep after that. Was pretty sure that dream would continue.
*Shudders*

The Oath

Welcome.
Enjoy.

————————————————-

“I ga eme ihe m gwara gi?” the old woman said, looking at the woman who sat before her.
Would you do what i told you to?
“Nne ukwu biko! A ga m eme ya!”
Great  Mother please. I’ll do it.
The old woman said nothing, staring eerily at the woman who sat in her coven, twiddling her thumbs nervously.
The old woman laughed.
“I ga emekwa ya nwanyi!” her voice rose an octave.
Woman would you do it!
The woman shuddered at the commanding voice. Her bowels rioted within her. Sweat beaded at her brows.
“E..eye. Nne.” she stammered.
Yes. Mother.
The old woman brought out a pot filled with murky liquid.
“Ngwa tinye aka gi niime!”
Put your hands inside!
Her hands shook as she hesitantly put her hands in.
The liquid turned blood-red.
The covenant was sealed.

——————————————-

“Don’t come in. Don’t come in” Emmanuella muttered to herself as she locked the doors quickly,placing strings of dry herbs underneath.
“Don’t. Don’t…”
She went up, taking the stairs two at a time, chest heaving from exertion and fear and she began shutting every window. She walked quickly, making sure she had not left any entrance open for them to come in. Satisfied, she went down, giving the ground floor the same treatment.
Perspiring profusely, her flimsy night-dress stuck to her body.
“Never. Never” she muttered, maniacal, as she got a wad of paper and tore them into little strips. Her hands shook as she methodically stuffed the keyholes of the entrance door.
“Not now. Not ever. You will not come in.”
She paused and stood, fighting the subtle weariness trying to creep into her.
“…forgetting something…” she rubbed her head as her vision began to dim. She blinked fast, banishing invading sleep.
Suddenly her head whipped up as she remembered.
“The light!”
She went round, switching all lights off, plunging the house into partial darkness.
“…must not attract it…” she whispered.

She lit a small candle for illumination and went back upstairs to check on her daughter, Ocheze. Sleeping peacefully, her pyjamas clad chest rose and fell. With a whispered prayer for their protection, she left her and took up her vigil in the sitting room. Carefully, she placed the candle on  holder.
She could feel it gathering.
“I shall outwit you! Waiting for me to sleep aren’t you? Ha!”
She said these furiously as she paced about.
She pushed the centre table aside and sat cross-legged on the rug. She blew air out of her mouth to her chest, trying to cool off. Slowly she calmed herself with deep steady breaths. Her eyes drooped to a close. She let her mind wander and predictably, it
made its way into the past…

“…….WHAT!”
“I’m sorry Ela! I’m so sorry! Please forgive and understand me…”
“Forgive you?? Understand what mummy! How am I supposed to understand that I’m a child of..of the ‘Moon goddess’? That you promised to put me in her service when I became a real woman? How am I supposed to understand that my life is forfeit because of a stupid oath you broke?? How! After all these years? You’re telling me this now? Before my wedding?? Mama!”
“Ela listen biko…I was desperate! You did not know the kind of abuse I received die to my childless! You don’t..”
“And so you bought me on credit and couldn’t pay back? ? In fact! I would not believe such nonsense!”
“Emmanuella! For your sake please do this! Even if you do not believe please just take this precaution. Nwa m biko! Every full moon, after the birth of your first female child, lock the doors! I’d give you some things to use after your honeymo..”
“Mama! O zugo. Please just leave. This is just too much to handle…”

The scene dissolved into a mist of memories, another forming and rising in its place.

Emmanuella was running through a dense forest, carrying a bundle in the crook of her arm. Hanging branches of the trees lashed at her as she ran past them.
‘The baby would be mine!’ The disembodied voice of an aged woman said harshly surrounding her.
‘Never! Leave my child alone! Go and meet my mother! You made an oath with her not me!’ Emmauella’s voice screamed back, running for cover.
‘You will die and the child would be mine! I would not be cheated twice!’
Emmanuella heard footsteps behind her and she continued running, panting.
A baby’s cry emerged from the bundle.

“Push!! She’s losing blood fast! She would need a tranfusion. Push!”
“Nnnnnngggghhh….”

Emmanuella continued running, until she found shelter.
She held the bundle close to her chest muffling its cries.
They were safe…temporarily

“It’s a baby girl! Congratulations Madam.
No need to cry Madam! It’s over! You are lucky to be alive o! Here, carry her….”

On the heels of that memory, followed another…

“….it’s not about me being superstitious Phillip! Mummy told me two weeks before her death and I didn’t believe her! Do you know what it tried to do when I was in labour? The spirit was going to claim our baby! Please! Just help me lock the doors and windows and let’s stay in. Just tonight…”
“I’m sorry Ela but I must leave the house now! It’s important I get to Dapo’s place and back before its midnight! This is utter rubbish! Your mother is rural and archaic! Moon goddess? Why would you, an educated woman, believe something bad would happen after Ocheze’s birth?…”
“….No! Phillip!..

She had tried to stop him.
She knew what would happen.
She knew…

“…what do you mean! He slumped? How! Where! Dead! No! Please God! No! I cannot come out of the house! No! Dapo please! Take him to the morgue! I’d go in the morning! Please! YOU WON’T UNDERSTAND! The full moon is trying to draw me out! I’M NOT MAD FOR GOD’S SAKE!…”

Violent  rattling on the windows and door panes broke the connection and she was back to the present. She leaned and blew off the wispy flames with a shaky breath. The glow of the full moon didn’t penetrate through the thick curtains but she could feel it. She could feel the red mists gathering around the house enveloping it into its chilly embrace.
Her teeth began chattering.
Goosebumps.
She shivered and rubbed her exposed arms to ward off the cold.
Suddenly, she was glad Ocheze was a deep sleeper. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to go through these terrors. She would bear it alone.
“So far the entrances are closed, you will NOT come in! Stay out! Stay where you belong! Go back! Take your spirits with you! My wards would protect me and my child! HA!”
Her skin crawled and she was tempted to get up and run.
She resisted.
It was trying to wear her down mentally.
“Never!”
She ground her chattering teeth as she listened to the wind howl. She peered through the curtains and faintly saw the shadows of the trees bend and sway, dancing to the rhythm of the music only nature could play.
She shuddered and silently cursed her mother who put her through this.

Time crawled.
She never really knew how long the attacks lasted for.
It felt longer every time. Time crawled even slower this time.
Slowly, she felt the house being released from its choke hold.
She could feel the terror leave her body.
Was it over?
She checked the time.
Twenty minutes.
It had lasted for twenty minutes this time.
Shorter than the last time.
Suddenly, she grinned.
“You are getting tired aren’t you! Fighting a losing battle!” she yelled.
She laughed, throwing her head back.

***************

Unheard, the old woman laughed along with her.

***************

Ocheze woke up in the darkness and and was frightened. She jumped off the bed and gingerly made her way to the window where the faint gleam of the moon shone. She drew the curtains.
“Wow. So big and bright.”
She stared at the lady of the night in all her splendour, alone and unaccompanied by her starry minions.
Majestic.
She saw something move in the shadows.
Suddenly a man appeared at the window and she jumped back in fright, heart pounding.
“Musa! You made me afraid! You should be at the gate not here”
The man Musa banged at the window urgently, looking back often as if trying to escape something.
With her shaky eight year old hands, she prised the window open and watched as he tumbled
into her room.

************************

The old woman laughed louder.

**************************

Ocheze suddenly shivered, wondering if she should have let Musa in.
“Ah Ochese! Taink you! Where your mama? Persin dey gate but I no wan open. I dey fear!”
“She’s in her room.” Ocheze said, unsure and
afraid.
“Stay for here make i go find am. No follow me you hear!”
She nodded quickly and closed her door as soon as he left.
The last thing Ocheze heard from her mother’s mouth was a shrill scream;
primal fear reverberated from her vocal chords.
“Mummy!”

**************************

The old woman climbed the stairs, red eyes gleaming in the darkness.
“Okpochi nti ijiji ga esoro ozu lakpu niime ili” she hissed.
A stubborn fly would follow a corpse to its grave.
She heard the loud whimpers of the child and smiled.

************************

Ocheze heard the footsteps on the stairs.
She heard the jiggling of bells.
Her heart pounded.
Her legs felt rubbery.
Her bladder gave away and she shook, turning her pyjamas bottom dark with urine.
She heard the faint laughter she knew it was coming for her.
She wanted to go make sure the door was locked but her legs betrayed her.
She fell.
She watched as the door handle twisted, turned and opened.
She watched as the feet entered into her room.
Bare, black, ringed with tiny bells
She wanted to scream but she couldn’t.

The old woman walked in.

Ocheze stared at the bald, ancient woman who stood in her presence.
Her red eyes glowed; her face, patterned with white chalk.
A red wrapper was tied to her chest.
She smiled, showing her gum devoid of teeth, and walked towards her
Ocheze whimpered and crawled back.
With surprising speed, the old woman got close and held her face in the palm of one hand.
Tears obscured her vision and she closed her eyes, lips quivering.
The old woman laughed.
“Nwa m. My child.”

Ocheze felt the fetid breath of the woman on her skin.
She smelt rotten.
Suddenly, her voice came back.
Ocheze screamed and she sank into oblivion.

Visiting the iniquities of the
fathers, upon the children, unto the third and
fourth generation…

The End.

———————————————————

Thanks for reading and hoping you enjoyed that, do comment!
Have a lovely weekend

On Hard work

Hola!
This isn’t a written post really. It is just a video clip i wanted to share.
Proud of my brother who won a regional public speaking challenge.
He spoke on Hard work and what it meant to him.
Hope it inspires!
Also wishing him the very best of luck at the National Final!

Legion

Hello ningensei (Humans, in case you wondered what that meant).
I bring you a story I joyfully received from one of the witers on one of my favorite blogs, (Pass The Salt), @Titaenium!
Do read and enjoy!

————————————————————–

“So the devils besought him, saying,
if thou cast us out,
suffer us to go away into the herd of swine”

Matthew 8:31
(King James Bible {Cambridge Edition})

****************************************

The lake is still.
A monstrous mirror; reflecting the empty, endless blue of the sky.
She wants it to move.
She picks up a perfect pearl of a pebble and tosses it but before it slams into the sliver surface of the water, she wishes she hadn’t. The splash is deafening, sending ripples across the lake’s surface, turning glass into liquid.
Mary smiles a little as the chaos oddly calms her nerves for a moment. The lake is returning to stillness, but she isn’t. Her mind is a jumble of jagged emotion. She won’t cry. She didn’t cry the last three times and she won’t now.  He was just a boy. She had loved him; had imagined a wedding in the springtime, in  a garden bursting with colour and life. Then he had called to tell her he was on another continent. He was never coming back. There was no emotion in his voice but she could see him in her mind’s eye walking down some red-dirt road, avoiding a bustling crowd, full of colour and life, chewing his teeth as he forced out the words.

She had smiled through her tears as she whispered goodbye and calmly walked to the lake. A place she only knew. She had brought him here to her place.  They had kissed in the soft scented air, rolled around in prickly grass, sunbathed naked. He had  filled her hair with lilies and kissed her, told her how beautiful she – a loud scream escapes her lips as she grabs a handful of the pebbles that litter the bank and flings them into the air above the lake. They fall in staccato, puncturing the still glass of the lake for a second time and causing birds to take flight from the trees, where they had been silent, choked by the hot air.
She falls to her knees and ragged sobs escape her. She wants to stop but she can’t, love has fucked her over again and it hurts.

“Are you alright?” a deep voice rumbles above her. She looks up and sees a man, a very beautiful man. He’s physical rugged, matching his gravel-in-velvet voice and she would have believed he was some sort of construction worker if she hadn’t seen the paint smeared across both his knuckles.
“Yes.”, she says standing up,  dusting moist sand off her yellow sundress and tucking blood red hair behind her ears. , “I’m fine, just a little…tired”
“You looked  like you were having a meltdown and it didn’t look ‘a little tired”. His voice is tinged with sarcasm. She giggles.
“Well, it was  tired, when I have actual meltdowns I spit fire.”. It’s his turn to laugh.
“I’m Lucius”, he says extending his green, blue and yellow hand.
“Mary”, she says as she grabs it. It’s warm and rough and it makes her feel safe again. She stares into his eyes and her heart skips.  They’re the colour of rum, almost red.
“You’re bleeding”, he points to her knees, his brows, wrinkled.
“Sorry?”. She’s busy staring at his cheek covered in ink black stubble, she wants to touch it and forget.
“You are bleeding.?” He says, emphasizing the –eeding
She looks down, sees the raw red skin and realizes that her knees are tingling and that they have been since she met her Knight with Painted Hands.
“Oh. I h-“
“I’ll just go get  my painting gear, so we can get it checked at my place.”

They walk a short way along the bank till they get to his easel, stuck in the soggy earth. On it is a large painting of the lake in all it’s still glory; lush blues and shimmering greys, at the left bottom corner, she sees herself, a yellow smear  frozen in thought, staring across the lake. It’s breathtaking. She’s feels small and fragile.
As he bends over to wrap it in moist muslin, she knows what she has to do to forget her fuckhead ex.
Sex heals.
They walk to his apartment which isn’t so far from the river.
He goes to get his first aid kid as she perches tentatively on a sofa.
He comes back and dutifully begins to clean up her wound.
The moment he drops the soaked cotton ball and rises to look at her face, biting his lower lip innocently, she attacks.
He tastes like creamy coffee and smells of citrus, lake air and a heady male musk. His body is hard against hers and as she works her tongue into his mouth grabbing his stubble covered jaw , he hoists her and slams her into a wall kissing her back with a heat that makes her toes curl then he takes her to the room. He pulls off his shirt and tosses it over his shoulder; she has her dress in a pool at their feet. He lifts her and she wraps her legs around his waist, he moves sliding across the smooth wood floor of his apartment and drops her into the bed, pressing her into the soft cotton sheets with his fever hot body. He unclasps her bra and takes a nipple into his mouth and the world shivers.

They’re dancing.

A primal dance, punctuated with the music of their moans. She’s above him, head thrown back, pale neck exposed, stomach bellowing furiously, curly red mane stuck to her shoulders with sweat, she can feel his hot flesh deep  inside her. He lies in the white sheets, his tan skin contrasting, the tattoo of a hog’s head peeking through the hair on his heaving chest; the air is thrumming with lust. Lucius crests with a ragged moan emptying himself into her. He flips her onto the bed and looks into her sky blue eyes, dark with lust and smiles, sliding his fingers into her centre and watching her back arch in ecstasy. He grabs her hips in his rough painted hands and with his mouth, brings her over the edge, ripples of heat flashing through her as she sees the Sun.

*****************************************

She stands at the door, her shoes in her hands and her yellow sundress rumpled. Her red locks are a halo of unruly curls around her face. She smiles at the nearly naked sleeping Lucius, kept decent by a slip of white bed sheet. He looks like a bronze statue as the sun slips through the curtains to ignite his tan skin. The sex worked; her ex now seems like an old memory that left a bad taste in her mouth. Life could now go on, with her being single and studying towards a healthy CGPA. She has her hand on the handle, when Lucius’ voice freezes her,
“Will you come back?”
“No, not really”, she laughs, moving mused hair out of her eyes, “I’m not ready to start and/or continue anything with anyone right now.”
He smiles, a crescent of blinding white in the morning sun.
“You will be back.”, his tone is sure and almost authoritative. She laughs again, but her heart does a little flip.
“Okay! If you say so!” her voice is unnaturally high and her hands are flailing more than normal.
Lucius has gone back to sleep, bronze eyelids quivering.
She slips on her shoes.
Weird. He doesn’t even know where I live.
Mary leaves the house and attempts a cute, long walk of shame to the nearest bus stop. She catches a glimpse of herself in a store window and sees her neck covered in hickeys. She takes a bus back to her tiny apartment.

*********************************************

Something is wrong.

Mary heaves dryly and a sharp pain shoots through her chest.  The roots of her hair are the color of blood, dark with sweat as she rests against the porcelain bowl of the toilet seat, breathing heavily. Her skin is pale and her eyes are a ripe pink; full of terror. She has been on the toilet floor for six hours unable to move. She takes a final heave and blood gushes out, red splattering against the shiny white.
She gasps and her hand goes to her mouth, tears running down her cheeks. She stands up on uneven legs and calls the ambulance.

**********************************************

“You are pregnant. The blood is weird, but it’s probably internal tears from all the dry vomiting” he says.
The world gradually goes hot and the tears start again. Her throat is dry.
“I’m sorry, Mary, but you need to calm down. Just go to sleep, you’ll be better. I’ll be back tomorrow for a scan.  Just call me when you need me.”
His body looks like its a thousand miles away and his voice echoes endlessly. Mary is pretty sure she is having a heart attack. She could not be pregnant. She just could not. She had always protected during sex with James, her ex, and he had been gone about two months before he called, so it wasn’t plausible. Lucius had been seven days ago and it just wasn’t biologically possible even though there hadn’t been protection. She remembered Lucius’ words and realized that she would be returning to his doorstep just eight days after having vigorous unprotected, nearly anonymous sex with him. She giggled to the empty room and drifted into a drugged haze.

*****************************************************

She’s having sex in a pig sty. She can feel the wet mud and dung on her back, around her large hairy pigs are silent and watching with black beady eyes. The man above her has the head of a hog, just like the one on Lucius’ chest. The body looks exactly like his too, complete with a tiny scar above his right nipple.
He repeatedly pounds into her.

The pigs are watching.

He starts grunting and a heat begins to well up between her legs, then she begins to scream, though it comes out as low moans because of  her gagged mouth.

The pigs are watching.

Snot drips from his snout onto her bare breasts, sliding down their middle, and causing her to nearly vomit and choke into the gag.

The pigs are watching

The heat is building and his grunts are getting louder.

The pigs are watching.

He comes with a loud open mouthed squeal, head thrown back. The heat between her legs becomes a flame. She dies, muffled screaming, as her flesh burns and ashes float on the stale air.

The pigs are watching.

Mary is woken up from her vivid dream by screaming. It’s loud, shrill and piercing. She realizes she’s the one doing it; her mouth is open as she delivers piercing shrieks into the air. She notices something is different and when she looks down and realizes, everything goes black.

******************************************************

“LUCIUS!!!!!!”
Mary slams the bottle into the door and it shatters sending emerald fragments across the sidewalk. She starts pounding on the wood with her other hand, making the door shiver as loud booms echoes through the house.
It opens suddenly and she falls into Lucius, her weak wrist letting go of her weapon and it rolls down the front stairs.
“Hello, Mary” he says, a sinister glint in his eye as he drags her in and locks the front door.  He moves swiftly back into the kitchen where something is frying and filling the air with a rich, fatty aroma.
Pork.
Mary gags, as she steps in after him into the kitchen.
“What have you done to me!???” She screams, tearing open her blouse and revealing a belly the size of two basketballs. Buttons clatter across the hardwood floor as she stands there, holding the torn pieces of cloth open.
“Now, now, let’s be civil. I did nothing, only had sex with you to help you get over your evil ex”, he smiles. His teeth are too white.
“How did you know that?” A chill runs across her spine and over her arms. Lucius’ eyes are blood red.
“I know a lot of things, Mary Sherwood”.
“How do you know my name?” Mary’s voice quivers. Her shaking hands drop to her sides and liquid warmth runs down her leg. Whatever is in her stomach kicks hard, she screams in pain. Lucius smiles at her.
“For instance, I know…” he turns back to his pork.
“…that you are going to…” she can’t move when he swings the hot oil-filled pan into the side of her head, knocking her out cold.
“Die”.

************************************************

The truck bounces down the dusty road, in its open bed is an unconscious Mary. White and gold blouse torn, an angry red welt marks the side of her face, her hair is singed but still shines ruby in the happy yellow sunlight. In the driver’s seat, Lucius is nodding to the motions of the bouncing truck. His shirt is off and his eyes are shielded by large sunglasses.
At the end of the road a large red barn stands, the paint peeling off in large patches, about twenty feet to its right, a little white cottage stands, as Lucius brings the truck to a halt in front of the barn, the door to the house flies open and five more Luciuses come out, walking briskly. They all look exactly like the man at the wheel; same height, same dark hair and stubble, same dark-red eyes and the same hog’s head tattooed onto their left pectorals. Two of them lift Mary off the bed of the truck and walk towards the barn that another two are opening. The barn is full of squealing, grunting pigs. They dump her unceremoniously into the mud.
When they come out, Lucius and the fifth are gone. They run into the house, grunting as they go.

****************************************************

Mary wakes up to darkness, chanting and pain. Six men stand above her, speaking harsh phrases. Her eyes adjust to the darkness as another cramp goes straight through her soul. They are naked.

The pigs are watching.

She looks down and sees she is naked too, covered in dark black mud. Her stomach has grown bigger, too big. The skin has been stretched to translucence and inside she can see a dark form much larger than a baby swimming. The men begin to chant louder, and pain rips through her body as her pelvic bones crack audibly. She screams and feels her throat fill with the dark copper of blood.

The pigs are watching.

The pain is radiating through her nerves, her centre is burning. Something is coming out of her and taking her life with it. Another crack fills the air as the right side of her chest collapses in, her lung fills with liquid and she begins to gurgle. The men chant even louder.

The pigs are watching.

Her vision begins to cloud over and just before life leaves her, she sees a man rise from between her thighs, covered in blood and slime.
It is Lucius.
She can’t scream, but her red hair goes a pure white. She dies with her eyes open, full of fear.

They stop chanting immediately she dies.
They, better known as Legion.
He had cast them out into swine thousands of years ago and into the swine they had stayed, waiting.
Finally, a suitable vessel presented himself to be possessed.

Legion shall never be bested again.
Legion shall not make the same mistake of remaining in one body.
Legion shall propagate; shall divide.

“Be fruitful and multiply” one of them say to the newly born man.

They smile in unison.

The silent pigs go crazy; squealing, grunting, and trampling over each other as they move to devour the pale, broken body of Mary Sherwood.

The End.

———————————————————————-

I hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I did!
Please, do leave your comments thanks!

Yetsi’at

Her tongue slowly slid out of her lips. She flicked them in the air, tasting; waiting. Her lips parted, revealing teeth that shone in the darkness.
She smiled and began singing softly, under her breath.

He sat, bare back hunched. Long, unbound white hair fell across his face, obscuring his visage. His fingers glided hesitantly on the strings of the instrument he carried on his arm. Head cocked, he listened to the sound of her voice. The soft whispering voice that sang in his head.

She sniffed the air, taking in the smell of sand and burnt spices. Her tongue slipped out again, measuring. She opened her eyes and stared out into the darkness, barely illuminated by pinprick glows of flickering flames. She saw nothing.  Eyes filmed over. No sight.

He cleared his throat.
“You shall not be afraid…of the terror..by night…”. His voice broke.

“Or of the arrow that fly by day…” she whispered out loud.

A slight wind buffeted the dark robes she was swaddled in, which hid her body frame from view. Only her head was bared.

He smiled and gently plucked his strings. He lived in his world of silence; silence broken by her voice. He plays to her voice.
He’s deaf.

The air thrummed with energy. Her tongue swayed expertly, gathering the energy to her palate, extracting the information she needed.
Assimilating.
Discerning.
It was almost time.

His fingers continued their labour of love. They kept picking and strumming even though they knew their owner would never enjoy the fruits of their labour. It soothed him. That was all that mattered to them.
Slender, pale fingers, kept working.

“It’s time” she whispered and he stopped, mid-play.They were apart on a high crag formed by a sand dune. A cool wind blew, as if in affirmation of this statement; its chilly fingers playing tenderly with her flowing mass of dark hair. She steadily walked towards him, unmindful of the sand that tended to give way under one’s foot. He watched her gracefully stand beside him and touch his shoulders. He felt shivers down his back and he inclined his head towards her.

The sound of skin splitting was stolen away by the slowly increasing howl of the wind.
Dark gashes appeared at his back and slowly, his wings revealed themselves. He stood up, great in height, instrument in hand. The paleness of his bared torso glowed in the dark. His hair took on a golden hue and his eyes glowed, a vivid shade of red. His wings, the purest of white and his instrument, the dullest shade of sienna.

Slowly, her dark robes began unfurling themselves, fabric waving noiselessly in the air. The mass of it blocked her equally pale skin from view. Her wings peeked from sheets.
“We ride” she whispered even as the unfurling continued.
He nodded.
Together, they walked to the edge and without hesitation, fell into the waiting arms of darkness.

——————————-

I watch the faces gathered around the fire. Facial expressions mirror one another.
Fear.
Confusion.
Yhuda, my older brother looks grimly into the fire, arm slung over the shoulder of his twin brother Iuda.
Tateh’s eyes are closed, eyebrows knitted. That is his thinking face, my Tateh. Little Yochanan is sitted near Tateh, eyes wide, staring hypnotised, into the fire. Mameh and my sisters are trying to get some unleavened bread ready. I can hear Mameh scolding Hephzibah. She’s a clumsy one, our sister.
I clear my throat.
“Tateh..papa…”
His eyes snap open and turn to me.
“Amram” he said, his way of asking me what ails.
“Why are we doing this?” I say in a voice barely above a whisper.
He coughs, ridding his chest cavity of phlegm and spits into the fire.
The small flames sizzle.
“Moshe Rabbenu says we shall be free people tonight. He says HaShem would deliver us. We have done all that he says. All we have to do is wait.”
I nod, even though I do not really understand.
Yhuda looks at me briefly at throws me a smile. I smile back, uncertain. Earlier, we had killed a lamb with Dod Ishkar’s family. We ate them roasted, with very bitter herbs and hard bread. Mameh had said the bread was made without the raising thing. Forget the word the Mitzrayim call it. We had eaten it in a hurry, as Moshe had told us to do. I had watched as Dod and Papa painted the door frames with the blood of the lamb killed. According to Moshe, the ceremony was to be called Pesach.
Dod had said gruffly that it would keep out Mal’ach Hamavet, when i asked what the blood was going to do.
Mal’ach Hamavet. Death.
That thought disturbs me.
Keep out Death? How? I will not ask Tateh. He is no good at explanation.
I’d ask Yhuda later.
“How will we know when we’re delivered?” I turn to ask Yhuda
He shrugs. “We will know”
Iuda nods at this and repeat the same words.
Tateh nods in approval.
We will know.
We fall back into silence.
I bring my meager belongings Moshe had said we should pack, closer and hug it, eyes open but mind lost in thought.

—————————–

Land became visible and his eyes could pick out shadows of people who passed, amongst other things.They slowed and smoothly descended at the bank of the Great River.
“Praa” she whispered to him as his wings retracted. Her robes once again moulded around her.
He nodded and together, they walked to do their duty.

———————-

Mashuy walked aimlessly, tired. He could not sit and rest.
Guard duty.
There was an increase in the number of guards tonight.
The Praa wanted to make sure Ramoses didn’t organise an assassination on the Royal Son, and then claim it as his ‘god’s work’.
It was his first night guarding the Praa.
He stood beside the door, trying not to lean. He would be whipped severely if seen by the Guard Master.
He allowed his eyes glaze, staring at nothing but the play of shadows.
Suddenly his back arched and he jerked to an upright stance.
The door opened on its own. He glanced at the other guards who stood watch, but they hadn’t moved a muscle.
He stared back at the door and was surprised to see it closed.
He thought his tiredness was getting to him.
He began pacing again.

——————————-

The demons stared at the two figures that approached, baleful, from where their statues were. The blind woman could not see them but her flickering tongue could taste their sweet, smarmy stench of corruption. Only Bastet and Hathor stood from their crouched positions, glowing in their ornaments of rubies and emeralds. They looked haughtily at the two emissaries, orb-like eyes shining dully in the dim room. They bared the way. The woman walked up to them and as she approached, the two goddesses shrank back. The woman’s hair rose from her back and like a whip, it lashed the demon goddesses away. They whimpered, eyes burning with hatred as they slunk back, failed sentries. They walked into his chamber and stared at his sleeping body, covered in silk. He, being the Royal Son. The first son of Praa.

She walked to his bedside as if with sight and cast her blind gaze on him.
The deaf man walked to the other side and gently fingered the forelock of the sleeping King-to-be, black against his bronze skin.
The deaf man looked at her and feeling her gaze on him, she nodded.
He brought forth his stringed instrument and humming, he began playing. His skin began to glow as the tune he played progressed.
The boy tossed on the bed, as if struggling. His eyes opened and he sat up with a jolt, mouth open in a silent scream.
The musician played his instrument faster, fingers flying over strings.
The boy flopped back on the bed, his writhing causing the bed to quake, bed clothes bunched around his almost naked body. He was fighting a losing battle. His spasms decreasing in intensity. With one final jerk, and a faint cry from his slack lips, his body stilled. Slowly, soul separated from flesh. Sensing the emergence, she stretched out her hand through her robes, gathering the smoke-like Ba that rose. She opened her mouth and threw it.
He stopped playing and stared at the boy, sadly.
“Come. Many more await.” she said.

—————————

Anahita opened the door and entered into her house under the cover of darkness. Her father would kill her if he found out she had just come in. She quickly walked to her room, and on second thoughts, suddenly stopped. She hadn’t seen her brother, Amen, since the sun rose. He was recovering from the boils which her father believed was inflicted on him by the accursed Ramose…or Moshe as the Habiru slaves called him.
She tiptoed into his room and poked her head in.
The torch flames had not been doused yet, she noticed angrily. The rustling of sheet drew her eyes to the figure of her father’s first boy on the make shift bed.
Her eyes widened in growing horror as she watched her brother jerk, eyes open, arms splayed to his sides.
She screamed…

——————————-

…and we all jerk in alarm.
The twins sit up, ears cocked.
Even Mameh stopped her kneading.
She walks over to Tateh and asks him what it is.
Tateh has no idea, I know, but he doesn’t say it.
“Moshe” is all he says. The name has turned into a talisman.
We all trust Moshe.
Again, the scream is repeated, this time, farther away. It is joined by another scream.
And another.
And another.We all stand, unable to hide the alarm anymore.

Yhuda voices what we had all noticed.
“It comes from the Mitzrayim side ” he whispers.
Yochanan looks more afraid  and he clings to Tateh, eyes getting wider.
Tateh disengages himself from him and walks over to Mameh.
He wants to go check what is happening outside.
“Moshe said to stay in. Remember. Mal’ach Hamavet ” she says in a hushed voice.
Tateh sighs and nods.
He motions us to sit back down while Mameh goes back to her little corner. She begins scolding Hephzibah again. It seems she’s crying. Ona, my elder sister shushes her brusquely.
This is going to be a long night.

————————————————-

They walked out of the last building.
“All done” the blind woman whispered, face turned to the sky.
“All done” he replied.
Screams of anguish rent the air but they are oblivious to it.
After all, he is deaf. He cannot hear them.
She is blind, she cannot see them.
Together they walk into the darkness, the emissaries of Death.

———————————————–

There is heavy pounding at the door and we all jump up.
Dod Ishakar’s voice asks for entrance and Yhuda is quick enough to go and open.
Tateh rises too and goes to meet his brother.
“Moshe says to move. We are free.”
I cannot believe it.
I stand, oblivious to the sudden increase in activity around me.
“Amram!” my Mameh says hastily, and I’m freed from the bondage of my reverie. I turn to face her and see she was holding a sack to my face.
“Quick!” Tateh says “If we don’t leave now, we might never leave again!”
The talk of missing our chance galvanizes us into action.
After 430 years of slavery, it seems we are finally free.
Baruch atah Adonai.

——————————————————-

Yetsi’at – The Exodus
HaShem – The Name
Tateh- Papa
Mameh- Mama
Mitzrayim- Egypt
Baset/ Haroth- Egyptian goddesses of protection.
Dod- Uncle
Mal’ach Hamavet – Angel of Death
Praa – Pharaoh.
Moshe Rabbenu – Moses, our Teacher
Ramoses- Moses’ real name according to some Egyptologists and  some Scholars.

————————————-

Originally had two tales in mind but this is a merger of both. This is dedicated to the people of HaShem everywhere in the world, celebrating the feast of Pesach (Passover).
Hope you enjoyed that. You can lie if you didn’t

The Hunger Games?

Hey! Impromptu post! Something that just came to mind as I was on my way to work! If you haven’t read or watched Hunger Games, you probably won’t fully understand this the way I want you to so do me a favour, WATCH IT! (After  you read…or before you read…whatever)

Anyway, ENJOY!

——————————————————

He slid into her, pacing himself, reveling in her languid moans.
*******************************

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to this segment of the Hunger Games event!”

(Crowd cheers)

“This event as we all know, has been going on for quite a while now. Till, date, we have only had 2 winners, emerge from this competition! Today, we shall be having a fresh batch of smerps as they are called, compete for the ultimate price, The Hand of Ova!”

(Crowd cheers louder. Cat-whistles rent the air)

“Oh. This just in. They are getting ready to come in. Ladies and Gentlemen, get ready to be blown! And here they come!! The contestants! A big cheer people!”

(Crowd cheers as the contestants swim into the narrow red tube.)

“We seem to have a huge turn out of contestants today! Let us hear what they have to say! Contestant 1! Let’s start from you. How are you feeling today!”

“Oh I’m ready to go! Flagella’s powered to the max. I know I will win this!”

(Crowd cheers wildly at the confident statement. Contestant 1 strikes a pose, flexing his head.)

“Thank you contestant 1! Let’s go over to Contestant 40! Our last contestant. How confident are you today? Will you survive and do what your predecessors have failed to do in the last three games?”

“Ah yessa. Me gonna win today. Ma momma tole me nota come back if ah lose. Me gonna win even say tis the last ting ah do.”

“Brave! Brave indeed! Though your momma failed to realise that you won’t be coming back if you don’t win as you’ll be dead! HAHAHA! Over to Contestant 15 who is a woman! A stunning one too! What’s your strategy to win honey?”

“I plan on using my charm and amazing beauty to convince the others to let me win”

“Oh smoking! Interesting strategy 15! Too bad you just revealed it so it won’t work would it? HAHAHA!”

(Crowd laughs uproariously)

“Contestant 23! You are dressed weirdly. Won’t these bags hamper your movements as you progress in the games?”

“Oh no. Just watch me. Oh just watch me. He. He. He.”

“Oh interesting chap. Creepy. And that laugh, shivers. It seems the other Contestants are wary of him too! Anyway, enough of the chit-chat. Let’s get the games started! To our contestants, good luck and may the eggs be ever in your favour!”

(Crowd roars as the contestants go to the starting line)

“On your marks. Set. GO!”

“And they’re off! OH! CONTESTANT 23 HAS TURNED ON HIS MATES AROUND HIM! HE HAS REDUCED COMPETITION BY GETTING RID OF CONTESTANTS 5, 27,24 AND 30! AMAZING!”

(Crowd screams, egging him on)

“And first to get into the Great Wall of Uteru is Contestant 1! He is one to watch out for. Deftly avoiding the obstacles and forging ahead. Close behind him are contestants 3, 6, 12…oh and 13 has overtaken 12. Are they pushing? Nice! This I must say is turning out to be a better game than the last one! The contestants are not giving up!”

(Crowd suddenly start cheering and the commentator turns)

“Oh my Eggs! It’s Contestant 23!! He is getting rid of 12 and 13 as we speak! AMAZE-BALLS!! He has left a trail of destruction behind him! ALL OTHER CONTESTANTS BEHIND ARE DEAD! HOW DID HE DO THIS! WOW! Only four contestants are left on the course! We can see Contestant 1 looking back, trying to access the situation. He is losing the valuable lead he had gotten. Contestant 3 is slowly catching up, though I’m not sure what is really egging him on, the will to win or the threat of destruction from Contestant 23! He and Contestant 1 are in the Fallopi tube!  6 is closely behind and 23 is slowly catching up to 6! Oh! Oh my! 6 DOWN! CONTESTANT 6 IS DOWN! WOW! CONNIVING 23! VERY CONNIVING!”

(Crowd screams in jubilation)

“Wow! Contestant 23 is definitely proving to be the crowd’s favorite! They are baying for blood! Uh oh! What is this? Contestant 23 slips! It seems Contestant 3 had a trap set! Wonderful! keeps getting better! We can hear the crowd groan as their Wonderboy falls. He picks himself up and waved cheerily at the crowd. Oh, he’s riling them up! I think he has a plan!”

(Crowd chanting “23! 23! 23! 23!”)

“And he’s off, full throttle! Contestant 3 has overtaken Contestant 1! Oh he’s closing on to the finish line! We can see the price in view, the magnificent Ova! Will 1 catch up before 3 reaches the last stop or does 23 have another trick up his sleeves for us! Can he stop them fast enough to win?”

(The crowd still chanting, start pointing)

“Oh dear! 23 has stopped! I think this is the trick we’ve all been waiting for! This is going to be IT! OH! HE DROPS HIS BAG AND BRINGS OUT A CONTRAPTION! WHAT IS THIS? A MODIFIED SLING? He peers into a lens and clicks!”

(Crowd goes crazy)

“HOLY GENITALIA!!! CONTESTANT 3 IS OUT! SO IS 1! WOWWIDY!! IS THERE ANYTHING TOO HARD FOR CONTESTANT 23 TO DO? HE CLEARLY GOT RID OF COMPETITION WITH THE STRANGE CONTRAPTION! A BRIGHT BEAM OF LIGHT AND WHOOSH! OH? IT’S CALLED A BAZOOKA! HOLY!!”

(Increased yell of ”23!” continues)

“And the crowd is loving it! Look at him go! Strutting to the finish line! He stops and waves at the crowd and they’re going crazy! Fantastic! I must say Contestant 23 has been a joy to watch and his devotion to his fans is just top-notch! Wo..”

(Someone in the crowd screams)

“Oh dear! OH MY PRECIOUS EGGS! Unbelievable! The most unbelievable thing just happened! CONTESTANT 23 IS OUT! I REPEAT, HE IS OUT! WE HAVE NO WINNER!!!”

(Crowd boos in disappointment)

“Uh oh the crowd is not happy! Let me explain what just happened here. It seemed Contestant 3 had not died yet! He was able to shoot something at Contestant 23 before he crossed the Finish line! Amaze-balls! And Contestant 3 died immediately after! He must have used up his last energy to fire that bolt of energy! This is what the games are about! This is why we are here! This is the HUNGER GAMES!!!”

(Crowd grudgingly claps, and soon, the applause spreads across the gallery)

“This has been an amazing experience here at the Reproductive Centre! For the fourth time, we have no winner but this undeniably has been the best game so far! How can we forget Contestant 23!”

(Crowd screams at the mention of Contestant 23)

“Ah! Wonderful crowd. Their posthumous support for Contestant 23 has been so great! Thank you very much for tuning in today! I shall be here once again, for the next round of Hunger Games. My name’s Fundus and it has been a pleasure being here today! Thank you once again and GOOD NIGHT!”

(Crowd cheers and slowly, disperses)

****************************

She sighed in satisfaction.
“Think we probably made another baby?” she whispered
He drew her close and kissed her. “I bet we did”
She smiled and nodded.
“Andy and Jamie need a new sister!”
He chuckled “Or another brother!”
“Bah! Not another boy! I need a mini me”

They laughed and cuddled, and later slept.
No baby was conceived that night.
No winner at the Hunger Games.

—————————

TEE HEE!

COMMENT!

*Gets back to work, listening to the BOSS nag*