Today my pen takes us on a voyage. I hope you sit along for the entire ride
Episode 1
She just stood. A preternatural calm about her. Her form as still as his heart probably was.
Time seemed irrelevant, it's very incessant ticking still nagging at her faint subconscious, but it's meaning and consequence was quite nugatory.
She just stood.
She was in a haze, and amidst her mental turmoil, the words came to her, "to be forewarned is to be forearmed" what a laugh. A shaman indeed, she vaguely wished the lot of them would lay like this man on the floor-
Breathless,
Lifeless.
She could see it all in her minds eye, the drama, the headlines
"HIGH COUNCIL MEMBER MURDERS HIGH ELDER IN COLD BLOOD"
and in that moment, she was ready to spend the rest of her life locked up, not because of what she'd done but because she knew, deep down, almost subliminally, if given the same choices, she'd do it all again.
Slowly, he tugged. Not in the physical sense but deep down, at her soul. At her very essence. The, Rose Abu. The name rose to her throat, bitter like one of the concoctions she'd drunk, sweet like those strange spells she'd spoken. Too weak to hold it down, she let it fill her mouth. Her lips hadn't the power to move anyways.
He tugged. She love-hated how he now seemed to always come to her rescue. Always there.
Watching,
Guarding.
For a ghost, he certainly wasn't as restless or malicious as they painted in our African folklore. Maybe some kinds of love transcended even death. An abominable death.
He then tried to force her, awaken her mind in some way. A stronger pull. In the process, he ignited memories which had been dormant, and just right then, they were back where it all began.
She just stood. A preternatural calm about her. Her form as still as his heart probably was.
Time seemed irrelevant, it's very incessant ticking still nagging at her faint subconscious, but it's meaning and consequence was quite nugatory.
She just stood.
She was in a haze, and amidst her mental turmoil, the words came to her, "to be forewarned is to be forearmed" what a laugh. A shaman indeed, she vaguely wished the lot of them would lay like this man on the floor-
Breathless,
Lifeless.
She could see it all in her minds eye, the drama, the headlines
"HIGH COUNCIL MEMBER MURDERS HIGH ELDER IN COLD BLOOD"
and in that moment, she was ready to spend the rest of her life locked up, not because of what she'd done but because she knew, deep down, almost subliminally, if given the same choices, she'd do it all again.
Slowly, he tugged. Not in the physical sense but deep down, at her soul. At her very essence. The, Rose Abu. The name rose to her throat, bitter like one of the concoctions she'd drunk, sweet like those strange spells she'd spoken. Too weak to hold it down, she let it fill her mouth. Her lips hadn't the power to move anyways.
He tugged. She love-hated how he now seemed to always come to her rescue. Always there.
Watching,
Guarding.
For a ghost, he certainly wasn't as restless or malicious as they painted in our African folklore. Maybe some kinds of love transcended even death. An abominable death.
He then tried to force her, awaken her mind in some way. A stronger pull. In the process, he ignited memories which had been dormant, and just right then, they were back where it all began.
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Picture Credit: inkwell writers WhatsApp group.
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Victory Okoyomoh, pen name - Victory Wrights is an Optometry Student at the University of Benin. A writer, both prose and poetry, his works have been published in some anthologies and other websites. He also run an instagram poetry account - @victory_wrights
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