Category: phantom pages


Mameh


Hey!
Today’s post is courtesy of yours truly and a deviation from the norm.
Enjoy!

MAMEH

I suddenly remember the little oval scar at my mum’s shoulder. I remember it dark, larvae-like, and memories of how fascinated I had been as a child, of that little oddity makes me smile. When Mameh tied her wrapper to her chest, I’d climb in her laps and sit down, my little hands straying to the scar. I would prod it, pinch it, even attempt to open it which made my mum laugh even though it hurt her. She’d prise my fingers away and tell me to stop touching.

I never could bring myself to ask her the question, intent on discovering for myself the secret of the atypical scar.
One day, I couldn’t hold it in any longer and with the seriousness only a six year old child could muster, I blurted out the question. “Mameh what happened here?”
I remember the small smile that tugged at the corner of her dark, full lips as she  removed my prying fingers for the umpteenth time.
“A nail entered into my back” she said simply and I remember how wide my eyes had gone. I didn’t ask the obvious questions of “How or When?” even though I was burning to.
I was that kind of child.
All I did was absorb this new piece of information in silence as my mind tried to picture the nail Papa had once shown me during one of his DIY repairs, doing the damage.

After minutes of ruminating, my little mind got tired.
“Did it hurt?” I asked finally.
“Of course!” she exclaimed, laughing at the memory as her fingers played with my tough black hair that seemed to tangle at the slightest opportunity.
“Very bad?” I asked again.
“Very bad. It bled a lot.”
Again, I absorbed this new piece of information. The idea of blood gushing out like a fountain I had seen at the amusement park Mameh took me to once made me smile. Again, I had been that kind of child; fascinated with the bizarre.
I inferred at that moment that my mum had cried when she had that injury. I suddenly giggled and my mum looked at me in askance.
I was wondering what her face must have been like when she cried. Did she have catarrh dripping down her nose like I did when I cried as I begged Papa to take me with him on his journey to Yola or when Mameh put vegetables in front of me and forced me to eat the vile greenies?
“You cried mummy!”

Note, this hadn’t been a question. Was it the excitement in my voice or the look of absolute triumph in my fce? She laughed long and hard! I remember her laugh now; unrestrained and full, as if coming from the very pits of her rotund stomach. Her breasts would jiggle against me with the force of exhalation like it did that day.
“No o! I did not cry! Big girls don’t cry!”
Now, I laughed too. She was obviously lying. I didn’t know how I knew this. I just did. It was the glint in her eyes; the glint she had whenever she wanted me to help her ask Papa for money. I was an astute child; Mameh always said I had an uncanny way of ‘knowing’ things. She’d later chide my ‘knowing’ as I got older. “Ask questions! Don’t assume!” Not that I ever see the need to; my assumptions are always right.

My fascination with her scar lessened as I got older. In fact, up until now, I hadn’t thought about that oval scar in years.

I stare at her impassive face now and suddenly, the urge to feel that little mark fills my head. I lick my lips, fighting for control of my fingers. I fight the urge to stretch my hand and push the starched white shirt they’ve put on her and feel her scar like a doctor feels for a tumour. It had been our bonding point.
I giggle as hysteria tries to take chunks out of my mind and I feel my elder brother’s worried stare beside me.
I smile at him. ‘I am fine’ my smile says even though my eyes tell a different story.
I stroke her cool face, marvelling at the mortician’s skills in making her look presentable. She looks almost…alive.
For a second, I thought I saw her lips twitch, the beginning of a smile. I blink quickly and it’s gone.
It is when I feel my brother’s arms around that I realise I had been in tears.
“Big girl don’t cry” I whisper to the woman I loved since the day I ‘knew’ her. “But I am not a big girl… I still want my mummy…”

I hold her hands for a second and feeling the insistent tug from my brother, I decide to move away from the casket, making space for other viewers.
A small song she used to sing comes unbidden to my head and I murmur softly.

“Good night. Good night.
Close your eyes, Keep them safe.
For soon will be morning…”

My voice threatens to break as emotions well up in me, clogging my throat.  I cannot complete the song.
“And you would need them healthy then…” my brother murmurs, finishing the song.
I smile up at him.
“ I’m fine” I tell him again, trembling smile in place.
He pulls me into his arms and hugs  me tight as sudden powerful sobs rack my body.
He murmurs the song over and over again to me, rocking me like a child; just like the way Mameh did when she sang the song to us as children.

Akuko Ilu


Hey!
Today, we’re doing something different (again!).
So PM brought two hilarious and interesting posts to my attention and they were stories made entirely with clichéd idioms.
Check out the stories http://thisismycorn.wordpress.com/2013/02/13/cliche-touche/ and http://thisismycorn.wordpress.com/2013/02/20/the-show-must-go-on-chapter-2/
We decided I could give it a Nigerian spin so I decided to try it out with Igbo proverbs.
You are permitted to read this in Pete Edochie’s voice. Lol
Enjoy!

AKUKO ILU

Okoro woke up that morning thinking all was well in the land of the living. What he did not know was that trouble had come to break kolanut with him early in the morning.
When he heard the voice of his troublesome wife Njideka screaming his name, he knew that Ekete had revealed its buttocks in the market place.

He jumped up, tying his wrapper hastily, getting ready to face his wife; after all, the tortoise said that it always travelled with its musical instrument in case it met other musicians.

She barged into the room and with one look at her face, Okoro knew he was going to eat headache for breakfast.

He made to carry his cutlass, in a bid to escape to the farm on the pretext that he had to look for the black goat in the day time before night came but his wife had decided that morning that it was the head that disturbed the wasp that the wasp would sting.

She held on to his wrapper and screamed at him but Okoro kept his peace, seeing as it took only a matchstick to start a bush fire.

She was asking for her usual; Ego this. Ego that.

He laughed and shook his head at her. His wife was like a chicken and the chicken he was carrying on his head did not know that the road was long. Didn’t she know that present situations have taken the form of a coconut?

Ah, but he could blame no one but himself. What a young man could not see standing on top a tall Iroko tree, the experienced aged man already observed squatting on the grass mat. He had been warned by his parents not to marry Njideka but he refused and true to form, the stubborn fly followed a corpse into the grave.

He sighed.
He had to try settling her with tact because the tsetse fly perched on the scrotum had to be chased away with extreme care. Although he was physically stronger than his wife, the man who woke in the morning and found himself being pursued by a chicken ran for his life for he didn’t know whether the chicken had grown teeth overnight.

His friends always mocked his inability to handle his  irascible wife; what they called his weakness but he never minded them. Only the man who ate palm kernel in the morning understood the language of famine. Moreover, Wisdom is like a goat skin bag, every man carries his own. This was the way he chose to carry his!

He gently told her to be patient because there was no road close at hand that led to Onitsha. He tried to complain about her manners and she reminded him that it was only when a young man lacked money that he complained his wife’s manners were not good.

He laughed at her blaming poverty for her manners. Would she be any better if it were different? If the bird who had not perched on a tree gives off twenty excretions, when it finally perches on a tree, how many excretions would it give off?

She claimed she was a good person and he laughed and told her it was impossible because Dinta had not reported the lack of excrement in the forest.

After her clamouring, she began to cry, throwing herself on the floor of their room. He sighed and sat down.

She and her impossible demands.

He drew nearer to her and held her close because an adult does not sit and watch while the she-goat suffers the pain of childbirth tied to a post. He wiped her tears and told her that he could be like the rich husbands of her friends who waste money. He was only trying to count his teeth with his tongue. If he wanted to swallow a mango seed, wouldn’t he first of all calculate the diameter of his anus? He could only do the best he could.

Things would get better soon, he assured her.

She grumbled in her usual fashion but nodded and he smiled at her but in his mind, he knew she would still repeat her tantrums the next day.

After all, isn’t the yam thief carving tools to dig for yam in his mind even when you are giving him advice?

She would try again tomorrow, he knew; but for now, he was free.

Eidolon


Hey guys!

Today, I bring to you a writing experiment of some sort.
This piece is going to be read in an unusual way:
First you read straight down, and you continue the story by reading from the bottom to the top!
Quirky eh?

=========================================================================================

EIDOLON

It was

Pain to move;

His body hurt,

They had held him down for too long.

For now;

He had managed to free himself from his demons.

“I need to move on”

He tried to rise on shaky legs.

Shivering like fingers stroking his spine,

He got up.

He reminded himself.

“It’s just a dream”

“Brand him! Brand him! Brand my name on him!”

Burning pincers.

Poke. Poke.

Shrieks of anguish.

More pain lanced his body.

He stumbled as his hands stretched to find a hold.

“Mine!” A voice had cried.

Bad Dream.

Flashes of light behind his eyes.

He woke up in pain.

He woke up scarred.

 Fin.

==============================================================================

Make sense?
Hehe!

On Africa


Hey!
So, I wrote this last year but wasn’t sure of the right time (and place) to put it up but seeing as it’s a Monday, (and I love it when we think on Monday), I decided to proverbially FUCK IT and post it up here and today!
These are two stories which are allegories based on Africa and the African mentality.
Enjoy!

ON AFRICA

The Leader nodded his head. “This is great!” he said as he commissioned his new project.
His followers nodded too.
“Great!” they echoed.
The people nodded reluctantly.
“Great.” they muttered.
They were after all afraid of the Leader and dared not oppose him.
Not after what happened to some of the so called rebels.
It was fine and great.

A child, unaccompanied by his parents walked past the gathering. He stopped and stared in amazement.
Thinking it was a joke, he burst into fits of giggles.
“No it’s not great Baba! It’s Shit!” he yelled, pointing at the project. “Big heap of Shit! Shit with ribbons but still Shit!”

The Leader was silent, embarrassed. He glared at his aides standing by his side, bemused and with alacrity, they moved towards the child.
“Go away from here! Get out! Are you mad?”
They kicked dust at him, chasing him around. Thinking it was a game, the child laughed as he ran in circles with the aides, chanting “Shit! Shit!”
The people tried to hide their amusement. Men bit their cheeks to stops smiles from blooming on their faces. Women covering their faces with their colourful wrappers, soft laughs muffled.
The mother of the child came and took the child away, afraid.
“Stupid child!” she said, slapping him and dragging him home by his ears.

Silence reigned and order was restored.
The Leader looked at the people and pointed at a man.
“I saw him laugh. Take him away”
The people were silent as the pleading man was dragged away by two of the aides.
Rubbing his hands, the Leader grinned and looked back at the project.
“This is great!” The Leader said again, his smile, daring anyone to argue.
No one did.

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

A mouse looked into a mirror.
“Surely, I’m as good as an elephant. I have a tail and I have four legs. Chichichichi
He had no tusks of ivory but that didn’t bother him.
“I have sharp teeth to make up for that. Chichichichi”
He had been told an old tale about an elephant’s fear for mice.
He believed it wholeheartedly and with confidence, he decided to let the elephant know who was boss.
“Na me be de baddest. Chichichichi”
He had 31 swags after all; a pulsing G.

And so the mouse went into the cage of the elephant.
He laughed to himself as he watched the ‘clumsy animal’ wave his trunk like an ‘imbecile’.
Chichichichi! Eysss! Big for nothing! Turn this side!”
The ‘clumsy’ elephant turned at the sound and like an ‘imbecile’ it traipsed around its cage, looking for the source of the voice he was sure he must have heard.
Not locating it, the elephant decided he imagined it and went about its business.
The mouse twitched in death, crumpled beneath one giant limb of the elephant.
Chichichichi…

———————————————————————–

So rather that explain what I meant with these stories, I would rather you did that!
Would appreciate it if you give me your understanding or input or whatever you got on these!
And I hope it gets you thinking!

On Wednesday. We got Dionysus in the house!!
Stick around!
Jana!

Te Amo


So it’s the 14th of February. Yada Yada.
Everyone seems to be writing bloody love letters! Lol.
Well, this isn’t a letter but decided to try out a short love story for you love junkies.

————————————————————————————————–

TE AMO

“I…I…”
“Shh…” He held her tight in his arms, burying his face in her hair and stroking her arm. “Say no more baby. I understand” he whispered into her ear softly, a small, sad smile on his lips.
She shook her head slowly, tears streaming down her face, dampening his singlet clad shoulder.
“I forgive you Ibukun” he murmured, kissing her ear to her neck and up to her forehead. “I forgive you because I love you. It hurt but baby,I cannot go on without you.” His voice cracked and her hands shaking, gripped his arm tight.
She choked on her sob, shaking, trying to get a word out of trembling lips but he held a finger against her lips, silencing her.
“Let’s forget it all. Don’t explain. You cheated but I want us to make peace ok?”
He kissed her softly, tasting salty tears on her lips. He licked them. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”
He stroked her hair again and suddenly pushed her on the bed roughly.
He smiled serenely at her jerking body; smiled as she cried, foaming at the mouth, the poison she had ingested making a short work of her system.
Her kohl-lined eyes rolled back and her nails dug into the sheets as her limbs thrashed on the bed.
He studied the transformation on his wife’s face with absolute fascination, arms folded.
He sat beside her and stroke her tangled weave as she tried to moan through the pain. “We’ll get through this”
Slowly, her thrashing reduced, her limbs losing energy to continue that frantic movements.
He stroked her hair as he watched her seize movement.
He watched her die.

His smile broadened and he arranged her neatly on the bed, taking time to divest her of her clothing. Satisfied with his work, he jumped off the bed and rummaged through his drawer till he found what he was looking for. Dropping the found item on the bed, he unbuckled his trousers, pulling them down and off. He threw his singlet off his slim frame.
He climbed back in bed and with reverence, mounted his wife of three months.
Marital consummation.
The word floated in his head and he barked in laughter as he exercised his rights.
“We’ll make a baby. The baby you always wanted, we’d make one. Maybe a girl that looks like you…”
He talked to her, stroking her face, feeling her body stiffen beneath him.
He rode her relentlessly.
“We’d be happy together. All of us. They’d grow up to be doctors and lawyers”
His breath hitched as he was about to release his seed.
“You’ll love me! You’ll love me because I love you! My love is big enough!”
He squeezed her tight as his body spasmed, ejaculating into her.

A beautific smile on his face and he laid beside her, suddenly exhausted.
He exhaled deeply, hands tapping blindly till he felt the object he had dropped on the bed earlier. His fingers found the cold butt of the pistol and he smiled as he lifted it up.
He held her hand and dropped a tiny kiss on her palm.
“I love you…”
He raised the barrel to his head, feeling slight shivers run down his spine when the cold steel met his skin.
“I love you…”

He pulled the trigger.

O’er the Hills


O’er the Hills

The bell tolled low at the hilltop and slowly, the voices of the monks rose to the heavens in rolling waves from the monastery. They echoed over the hill and down the valley, tumbling through the rushes. The wind sighed, playing an accompaniment with the blades of overgrown grasses beating against each other softly; a susurrus of murmured hallelujahs.
The skies wept softly, joining in the instrumental as the pitter-patter of raindrops tickled the aural senses.

She stood there at the foot of the hill, red hair matted on her pale face, dull grey cloths moulded to her lithe frame, drenched in the rain; listening. Her nostrils widened, taking in the smell of the rich, damp earth. Her hands crept to her throat, eyes wide with wonder and shiny as they quivered with unshed tears. She swallowed soundlessly as the melodic humming washed over her.
Unthinking, she pushed one foot in front of the other, walking. Her bare feet dug into the wet ground, wet clomps of soil finding refuge in the spaces between her toes and in her toenails.
She trekked up the hill; stumbling but kept going, not saying a word, as if any sound from her would break the lightly woven magic.
Like a mage, without no gifts; the voices, her guiding star to where her musical Messiah would lay.
She knew no fatigue, her body knew no weariness. The sweet sounding harmony nourishing her limbs with strength when she faltered.

Suddenly, she panicked.
The nearer she walked to the monastery, the fainter the music got.
Her heart knocked in her chest hard.
She ran; her hands flailing as if trying to urge the singers to carry on, urging the music to stay.

She finally got to the old monastery and stood in front of the old wooden door, breathing hard.
The music had stopped.
She choked on a sob, her lips trembling as she struggled to contain herself.  With shaking hands, she pushed at the wooden doors until they opened, a dark womb letting her in. She walked into the gloomy chapel, feet taking care to walk carefully, as if the slightest noise could…what?

It was empty.

Her vivid green eyes suddenly went wide.

Where…?

She let out a single gasp.
Her pale face turned sickly white and like a lone wilting rose, she swayed on her feet and ungracefully, fell, a crumpled heap of the dull and the damp.
Her ears picked up faint footsteps and she tried in vain to get up, to see them.
They came into her view, brown hooded figures, making a circle around her.
She stretched a hand weakly, help? a command to continue?
She stopped short.

Bones.
They had bones where flesh should be, peeking from beneath their robes.
Her thin mouth rounded in a feeble ‘O’.

Suddenly the singing began again.
She sighed and slowly, her eyes flickered to a close, eyelashes kissing each other.

One of the figures carried her gently and slowly, they all walked, disappearing like the early morning mist after the first rays of sunshine. Their music trembled faintly in the air after they had gone, like a whispered goodbye to a lover before it too, disappeared.

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

Never go up the hill, the locals would caution their wide-eyed children.
‘Beware the music’, they would say in hushed tones. ‘Beware the hill, the snatcher of souls’.

The hill calls; the hill beckons.

Resist it…

Resist the music…

———————————————————————————————————————————————-

This was written under the influence of this ——> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKtBpuLrI2s

Listen and be calmed.

Have a lovely day.

Palet, Deliverer


Hi.
I know, crucify me. I haven’t been writing awhile now.
This would be my first proper story since October last year and hence, my first story of the year.
Hope you enjoy it!

————————————————————————————————————————————-

PALET, DELIVERER

He hid himself in the shadow of a tall column, momentarily whispering a prayer of thanks for Sethis, the Pharaoh, and his obsession with the odd pillars. When he heard the last shuffling of the feet of worshippers in the temple and the last whispers as acolytes left, he made ready to move. Silence descended and he slowly padded on his bare feet, walking familiar steps as he had every day since he began to come in here.

In his head, he counted until his feet met the first raised dais. He climbed the stairs until he got to the top, facing the altar. He sidestepped the altar and walked into an inconspicuous room at the side. Inside the room lay what he came to find.

His heart thudded in his head and his blood rushed with the euphoria that came with doing a bad deed.

He knelt blindly, feeling with his hands for the tell-tale shape of the box. When his hands brushed past an oblong object, he retraced his movements till he touched the box.

Yes. This one.

His fingers caressed the symbol of the ibis engraved.

He put his hands into the shift he wore, slipping out a key he had early pilfered from the Chief Priest. He inserted the key and twisting, he opened the box. He dipped his hand in, brushing away the slips of silk used to cover the item he was after.

At the first feel of solidity, he smiled and using both hands, he brought out the tablets of gold. His breath hitched at their surprisingly heavy weight. He stood, holding the tablets to his chest and not as quick as before, he made his way out of the room. He gingerly walked past the altar, to the stairs and down. So intent on keeping his footing, he didn’t notice the guard creeping up behind him.

“Halt!” The Egyptian guard shouted and he stopped abruptly, his heart suddenly thumping harder with adrenaline.

“Who are you? What are you carrying?”

The man stood still, mind calculating. Making up his mind, he set his burden down slowly.

The guard shifted, his stance showing he was ready for whatever happened.

“I said who are you!”

“At ease” the man whispered and the guard gasped his name in recognition. He relaxed and was suddenly wondering what had just happened when a sharp pain bloomed at the side of his head. He collapsed, and the man caught his dropping body before he thudded and alerted more people. He put his hands under his nose to check if he was still alive. Ascertaining he was dead, he picked up his burden and walked away.

He did not notice the second guard who had heard his name said and seconds later, watch his comrade get killed. The guard quickly left to report.

The man, hiding through shadows finally got to his room and with a thud, he shut the door. He dumped his load on the bed.

Walking to the table, he kindled a lamp and smiled softly at the golden tablets, glowing beautifully.

Ramoses’ eyes glinted as he eyed the Sacred Book of Thoth.

——————————————————————————————–

He crept out of the room, making sure he had hidden the tablets properly. Breathing deeply, he decided to take a stroll, allowing himself to be guided by his feet. The guards posted to the palace at night were used to the late-night strolls of the Princess’s son. With a small bow, they acknowledged him and returning their bows with a wave, he walked into the night, his nose instantly flaring at the mixed smell of spices to drive the Nile’s blood-sucking insects back and burning wood.

He walked aimlessly, allowing his fingers touch stones and pillars, reminiscing. Unconsciously, he walked through the Israelites’ quarters, deserted. They weren’t ones to hang around at night. It wasn’t even safe for them during the day.

His sandaled feet met with cobbled stones and he hummed a little tune as he walked through what would be a bubbling market in the day but was quiet now, save for a few who walked quickly into homes.

His attention was caught by raised voices and curious, he walked towards them. In an alley dimly lit my burning torches, two Israelites argued and suddenly feeling the need to play mediator, he walked to them.
“Peace my friends” he called out.

“Who are you? Who is your friend” One spat, eyes shifty with apprehension.

He walked closer and when they saw his face, they gasped.

“Ramoses!”

His face was a popular one. He smiled.

“Ye..”

“You! Killer!”

Ramoses stopped. “What? What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

“Do you want to kill us like you killed the guard? I overheard the guards just a few minutes ag..”

Fast-thinking and without waiting for the man to finish, Ramoses fled.

They knew!

How?

He didn’t allow his mind dwell on that, focusing on getting himself back to his quarters.

Suddenly he heard voices of guards coming closer.

Quickly, he used the not so-well known route he had traipsed with Rameses when they were children, beating his way to the palace. He had to get to his room before they thought to search it!

In and out of alleys, he disappeared, mind churning with apprehension. How had they known?!. Soon, he was outside the window of his room. With care, he climbed and praying he had not shut it from the inside, he shifted the wood aperture and tumbled into his room.

Quick, he searched for the tablets and finding them, he breathed a sigh of relief. They had not been in there yet.

He wrapped the tablets in bales of clothes and quickly changing, he put on a Israelite cloak he had bought out of a whim, after finding out about his secret parentage. Disguising himself with soot to darken his hair and roughen his face, he hefted the clothes and grimaced at their weight.

He opened the window and stumbled out.

As he shut the window, he heard the clamour of guards just at the door and as the window thud shut, they burst open.

Quickly, he disappeared, making his way out of Egypt.

Any place was better than Egypt…for now.

—————————————————————————————————————-

Zipporah looked at the man who had been with them for the past two week out of the corner of her eyes with distrust. He had come, claiming to be an escaped Israelite from Egypt. She didn’t know much about the world but what she knew was that no Israelite escaped from Egypt. He claimed to be called Moses and he wouldn’t let her help carry his sack when he had come. In fact, with the way he had acted when she had offered to help with the sack, she knew he definitely had something to hide.

Hmmm…

She watched him laugh with her father Jethro as they shared lunch.

Just who was he and what secret was he hiding? Why was he abusing her father’s hospitality by claiming to be who he wasn’t?

Curiosity got the better of her and suddenly, she got up and slowly walked out of the tent. Out, she quickly ran to the tent they had set up for him as her father’s guest after he had helped them with the thieving Amalekites who came to steal her father’s sheep.

She crept in and eyeing his bedding, she found the mounds of cloth.

She walked to it and uncovering, she gasped.

Gold.

Glimmering, shining gold.

Even more fascinating were the scrawls on them she was sure were letterings. She could not read. She had always been fascinated with words but her father never understood the need for her to learn, seeing as she was a woman. He had asked her to put more effort into being pleasing enough to be a bride when she had asked to be taught.

She sighed as her fingers caressed the engraved words.  Taking the second tablet, she stared at it in awe.

Beautiful.

The third was a much thinner sheet and had pictures of men and women with animal heads. She stared, unaware of the shadow that grew behind her back.

“You looked through my things” Ramoses said softly.

She jumped; dropping the sheet she had in her hands in a hurry and getting up, suddenly cautious of how small the tent was. Was he going to harm her?

She cleared her throat. “Who are you?” she asked, staring at him warily.

“You have seen the book.”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to where she had dropped the tablet. “I cannot read but I know real gold. What is an Israelite doing with something…like this?”

He eyed her “And since when did I have to answer to a mere slip of a girl?”

Her eyes flash with anger and she stood to her full height. “Since this mere slip of a girl can tell her father that his guest could be a thief.”

He stared at her and she stared right back, as if daring him to call her bluff.

“Ramoses. Son of Nepheri, Princess of Egypt…or so I thought”

She laughed in derision. “A Prince. Really. I might be a woman but I am not stupid.”

He frowned. “I am…was a Prince”

“Am. Was. You lie.” She sniffed, folding her hands under her arm.

“Would a common Israelite have this kind of book in his possession?”

“You stole it” she hit back.

He sighed, exasperated. “Stole a treasured book? How does a lowly Israelite get into a Holy Temple to steal a Book of Gold?”

She paused, biting her lip in thought. She suddenly stared at him with renewed interest.

“You’re not lying?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I am not, woman!”

He sat down and rearranged the bundle, pushing the golden tablets back into the fold of the cloth.

“A former Prince of Egypt…” she murmured in thought, gaze faraway. His shuffling brought her back to the present and she turned to him. “How?”

He looked up. “How?”

She settled herself down on the bedding. “Yes! How? It must be a fascinating story, like the type Papa used to tell us as kids!”

He looked into her inquisitive eyes quivering with excitement and shook his head.

“I am sorry. My story isn’t a child’s fairy tale. And it is not safe information”

“I know it is no child’s story and I am not a child. I want to know. I yearn to know. I am imprisoned here by my duties to family. Only by stories can my mind soar free”

“Zipporah, there are some things you cannot know. It isn’t safe”

“Oh please Moses! Who would I tell? My sisters? They have no other dream but to get married to the man Papa chooses for them. I promise on my life to keep your secret safe” she pressed her hands to her heart solemnly.

He looked at her expectant face and smiled a little.

“Well, I was a Prince, yes. I was born a Prince, brought up a Prince in the temple of Ra himself, I was an acolyte. A scholar. With no chance of taking the throne, I buried myself in the study of our gods. I immersed myself in the study of the book you just held.”

He paused, mind far away.

As she opened her mouth to urge him, he continued.

“I found out I wasn’t a prince after all. My mother…foster mother told me. I had been drawn out of water. I sought out my real parents but couldn’t find them…Israelites of the House of Levi.”

She stared at him in fascination. “What is Egypt really like? Does the Queen bathe in milk like the merchants that come around here say? Is her skin as white as alabaster?”

“Egypt…” he sighed. “Both beautiful and deadly. Like the Egyptian snake. And the Queen might bath in milk but you’re prettier than she is.”

She shushed him, trying to hide a small smile.  “And why did you take the book? What is in it?”

He thought.

“Why indeed” he murmured.

Lying on the bed, he hooked both arms under his head.

“I took it on a whim. Maybe the god the Israelites worship would show me what to do with it.” He said sardonically. “There has always been talks about a deliverer among them. Maybe…maybe I took it for him. What if he came? It would be a good weapon against the Egyptians…”

She shook her head. “What is in the book? How can you go from an Egypt- loving Prince to a Egypt- hating Israelite in a matter of days? It is…not right.”

He studied her intently, mind suddenly wondering how he never noticed how lovely her lips were. Sure, she wasn’t as pretty as her other sisters but there was something about her inquisitiveness that gave her a strong aura.

At that moment, he decided she was a good woman.

He smiled at her. “As I said, Egypt was both beautiful and deadly. Even as a Prince, I had no love for Egyptians. The cruelty…” he paused, brows creased in a frown. “I once had dreams that I would somehow be the Pharaoh and the first thing I’d do would be to give slaves their freedom.”

He laughed; short and bitter.

“And the book?”

“Magic.” He smiled mischievously. “Magic of the Earth, of the skies. Words of Power. That is what is in the book.”

She looked at him, trying to see if he was joking. Something about the book she had touched left her with a feeling that he wasn’t.

She shivered.

“Magic…” she murmured.

A month later, they departed as husband and wife. He married her to ensure his secret remind close to home; She married him for adventure.

They journeyed together to Egypt, where his destiny awaited him.

—————————————————————————————————————

“I require an audience with the Pharaoh” Moses said boldly to the court official.

The bald, fat man eyed the Israel in his presence with such contempt. “The Pharaoh does not speak to slaves.”

Moses smiled. “Tell him this slave holds The Book.”

The official raised a pencilled eyebrow. “The Book?”

“Thoth” Moses whispered and the countenance of the man change from surprise to fear to apprehension. He stared harder at Moses, as if trying to strip away the beard and the premature lines on his forehead. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Ramoses!” he gasped.

“Moses. Tell him, Moses.”

Ramses sat on his throne, eyeing the man before him.

“You came back. Where is the book?”

Moses smiled at his one-time friend. The look on the Pharaoh’s face showed exactly what he thought of their friendship.

“It is where it is, until we reach an agreement. Harm me, and you’ll never find the book. You will never find it if you try to be sneaky too. If you threaten my life, I would teach the Israelites the words of Thoth and we’d see how it feels to be mastered, Ramses”

“Pharaoh to you” Ramses muttered furious

“You will meet my demands and then, you can have your Book.”

Pharaoh eyed him.

“And what are these…demands.”

“Free the Israelite slaves.”

Ramses jumped off the throne in ire. “Impossible!”

Moses watched him as he paced, his short brown legs pumping furiously as they took him up and down.

“Impossible!” he sat back on his throne.

Moses shrugged.

“I could reinstate you as Prince. You could have the finest Princesses from Ethiopia for wife. Gold! Rubies! Jade!”

“Free the Israel” Moses murmured.

Angrily, the Pharaoh called the guards who he had dismissed to have a private word with the renegade thief.

“Take him out of here but do not harm him”

As he was being led out, Moses turned.

“You’ll send for me”

Ramses eyed his back as he left, churning inside.

Two days later, Ramses sat agitated, fingers drumming on the elaborately gilded armrest. He heard croaks and gritted his teeth as a frog leapt on his arm. He swiped it with irritation, yelling for a guard to kill it.

“And where is the whoreson!” he yelled and the court officials nervously twitched, unsure of what to do.

“He would be with us soon, Pharaoh”

He hissed, spitting. “Frogs. Using our magic against us. The cheek! I should kill him!”

“But Pharaoh!” One of the plump officials with a high reedy voice quipped. “He said he’d destroy the book if we killed him!”

“Yes! Yes! Bring him here already” the Pharaoh angrily muttered.

A second later, the tall arrogant frame of Moses filled the hallway and he walked to him.

“Ramses. You sent for me.”

“Of course I sent for you! How dare you!” The Pharaoh’s eyes widened with rage as he tried to control his temper. Breathing deeply, he calmed.

“Banish the frogs to the Nile”

Moses pointed at the Head Sorcerer who stood among the officials. “He is a sorcerer. He can do it.”

“He could have done it had you not commanded ALL THE FROGS IN THE NILE OUT!”

The Head Sorcerer threw Moses a look of disgust. “Cheap tricks” he muttered.

Moses turned to him. “Cheap tricks? Or maybe the god of Israel is using me to punish you” He smiled and turned to the Pharaoh. “Free the Israelites and I will banish the frogs”

“No!” The Pharaoh’s voice boomed.

Moses chuckled and turned to leave.

“Stay right there!” Pharaoh commanded he paused. “Yes?” he asked without turning back.

“Fine! Go! And return the Book!”

Smiling, Moses left and the officials gathered round their King.

“But Pharaoh!…”

“You can’t…”

“Free them?…”

“SILENCE!” The Pharaoh commanded and a hush fell.

He looked at his subjects and smiled. “Of course I would not release the Israelites. But he doesn’t know that…”

He chuckled.

It wasn’t long before Moses made another appearance in the courts of the Pharaoh.

“Darkness! Hail! Locusts! Turning the Nile to blood! A curse on you and the filthy Israelite woman that birth you! A curse on the people you champion! Go! Go! Out of my sight! And give us our Book!”

Without any acknowledgement, Moses went back to the Israel quarters, where the Elders of the community waited.

“Would he release us?!…”

“Are we free to go?…”

Moses held a hand up at the clamouring. When it was quiet, he sat down.

“He would not release us.”

The Elders groaned, cursing.

Moses held a hand up and again, they hushed.

“I will force his hand and this time, he will let us go” he murmured to the gathered men.

“What will you do Moses?…”

“What power do you use?…”

“Why does the Pharaoh fear you!”

Moses waited till the noise quietened.

“It is the power of a God” he whispered. “And a God will deliver us. Make ready. Three days from now, we will leave the land of Egypt.”

“How!…”

“Tell us Moses!…”

“Deliverer! The Deliverer!…”

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

Moses sat in his room, the golden book on the table. The lamp illuminated the strange writings.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and let it out. Slowly, he began to recite, arms wide, voice in whispers.

A shadow made of dark matter formed and whispering commands, the shadow dispersed.

He sat down shaking, wiping off the beaded sweat on his brows. He closed his eyes and muttering, a bright light appeared on his table.

Seconds later, he covered the tablets and made it ready.

The Pharaoh would let them go now, His Book to be returned.

He made ready and headed to the Palace.

His attention would be needed.

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

“You killed my son. My only son.”

“You caused it, Ramses.”

“You killed the first son of my people…for Israelite slaves”

“Can we go now?”

Ramses nodded, resigned “Go. If I see your face again Ramoses, you will surely die. Drop the book here. Drop it and leave. You and your accursed people!”

Moses dropped the bundle on the table and left.

Outside the courts, he laughed, face alight with victory.

“Freedom!” He screamed.

“Freedom!”

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

They left with all they had, leaving nothing behind.

“Your day of Deliverance has come” he spoke in a loud voice.

The people roared in approval, shaking the foundations of Mizraim.

430 years in slavery and they were finally free.

“Freedom!” Moses cried.

The people of Israel echoed his cry.

“Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!”

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

“What do you mean!?”

The Head Sorcerer swallowed. “Pharaoh, this is not the Book of Thoth.”

The Pharaoh touched the golden tablets. “Feels real. Explain!”

The sorcerer closed his eyes, whispering and the air shimmered.

On the table where the golden tablets were before, laid three bricks.

The silence evaded the air. Then the Pharaoh let out a roar of rage, causing the sorcerer to fall back in fright.

The guards rushed in in alarm.

He sat on back on his seat, head pounding.

“Summon the Commander of my army.” He whispered. “Summon the commander of my chariots.”

The guards rushed out and the Sorcerer took the opportunity to make his escape.

“Free my slaves. Trick the Pharaoh. He will surely die…” he murmured, making a tight fist with his hands.

“He will die!”

He slammed his hand on the desk vehemently.

“Ramoses!”

 

Forty Years Later.

Moses walked to the Tent of Meeting, followed behind by the young man and would-be successor he had chosen, Joshua, who had a bag slung over his shoulder. He breathed heavily at the weight.

“What is in the bag?” he asked for the umpteenth time that night and Moses ignored him.

Inside the tent, Moses commanded him to leave the bag and step out.

Once out, Moses gingerly moved the bag into the Holiest of the Holies.

He stopped to admire the golden Ark of Covenant which was placed in the middle.

Slowly, he pushed off the lid of the ark.

Forcing his old muscles to move, he hefted each tablet placing them into the Box.

When the third sheet was in, he breathed hard, wiping his forehead. With shaking hands, he pulled back the lid to the Ark of the Covenant.

The next day, he gathered the High Priest and Levites.

“The Ark of the Covenant must never be opened. It is a Symbol of a God’s Power and Knowledge” he whispered to the small gathering. “It shall be carried by the Levites after they have sanctified themselves”

They nodded in agreement.

Moses sighed and closed his eyes, satisfied.

He had found a new home for the Sacred Book of Thoth.

The End

——————————————————————————————————-

Fact or Fantastic Fiction?

Tell Me Your Dreams


First post of the New Year and it is going to be a random.
Sorry guys. Lol.
Restless (as usual), and hysteric.
I should say happy but ever been so happy you want to scream and cry and it becomes almost like a physical pain? Yup, that’s hysteria and that’s where I am now.
Also battling the oddest waves of chest pains that bring on panic attacks of me thinking I’m dying which in turn brings on my heart palpitation which according to Google, means I’m either suffering from anxiety, got kidney failure or I am a walking heart attack.
Yea, I pick anxiety, thank you.
Not writing this to bore you about my predicament (or have you worry. I am fine)
Just need to dampen my hysteria a little.

Tell me your dreams.
Literally.
I’ll tell you a few of mine. Of course, my bad dreams.
Feel free to interpret or psychoanalyse or fear for my sanity.
Lol.
This is me, opening a doorway into my mind.

I begin.
First dream that comes to mind right now is a crazy one that had an odd ending. I say odd, because I lost consciousness in the dream and in real life I suspect. And for the life of me, can’t figure out how it ended. I hit blanks when I try to remember.
They chased me. Six men. I ran but they chased and caught me.
They weren’t exactly men; creatures, lumbering creatures.
They took turns hitting me and tore my clothes into pieces. I screamed and screamed.
They held my arms and feet,dangling me in the air and the first thing got ready.
Once I saw him fumbling with his trousers, I knew what would happen.
Somehow, I forced myself to lose consciousness. Still cannot remember what happened from there. I cannot remember waking up after that dream.
So vivid and just at that spot, black.
Forcing myself to remember used to get me panicked and I’d have goosebumps so I stopped trying to remember.

Another disturbing one, I’d blame on my dabbling into the Occult.
Before you panic and say “Hey! Witches and Wizards!”, calm down.
Occult simply means hidden or secret knowledge.
I am a believer in the spiritual, the supernatural. I am curious so I always want to know.
What lies beyond this world. What we can’t see. But some things are called Secret for a reason.
Anyway, I have a lot of mystic, esoteric texts.
The infamous 6 and 7 Books of Moses (which is overrated in my opinion), Book of this and that.
I read these books. I wanted to know, not practice.
Wasn’t interested in summoning anything. I thought I was safe.
The dream.
I was at the door in the night and the Devil asked me to open up.
How do I know it was the devil? Because I was scared.
My body was shaking.
Pitch dark and swirls of red.
“Open the door” he said.
I couldn’t even pray. I couldn’t speak. I was cowering in a corner, teeth chattering, tears.
He spoke to me in my mothers voice; my brothers voice.
Even cried like a baby.
Open the door.
Then he pulled me.
I was getting up without meaning to.
I wasn’t in control of my body.
I was screaming incoherently as my hand reached the door. I kept screaming as I slid the bolt.
I woke up.
I woke in tears. My body shaking. Cold sweats. Covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming. Eyes wide.
Shook like a leaf for an hour our more.
Didn’t sleep for the rest of that night.
Terror.
Funny thing, I used to hear screams. Not asleep. In the day time. Busy with work and suddenly screams of tortured people. They spoke in different languages. Mostly Chinese and German.
Somehow, I understood what they were saying.
Save us! Save us!
This isn’t a dream.
Anyway, i quit with the books. Curiosity killed the cat.
Lol.

Mind reacting to that. Heart pounding fast.
Deep breaths.

Was gonna tell a third but meh. These two are enough.

Psychoanalyse me?
Tell me your dreams.

Day 26


I hope everyone had a good day yesterday- eating,drinking et alia. I am jealous. No. Really. I am hungry. (  ,_,)

As today is Boxing day, this is officially the day you get to open all the presents you receive yesterday. Or a day to get over your hangover if you’re Black. Negroes don’t do gifts. -_-.

Let us all take today to remember the little  gifts we have in our lives; the ones we often take for granted.

The gift of Life: You’re alive today. Someone didn’t live to see today. Someone almost didn’t live to see today. Take a little time out to thank God/Science/Voodoo/Whatever you believe in for the fact that you breathe.

The gift of Love: Not particularly Eros. Love for family. Love for friends. Love for the lovers. Love for spouses. Let us appreciate our ability to feel something. Being dead inside isn’t fun.

The gift of Internet: Lol. YES! Thank heavens for my internet provider without whom I’d have failed a lot of school work. 😀

The gift of sustenance: There is hunger and there is starvation. You are not starving (I hope). Be grateful for that.

The gift of Good friends: Good friends are good. Never neglect those people that are always ready to help when you’re in trouble. They might never talk to you often (like me) and they might even forget your birthday (like me) but you know if you call for help, they’ve got your back. Bless God for them.

The gift of a smile: Can’t explain this. Linked tohappiness.

There are so many gifts we can appreciate. Sight, Sound, Colour, Books! LORD BOOKS! THANK YOU!
We might not have gotten the latest iPhone or the latest fashion accessories but hey, material things don’t matter much when you think about the fact that some people have these things but are not alive to use them.

Anyway, I am done!
I will see you when I see you.
Leave your curtain open; Love watching you sleep. -.-

Day 24 – The Bold Chicken


Hello! It’s a beautiful Monday morning! Kidding. -_-.
It’s a gloomy Monday and what better to boost moods than a story? Yes, I have a story!
Silly-ish! Enoy!

———————————————————————————————————-

THE BOLD CHICKEN

Obinna woke up and for a second he had no idea what day it was.
Then he remembered…and grinned. One looking at him would have described his smile as almost feral, yellow teeth glistening dully between dry, cracked lips.
“Today na today!” he murmured as he got out of bed – an old mattress, soft with age.
He yawned, stretching his arms as far as they could go up his head- which wasn’t far, considering his short stature.
‘Small stout’ his friends would call him in jest.

He walked over to the black polythene bad near his bed and after a search, punctuated by his yawning, brought out a white singlet which he donned quickly and left the room. He walked into a sparsely furnished and dark living room and peered closely at an unremarkable clock on the wall. Muttering and pointing, his face was scrunched up in concentration.
“Aha!” he whispered at last, smiling in satisfaction, as if he had just deciphered a particularly difficult code.
“It is thirty past six” he murmured, thirty pronounced ‘taati’.
With another smile, he left and walked into what seemed to be a kitchen. He scurried around in the darkness and came out triumphant with a knife and a bowl.
“Jezas good morning Sir” he sang softly under his breath as he used a key he must have retrieved from the living room to open the door. He walked back in to drop out and came out a few second later, picked the bowl with the knife and walked outside into the morning.
He took a deep breath and smiled, remembering his village. It almost smelled the same, thanks to the grassy pasture his Master and his wife had grown around the compound.
With a spring in his step, he walked to the back of the house, whistling a Christmas tune under his breath.
He got out a stool from a corner and placed it beside the gutter.
He brought the knife and with flourish, swiped it on the cemented ground.
He grinned, part excited about the crisp sound the metal made as it came in contact with the ground.
“Anyi ga eri sha sha! All correct Sah!” he said excitedly, shaking his shoulders in glee. “We will eat prenty!”
He swiped the knife a few more times, and testing its blade with his fingers, he decided it was sharp enough.
He got off the stool, knife on hand and walked till he got to a metal cage where cluckings were heard.
A hen poked its head out of the bars of its cage and Obinna gestured to it.
“Today na today!” he jumped up and broke into a dance, wriggling his waist as he made stabbing gestures to the floor.
“You willi dah-co-rate our prate today” he chortled.
The hen stared at him calmly, head twitching every few seconds.
“Anyi ga eri gwo gwo! All correct Sah!” he mock saluted at his poultry audience and burst into gales of laughter.
“When I serve Oga and Madam food today, I will sarut like dis and say All correct Sah!” he told the hen.
He cradled the knife under his armpit and opened the cage.
As he reached inside to grab the hen, it flew into his face, causing him to shriek in surprise, dropping back and allowing the hen escape.
“Chimo!” he shouted, and gave pursuit, knife in hand, swearing oaths on how he was going to kill it mercilessly.
The hen eluded him, managing to slip from his fingers every time he tried to grab a hold of its feathers.
“I che n’inwa anya! You think you’re bold ookwa ya!” he muttered furiously, trying to herd the taciturn hen to the back of the house.
It made for the front gate and his eyes widened in realisation and horror.
There was a gape just at the base of the gate where the hen could slip through. He had been told to fix it since by his Master but had postponed it due to laziness.
True to word, the hen shimmied through the opening, and Obinna caught it- ALMOST!
The hen disappeared and he heard its triumphant clucking as it ran its merry way off.
Tears came unbidden to his eyes add he imagined the reaction of his Master when he’d wake up later to find out that the Christmas chicken he had bought -quite expensively, as he boasted to his wife- had just run away.
Even more sorrowful, the fact that for the first time in many years, he won’t be eating chicken on Christmas day.

——————————————————————————————-

Eshinshin carry pomo!
Lol dunno why I felt the need to type that!
How is everyone enjoying their holiday? Good?
Well I’ve got no holiday. Got work today. Yes, My boss is a Grinch but hey! Free lunch!
\(^.^)/
You have a lovely day and be safe!!!

%d bloggers like this: