*As promised, Here’s the second chapter in the “The Road Less Travelled Series”. If you’re just joining, I’d advice you check out Chapter 1 Don’t worry, we’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through :D*
He awoke with a shudder, he felt lightheaded, his mind a haze of so many different feelings, he felt empty and oh so wasted, he tried as much as he could to stand, his body just wouldn’t let him.
He eyes readjusting to the familiar environment, he realized he was on the cold ceramic floor of his living room, amidst a host of bottles. He pulls out his phone to check the time. Oh sh*t it’s 9am, if he wasn’t sure before, he was certain now that he’d lost his job.
He stood, waded his way past the bottles towards the bathroom. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he remembers it’s a public holiday. He feels relieved and just then it hit him, the aftermath of his alcoholic binge, he retches and throws up all over the bathroom floor.
He stares at the mess in disgust then he washes his face. He’d have to clean it up, but not yet, that would have to come after his morning smoke. Entering his bedroom, he reaches for the packet of Benson & Hedges on his table, opening it only to be greeted by nothing but aluminum foil.
WTH was wrong with him, this was the second time this week, he’d forgotten to restock his ever-dwindling supply of cigarettes. Grudgingly, he put on a shirt, rummaged through the pockets of his jeans that once lay haphazardly on his bed and took out his wallet.
He’d intended to walk to Mama Iyabo’s kiosk, but on leaving his compound, he heard wailing and the sound of angry people. With one hand firmly on his gate ready to run in if need be, he turns his head in the direction of the commotion, and then he spots a crowd a little while off.
He moved carefully towards the crowd, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse, his ears straining to hear a wisp of what was going on, all he could hear though were scattered mumblings mingled with the ever frequent screams of “Witch”, “Burn her” punctuated by sad screams and mad wailing that seemed to send chills up his spine.
He knew there was a woman involved, He tried to make sense of what she was saying and then He heard it plain as day: “Yeeeeee Modaran Ooooo, mo ti pa Omo mi Ooooo” Indirect translation- I’ve killed my daughter Ooooo” but it wasn’t the words that she was saying that scared him, it was the voice saying it, one he knew far too well.
He pressed forward through the crowd, telling himself it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be her, his had to be imagining it, his ears were playing foul tricks on him. He pressed forward until he got to a place where he could see clearly and then slowly all the blood drained away from his face, taking with it all the hopes he’d been nurturing for the past couple of seconds.
To be Continued… *Same Time Same Station lol :D*
Disclaimer: The events and characters depicted in this story and in its future installments are fictitious. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental…
Ochuko A. Akpomudjere