Remember I told you of a girlfriend of mine who asked me to write a tragic-comedy ?, yeah she is a really good writer. She writes stories while I'm the poet.
Check out one short story she sent to me.
RIDERS AT DUSK.
The sound of hooves is loud, they are coming.
PART ONE.
The sound of covers clacking over pots, plates being mounted with heaps of food, children crying for their mother’s breasts, the men back from the farm talking over gourds of palm wine. The atmosphere is serene and peaceful, they are happy. Or they seem to be.
Its past six and the tension begins to unravel, the poundings become faster, the children become quieter, the naggings become inexistent and the gourds are held with shaky hands. The wind blows and the frogs croak, the food rushed and the doors locked and then silence, its 7’ 0 clock.
The sound of hooves are heard, for they are here. The riders.
Who is he who is brave enough to stay outside at dusk? Their silent movements are heard as they go from house to house, from corner to corner waiting to satisfy their hunger. Hunger for blood.
PART TWO.
“Ilogba please don’t do this to me, you’re my only son”
“Mama, I have come of age, I am a man now”
“Ilogba, those things outside are not human, they are blood sucking monsters. They took away your father, the love of my life”
“Mama that is more reason why I have to go, my father must be avenged”
“ ilogba, your father will be avenged during the day of the great judgement, when the gods shall come back to this world and cast those who have ignored their ways into INA, the great fire that never dies.”
“Mother, the gods don’t care about us mortals. They are up in the heavens drinking wine while we serve as their entertainment”
“Mother, avenge my father I must, I will not wait for any god to do so for me”
He turned and hugged his mother.
“I want to eat agbono soup tomorrow mother, I will be there to do so”
He walks away
“Ha!! Ha!! Ha!! My ilogba” she cries silently.
PART THREE
Sniff! Sniff! Sniff! The scent of human is overwhelming. The riders drift slowly towards it, their eyes gleaming with hunger, their bodies tense for the kill and they sight it. Food!
Ilogba comes handy with his lucky matchete and his gun from the white man. Angry, proud, vengeful as he sights them, those evil killers, his steps falter, his hands begin to shake. They close in on him, with a low breath he pleads with his father to assist him. He uses the machete on the first one, it screams with anger, it tries to get back up but a machete meets its heart. The death of their member angers them, they all rush in for the kill, he swings, shoots, swings some more but the fingers keep clawing, his blood keeps dripping, his skin keeps tearing and his bone keeps popping. At last, he falls on his knees and he sees the hands going for his heart, those scary claw like hands, he wishes he had listened to his mother. He screams out in agony, the last cry!
Ilogba wakes up with a jolt, his heart beating fast, it was all a dream.
Hope you love it 💓
