Rotimi stared at the brown arch on his favourite shirt, a rainbow stripes designer shirt. His breath came in short gasps, his nose flared, his jaw and fists clenched. He didn’t know what to do with Nneoma. He was getting fed up and the incessant corrections he’d issued on her were beginning to drive him insane. It was like teaching a babbling baby to talk.
“Nneoma!” he shouted. Continue reading Waterloo’s Beast
Okpararebisi used the maid as shield as he made his way to the portal.
Ómalichanwa quickly tossed the pieces of leaves. Okpararebisi hit a wall; only one of his legs made it through the portal before it closed. She held her breath as she thought of what to do. She had no right to inflict harm on him, especially since the gods touched him. It was their decision to send the crows and the ravens, so he wouldn’t have an afterlife. Continue reading Rhythm of the Wild Drum
Eriri suspecting something was wrong ran into the portal with one hand on his sheath but fell through to the other side of the marshland they were standing on. He knelt down and sobbed. He hadn’t afforded himself the opportunity to do so since his wife had died but now he let loose, forgetting that there was no pride in a man crying. He felt like a coward, not defending his daughter when he was supposed to. A few minutes later, he felt warm like he was covered in bear fur and looked at himself, wondering why he was crying like a woman and why he was on his knees. He shrugged it off and got up. He walked ahead of the group to find out where they were and tried to shrug off the feeling he was forgetting something at the same time. Continue reading Rhythm of the Wild Drum
That night, while Eriri slept, an eerie tune played outside. Ómalichanwa listened until she heard a voice within the music.
“I have been on a long journey. Can a wanderer find rest in your hands? Can you hear my plea? If you can’t I’ll sing louder. Can a wanderer find solace in the kindness of your heart? I have wandered from dusk until dawn, and I have roamed from sunrise to sunset, from Moons to Sunshines for cycles of seasons, in search of one such as yourself. So I pray, can I find solace in your bosom? I beseech you, hear the plea of a forlorn one.”
Ómalichanwa craned her neck and whispered, “Who are you?” Continue reading Rhythm of the Wild Drum