Foregone (Fiction)

Foregone

Fiction


It is abominable, that which I do.

But I hurry to it anyway.

I follow the stream by the white light of the moon, stilling myself at every sound of crunching leaves or rustling bushes. I have wrapped myself in the darkest Ankara, on top of it, is my father’s hunting tunic, darker than night. I have smeared his tobacco and spice behind my ears to ward off any strangers or their dogs.

A traveling stranger is less interesting if she smells of tobacco and roots, than of hibiscus and lemons.

In my hand, is my shepherd’s crook. It whacks and chokes, whether it be sheep or person.

This is no man's land, distant from mother's watchful eye. Any assailant would be out of range of father’s arrow.

Now well into the forest, I hear the faint roar of the waters and my heart races. Quickly, I begin to climb the hill.

It is dark but I know where to place my feet, where to grip and brace, where to heave and lift. The darkness amplifies the thunder of the rushing waterfall of Arè. It surrounds, it terrifies. It is enough to fail a heart.

I remove my sandals and wade into the river, she welcomes me and draws me in along the current. I hold unto familiar stones, slippery and some tufty with growth, my feet find ground on the sandy bed. I feel for the rocks and climb out into a cave.

At last.

He is there waiting.

He rises to his feet. My heart thumps, my belly flutters.

Tórę..

The Prophesy (Fiction)

The Prophesy (Fiction)

“A prophesy is not destined to occur,” Nané says. She stares out of one good eye at Mother and I.

“It is only one of the possibilities the spirit man sees.”

Mother is silent. She bends over and jabs a piece of wood into the fire underneath the pot bubbling with ewedu. I busy myself sieving the yam flour, shooing my baby sister from the powder every other minute.

Nané gestures with her cup of palm wine,”It is the choices we make that help those visions along. Even the spirit man knows this.”…

Barabbas: Beautiful Exchange

It is good Friday. Barabbas is in prison and is waiting execution after committing several crimes within the Province of Judea. He is a member of the Sicarii brotherhood- a fanatical religious sect which strongly oppose the occupation of the Roman empire in Jerusalem. Waiting in his dungeon, he is visited by his ghosts. The following is a fictional account of what occurred.

Wedding Ops (Fiction Micro-series) Entry 5

Mayokun drove slowly in the shade of the trees that lined the drive way. Upfront, there was a road block made up of three large cubes of grey concrete with chalked-in graffiti .

“Park here.” Flavian said. She pulled over on the side, a few feet from the blockade. Two uniformed men stood beside a small grey kiosk on the other side.

Their heels knocked and their hands went up in salute when they saw Flavian. “We walk from here.”He said as his hand shot up in response. …