A Taste of Death
I tripped and dashed headlong striking my brow on the
hard concrete floor of our lodge. It ripped open. I felt rest clutching me tightly on
the ground but the throbbing of my heart against my chest could afford me no leisure. I pushed myself up. Picking my
strength from where I left it I began limping; blood had mixed with sweat. My face
was covered in a pool of blood. The salty taste of sweat struggled for a way
into my mouth. I kept on blowing it off. The briny taste of my blood and sweat
mixture nauseated me.
‘Maybe I have
lost him,’ my mind wandered trying to
find a reason to relax a bit. But such leisure was far to be gained at that
moment. My heart could need a million seconds to pace down its throbbing
marathon. Tears of helplessness blurred my vision. I could hardly glide a leg
to make a move. I knew at that moment that I couldn’t make it alive. Who could
imagine how I struggled with my killer? A storm of thought filled my mind. I gasped
for breath but the air in the building
clogged in dread. I was writhing in pain. I watch my potential killer smoking
stinks of fury as he strode towards me. His dagger that curved slightly on its
blade dripped of liquid of a crimson tinge.
‘Please sir, I don’t know where they are,’ my voice
hung at the edge of my strength.
‘You shall pay for their lives with yours since you
want to be a hero,’ his voice reeked of fumed anger. I could only move my hands
above me as I lay down there helpless. He had earlier struck me with his dagger
while I was in my study.
I came back that evening and felt weird when I entered
the compound. An unsettled smoke of danger suspended in the air. I couldn’t
make sense of it ‘cos my hostel had always bustled with activities of youths.
It had never frozen into a graveyard quietude like that evening before. Pebbles
lined through the corridor. The newly painted wall was redesigned with scratched
of groping fingernails struggling to escape. ‘How mad the landlord would be
when he sees this,’ that was all I could make of the signs. I hardly noticed
the stains of blood, the debris of bottles and footwear that lay scattered at
each corner. Some people’s door stood ajar, even that of the famous secret
master. But I felt strangely courageous to continue whistling with my mouth and
lunged straight to my room. My room choked with the pong of Indian hemp. ‘Who could this idiot be,’ I clipped my nose
with my thumb and index fingers while my eyes rummaged through my room. It
stood in a mess. My neatly piled clothes were littered
on the ground, my books were in shreds. Nothing obeyed its normal position.
My eyes flickered as my mind bounced back to the scene
before I entered my room. ‘Something must be wrong here, let me go and inform
the security…’ I was still mouthing some words when I felt a sharp pain on my
back, very close to my shoulder blade. I turned. It was a huge dark man who
seemed to have been standing behind my door all those while. His eyes bulged
out of his head. He had an athletic built body and I felt like a mouse in his
grip. His veins sat on his skin revealing strengths and energy. My voice shrunk
to release a screeching sound of pain. I threw my left hand to my back to feel the
pain but the flush of blood and the rage in his eyes told me just one thing.
Run.
‘Where are those guys living in room 7?’ his voice
bubbled.
‘Who are you?’ I writhed in pain. A thrust of slap
descended on my shin. I couldn’t count it but I felt spun many times before
hitting the ground. My room seemed like a war room with the Calendar wallpapers
hanging as angry spectators. I didn’t need his face or my flooding blood to
tell me to run. I swiftly wiggled out of the room. Outside was still a desert
arena. He reached for a 60cl Fanta bottle in my room and sent it crashing on my
head. It sent a stifling sensation of pain down my spine. I craved for an
escape from my very body. A painful thought was flooding my mind, ‘what must
they have done, quite alright they are notorious but to warrant such murderous
beast scares the mind to imagine.’
My mind fired with thoughts
of death. I could feel death drawing so close in a rocket speed. I began to
pray, to ask God for mercy. I knew I could hardly make heaven. I have not even
enjoyed the world enough to merit hell. Surely, I was neither God’s favourite
nor devil’s. How strongly my soul would
be contended for. My eyes stung. A tension
of struggling tears strove for an outlet.
‘Where is everybody? I finally realised why the
building was stripped naked of people. He was now holding me by my heel as I lay
motionless on the ground. My energy had drained out through my blood. I had barely
a drop to sustain me to witness my death. He was pulling my legs, still holding
the dagger without cutting but determined to thrust me open. My leg began to be
pulled so strongly that I fell off from my bed to wake in a pool of my sweat. Ladi’s
jaw dropped, ‘guy why you dey shout like that kwanu?’
2 comments
Nawa oo see Suspense! Nice one bro!
ReplyDeleteThanks...glad you enjoyed the story
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