Feelings, Literature and Adulterous Things

“I know this situation is only temporary, and it’s not going to last… but I can enjoy the time we have together for what it is. I can’t say I won’t be a little sad when you do go back to him though.”

“Why do you have to go ahead and ruin the moment? Who gave you that permission?” She snuggled closer to him and cupped his face with her hand, gently ruffling his beard. “It almost sounds as if you just quoted from a book.” She gave him a peck on his shoulder and rested her head on his chest.

“I did, as a matter of fact.. doesn’t imply I  don’t mean it though..” He pulled her in closer into a one-arm embrace, the bed squeaking a bit from the movement. “I’d give a lot to make this last a while longer.”

“Ugh.. You seriously need to work on your post-coital conversation skills,” she playfully scolded him, “It sucks. You suck.” She giggled. She felt him tense a bit when she said that and almost regretted it.

“Oh? I suck?” In a swift movement he heaved himself upright on the bed and yanked the duvet out of her hand, revealing she was still nude from their prior engagement.

“Oh please please please” she feigned trepidation.

“Your acting sucks, chale” he laughed as he tried to pin her arms down on the bed. “It clearly shows that you want this.”

“You know me too well..” she coyly concurred, “let’s see how well you suck at this.” She pulled him closer towards her.

“Was that a pun and an oxymoronic phrase at the same damn time?!” he looked at her with a devilish grin growing on his face.

“Oh I was taught well.” She winked.

He paused and looked hardly at her face, a bit pensive. “I’m going to miss you when your husband returns from this trip of his..” With that, he buried his face in her bosom.

Blood, Lust and Fanged things

He sauntered into the poorly lit room, a lone candle flickered on a table. He didn’t need the light, he could see clearly in the dark perhaps even better than he could see during the day. The light was for the benefit of the maiden in the room clad in a red satin dress, with her head resting on the table. He paused at the door, the deep hue of eerie red emanating from the room reflected in his dark eyes. He looked handsome, very handsome – a perfect jawline, not-too-high cheekbones, a thick tuft of eyebrows, seductive lips, a subtle hint of laughter lines. It seemed the god of stone took his time to chisel his face out of hard marble; or rather, he took the chisel and carved his features himself because he had not always looked this perfect. Not before that night he got bitten.

The lady-in-red lifted her head to acknowledge his presence. She sat at the table with mixed feelings, hoping to find the courage to strengthen her resolve. She met his gaze and felt herself getting lulled into the fiery depth of his eyes. She could see the lust lurking in his eyes, as she knew he could also see hers in his. There and then, she knew she could never have enough of him, no matter how many times she came back after running away, no matter the number of marks she received on her body – she could never have enough of him. She traced the marks that lined her arms with her eyes, they continued all the way to her back and thighs. The pain was even an addiction to her now and the prospect of what was about to come made her blood rush. She remotely feared him, but that only deepened her desires. She wanted to run the woods with him, keep up with him, hunt with him, live with him. She felt alive. There and then, she found her resolve.

He seemed to have read the resolve in her eyes. He staggered towards her. She was his muse. He didn’t know why she kept coming back but it was nothing compared to his surprise at what she implored him to do to her, just a fortnight past. She wanted to stay with him, permanently, forever – and ever. He gave her time to rethink her decision, to make peace with her lot. A fortnight past, and she was back – back like every other time.

He smelled her. Her sweet scent tugged at his insides, making him weak, crumpling his stone-hard knees like a rock slowly being weathered. He was mad with passion. He could hear her life force throbbing through her veins – she made him feel alive. He felt it ironic that he was about to change that, change her.
He hugged her and felt her shudder a little at his cold touch. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply. She kissed him back, suckling on his lower lip. Tensions rose. He slowly parted her  auburn hair, baring her neck. He trailed soft kisses behind her left ear all the way to the base of her shoulder. In a swift movement he sunk his fangs in deep and tasted her. He heard her whimper and he prayed to her gods that he could find the restraint to stop… before it was too late.

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Image source: pixiebay.com 

Nothing Was Ever The Same Again

She got out of bed very grumpy and the annoyance clearly showed on her face. Glaring at the the clock on the nightstand, she flared her nostrils even more. She dragged her feet all the way to the kitchen, towards the focal point of her irritation.

The telephone.

It was on its fifth ring, three more rings to make it a missed call, but she didn’t bother to quicken her pace. Intuition told her even if she missed it, the caller would call again. The brief silence that followed after the eighth ring was profound, it was all quiet around her. Just as it should be, she thought. She entered the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge. She opened it and the area around her was instantaneously lit with illumination from the fridge. She took a bottle of chilled water to quench her thirst. Something about drinking chilled water at dawn made it feel like Poseidon himself was watering the parched canal of the throat. She hadn’t taken more than three gulps when the phone started blaring again. She closed the fridge and squinted, pausing for her eyes to readjust to the semi-darkness of the kitchen. She moved to the telephone and glanced at the display screen to discern who her caller was, but she couldn’t recognize the num- wait… there was no number. No caller ID, no string of numbers or even the occasional “Private Number.” Weird. She lifted the receiver from its cradle and muttered a rough Hello, making sure to convey her annoyance at being disturbed at such an hour.

“Hello?”

Silence. She heard nothing. Confused, she said a third hello, beginning to lose her patience. She could hear static noise and series of clicks which got louder with each passing second, increasing in pitch like the crescendo of a performing orchestra group, only that, the sound she was hearing now was anything but melodious. In a span of ten seconds, the shrill sound got so loud and piercing she had to hold the handset far away from her ears… then it culminated with a sudden abruptness.

It was all quiet again, then she heard something. She thought. It was barely audible than a whisper and she felt she had imagined it. It sounded guttural, even feral, like the person who uttered the sound wasn’t accustomed to human speech… but the meaning was somewhat clear.

“We are coming for you.”

Just five words, but they were enough to riddle her body with a sickly sensation. Whatever that disembodied voice was, it sounded so ethereal, it made cold fear prickle down her spine. She thought she faintly recognized those series of clicks too, somewhere in the background.

“What?” she softly said, more to herself than to whoever the caller was. She looked at the handset, still clutched away from her ear, her trepidation growing with each passing moment. “Who are you? And what did you mean by that? Who is ‘We’?” She realized she was yelling at the receiver, but the line was already dead. Whoever had called had just passed the message and ended the call. She was angry now but still felt the fear lingering. You wake me up at 2:45 am to play this stupid prank on me? That was all she could do to keep herself from freaking out- convincing herself that it was a prank. She frantically jammed the receiver back into its cradle, wincing at the force she applied and hoped she hadn’t cracked the handset.

She paced the kitchen in her oversized T-shirt and boxers trying to calm her nerves but she couldn’t. She opened the fridge once more, grabbed a cold can of ginger ale and kicked it close. Even in the dark, she could make out the poster of Earth’s Solar System that she had adorned her fridge with. She sidled over to one of the high stools and opened the can, wondering what the mystery call was all about.

**********************

He clenched and unclenched his fist again, leaning against a tree across the street, well out of sight. He continued surveying the house, just as he’d been doing for the past hour-and-half. Just a few minutes ago, he saw a faint glow in the kitchen, probably from the opening of a fridge, and he realized how thirsty he himself was. Even from across the street, he had heard the very faint ringing of a telephone somewhere in the house, probably the kitchen, and he presumed that was what had awakened her. He wondered who would be calling her at such a time and he felt a little queasy. Checking the safety of the glock one more time, he slid it down the waistband of his trousers, at the small of his back… he wasn’t a great fan of concealing guns around or near the crotch. He straightened his shirt and jacket to cover the weapon. He carried no phone on him and in his breast pocket was a photograph of her. Using the path he had traversed so many times, he made his way to the building through the backyard.
He paused behind the door, listening in. He could hear her opening a canned drink somewhere in there. He scratched the stubble of beard that was growing on his chin and his fingers brushed the long scar that marked his left cheek. Glancing around one last time, he knelt and began picking the lock.

*********************

9,500 kilometers above Earth’s surface, a fremd looking metallochromic craft hovered in space, not very far away from the edge of the exosphere. The craft was the size of a football pitch, with three sub-levels: an upper deck, the central command center and a lower deck. On board were three beings, each draped in a cowl concealing their faces. They were seated on high backed ball chairs which could hover across the entire the space of the command and navigation center. The coordinates of a geolocation, represented in glyphs indecipherable to humans, swirled on a holographic screen. Series of clicks seemed to emanate from beneath the cowl of the hooded figures as their long knobbly appendages worked various control buttons. Just moments ago, they had established preliminary contact with the subject. They readied a section of the upper deck for a probing session.

At last.. they’ve found another target.

Six Word Story: Help

Nine-one-one… Beep… No signal.

Six Word Story: Betrayal

My wife. My best man. Eloping. 

Mala Suerte

He surveyed the contents of his room, casting his eyes about… looking but not really seeing anything. His eyes glazed over for a moment, deep in thought. Flashes of memories flitted through his mind, his eyes finally settling on The Watchtower magazine that lay on his bed – he had found it on the floor when he entered his room earlier. It looked a little crumpled because it was forced through the crack space beneath his door. He was indifferent to how he sporadically found the book around his door when he got back from making his rounds – he knew there was a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah Witness somewhere in the neighborhood. He didn’t mind the intrusion, so far as nobody broke into his room. From where he perched precariously on the three kitchen-stools, one lying on top of the other, he could still make out the “Paradise Awaits You” that was emblazoned on the cover page. He scowled and muttered an intangible stream of words under his breath, concentrating on what he was about to do. The stools he stood on creaked ominously, and twice he wobbled and almost fell. He was now about 4 feet above the floor but close enough to the ceiling. He ran his hand along the entire length of the loose wiring that hung from the groove of the ceiling, stretching as far as he could. Convinced that the wiring would hold and that there was nothing wrong with the insulation, he brought out a pair of pliers from his back-pocket.

“This is it,” he mulled.

 Steadying himself one last time on his perch, he started working his hands, humming a doleful tune  to boot.

*****Earlier that day*****

07:00 am

He was already up. In fact, he had been awake for almost two hours but spent the better part of the last hour waiting for the bucket to fill up with water under the trickling tap. “Nkwasiafoɔ!” he cursed darkly at the Water Company, pulling his sleeping cloth tightly around him to ward off the morning dew seeping down into his already tired bones. He hated mornings like this… when he had to wake up in the wee hours to salvage as much water as he could, in order to bath. Living with four other tenants in the housing apartment, he knew his only option of having a decent morning bath was to wake up very early to fetch water, lest he  went about his day smelling like a week-old sack of Agbobloshie tomatoes.

He sauntered out of his room still drowsy from sleep or perhaps its lack-of, to the far eastern part of the wall of the compound where the tap was located. He had earlier left his bucket under the trickling tap, an hour now, and he was about to reap the benefit of his patien- “ARGHH!” he yelled. It was loud enough to scare off of *the gym of lizards lined on the wall, having their usual bouts of morning press-ups among other things lizards do on a Monday morning. The water in the bucket was only enough to fill about four empty pails and he  suspected one of his co-tenants had probably leeched him off his precious water. He had an appointment to catch for a job interview that morning and he feared he was already behind time. Too annoyed to say anything else, he sped to the bathroom with his 4-or-so pails of water splashing freely in the bucket.

10:43 a.m. 

“I’m sorry to say this but looking at your CV, I’m  not sure we can offer you a place in this company. Our company strives to…”  He didn’t listen to the rest of it. He had been through this routine many times, so he didn’t even bother to listen to the excuse being given to him this time around: “We’re looking for someone who fits a specific criteria,” “We don’t believe you have the necessary work experience,” and oh his personal favorite, “Let me give you a number to call, they just might have something for you.” He’s heard them all, he hated them all. Bah! All loads of crap, he thought.

He focused his attention back to the woman sitting behind the plush desk in front of him and paid more attention to her features now. A smooth face, its complexion a slightly different shade from the skin around her neck and collar-bone area, reminding him of the heavy make-up his own girlfriend usually wore. He remotely found her lips sensual and could hardly believe such finely carved lips were stabbing at him with words of rejection at the moment.

“… believe you’re a young man with great potential but I also believe this company will not help you develop well enough as you may…”

“Madam!” he politely interrupted her, “It’s okay.” The HR manageress paused and looked intently at him. “You’ve spent the last two or three minutes making me an unwilling audience of your already rehearsed rejection speech so please, if it’s not too much to ask, let me kindly take my leave.” He finished with a bright disarming smile.

1:28 pm 

He was very hungry and tired as he trudged down the untarred road to his girlfriend’s apartment. He had made other rounds after his earlier appointment or should he say disappointment, getting nothing but promises varying from call-backs to email replies. Deep down, he knew how those would also turn out. He was worn-out.

He knew she disliked him visiting without prior notice but he couldn’t resist the urge, especially when he was already so close to her vicinity; so he pulled out his phone and sent her a text message.

1:33 pm 

She was in the kitchen when she felt her phone vibrate beneath her apron. A callous tap of the screen showed a single text message which slowly brought a smile to her lips. Giving the phone another quick double tap, she stowed the phone away in the folds of her apron.

2:14 pm

He paused behind the door to her apartment and approvingly nodded his head as he perceived the aroma of chicken stew wafting through the corridor. He knocked and was warmly welcomed by her at the door. He thought he registered a look of surprise on her face but she gave him a quick peck and rushed back to the kitchen, the stew simmering on the cooker.

“Why didn’t you let me know that you were coming?” she asked from the kitchen.

“I didn’t? Have you checked your phone? Sent you a text.” With that, he threw himself on her bed as his stomach rumbled violently and he thanked his stars for guiding his path.

6:04 pm 

He was just up from his nap. The day had taken a larger toll on him than he had imagined but he was quite surprised to find her lying on his chest, her eyes closed in sleep. His right arm was coiled around her. He knew the sun had long traversed the length of the sky and it was beginning to get dark outside. He wasn’t bothered much because he preferred being with her than going back to his mosquito-infested apartment. He just lay there cuddling her and could feel her twirling the few strands of chest hair he had with her index finger.

“Oh so you awake,” he merely stated. He also begun playing with strands of her hair. “You know, next week is our two-year anniversary, what do you propose we do?”

She paused her finger-twirling, thinking. “We could go to th- WAIT!” She bolted upright, clearly alarmed. “What’s the time?”

He looked at her slightly puzzled. “Why, what’s wrong?” 

“What’s the time? I’m serious.” She got out of the bed and started fixing her dishevelled hair in the mirror. He lazily flicked his wrist to look at his watch, “It’s a few minutes past 6, what’s the matter?”

“Get up! Hurry! My boyfriend is coming.” she blurted out with a sense of urgency in her voice. He forced out a laughter, shaking his head at her. She went about the room trying to tidy it up.“I’m serious o, get up and wear your shirt!”  she dashed towards the mirror once more, fixing her appearance. He tried laughing again but faltered.

“What do you mean by ‘your boyfriend is coming’? I’m already here” he fired back at her, stifling the anger he could feel bubbling up the surface of his cool demeanor.

“Please, I’ll explain everything to you latter.” On cue heavy footsteps could be heard approaching down the corridor, a whistling tune to boot. “He’s here, Come…” she half-begged half-pulled him towards the window, “…if he catches you here, we’re both dead. He’s an army man.” 

He still stood there undeterred, totally pissed now. “I’m not going… At least not through the window.”

8:16 pm

He found himself limping across the compound to his apartment. The scowl he wore on his face was enough to scare off anyone who dared approach him. He gritted his teeth and grimaced with each jolt of pain that shot up his sprained ankle. He swore again as he thought of the booming voice that called out to her from behind the door; and his final conviction to go out through the window, spraining his ankle when he jumped off the first floor. In his haste, he had left his shirt behind. He was only relieved that he didn’t meet any one he knew in his dirtied-singlet-and-trouser-with-a-pair-of-shoes-in-his-right-hand-and-leg-limping state. He got an alert on his phone and checked, only to realize his earlier text message hadn’t gone through. He was out of credit.

10:27 pm

“And here is a recap of the headlines… The Minister of Education at his press conference today-” the TV blared on. He was too tired to search for the remote control to change the channel to something more interesting.

“The Ethiopian Ambassador to Ghana arrived this morning- have talks with the President at the Jubilee House-” the news went on. He pondered over the the most recent events of his day trying to make meaning out of it. He had been in a relationship for two years now and this is what he had to show for it. He couldn’t wait to hear her explanation. No, on second thoughts he didn’t want to hear it. 

“…tilapia investment company… Accra-based… being sued for fraud among other charges by-” 

He rushed to the TV, his face just inches from the screen. He fumbled with the buttons on the side of the TV set, increasing the volume, making it blare even louder.

“…has reportedly locked up investments belonging to a lot of Ghanaians. Chief among the schemes that were used to siphon the hard-earned income of clients were the Tilapia Investment Module and Money Investment Module under the Farming Project. Clients were said to have invested amounts ranging from GH¢100 to over GH¢10,000. The unsuspecting victims claimed they were promised interest of between 96% and 120% over six to twelve months period. However, when the date for redeeming their investments was due, not even a pesewa had been paid to the investors. More so, a 4% default interest which was supposed to be paid on the investments every month had not been paid till date…”

He was stunned. His heart was either beating too fast or too slow because he could feel his body vibrating. He was still kneeling in front of the TV set when the late news was brought to a close. He remained in that position like a worshipper in the presence of his deity, about to undertake penance for the atonement of a hideous crime he had committed. He cursed his lot. He had invested a total sum of GH¢8,200 in a company that was now on the run. A huge chunk of that amount had been his personal savings over the past few years and the remaining sum had been from friends he had managed to convince to join him invest in the venture.

Right there he gave up… Life had won. 

11:09 pm 

He could feel his phone vibrating somewhere in the room but made no attempt to look for it. He had an idea who who might be calling and the reason for the call: either his girlfriend calling to explain why she’d been cheating on him for goodness-knows-how-long, or one of his friends calling to inform and accost him for leading them to invest in a bad venture. He got up and started contemplating his options.

*****Presently*****

He pulled on the wiring once more, testing its hold. He couldn’t bring himself to wait till the next day to do this and he was convinced what he was doing would fix it. Procrastination had been one of his bad traits but he was going to deal with this now. Thin lines of sweat gleamed on his body and those on his forehead sometimes dropped past his brows into eyes, making him grunt.

He was ready.

He held the two ends of the wire he had cut in both hands, the outer plastic sheath removed. The copper core of both ends were exposed and he begun twirling them together, joining them as one piece. When he finished, he coiled black sellotape around the spot several times.

There. 

He hoped that would make his ceiling fan work again because he couldn’t stand the heat in his room. Turning on the main switch, he turned on the fan. He sighed at his success as the fan begun its round-about motion. Something too trivial to lighten his mood considering how his day had been.  He jumped off the stools he was standing on and flung himself onto his bed, crumpling The Watchtower with his weight.

The cool breeze that blew from the fan was soothing but it was not meant to last. He was thrown into darkness a moment later when a blackout swept through the entire neighborhood. “ECG!” he muttered, grinding his teeth with annoyance.  The heat returned fiercely, exacerbating his exasperation… as if to punish and taunt him for fixing the ceiling fan.

Paradise Awaits You.

He thought again of the title of the magazine lying somewhere beneath him. He started contemplating suicide but he knew his feeble heart would not let him do it.
*

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Glossary-not-glossary

*a gym of lizards – Well, “a gym of lizards” because they’re always nodding and the nodding movement pretty much looks like press-up, so why not. The collective term however is a lounge of lizards… yeah i googled that. 🙂

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credit: http://www.ghanatrade.gov.gh/Latest-News/us-group-dupes-clients.html

Morning Rounds

It was a fine Monday morning, the streets already bustling with various activities. I willingly joined the moving crowd and allowed myself to be led by the throng of people who were rushing off to the station to board buses to their various places of work. I didn’t look too shabby for the nature of my work and I felt pretty good about my morning rounds. I kept an even pace as I moved towards the lorry-station, scanning the crowd as I moved along.

Just ahead of me, less than fifty yards, I  saw someone discreetly pull a wallet out of the back pocket of a man who clearly had a lot on his mind that morning. I smiled and shook my head as I quickened my pace to alert him of the foul-move. I didn’t get to him on time though, the pickpocket had already snuck past his unsuspecting victim, almost vanishing into the crowd.
“Hey.. Hey Mister!” I called out when I got to him. I had to tap him on his shoulder before he fully realized he was being called.
“Mister, check your back pocket, I think someone just stole your wallet.” He stopped and turned to look at me, trying to comprehend what I was saying. “Your pocket… You’ve been robbed,” I said to him again, losing my patience at his slowness to react, “that’s the guy who robbed you up ahead.” I pointed to the pickpocket who was a few meters ahead, about to make it to a curve.

It finally hit him, he frantically emptied his pockets trying to find his wallet. “I’ve been robbed” he yelled, “…my money!” Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you dummy… I pointed up ahead at the pickpocket who was at the curve now. Mr. Victim looked up just in time to see the thief disappear behind the bend. By this time other people had stopped to witness the drama unfolding, and the street hawkers could already be heard concocting tales of similar pickpocketing.

“Did you see him? The stupid thief… Show me where he went… I don’t have time for delinquents of society.” I just stood there looking at him, such a smug personality. I used the opportunity to assess his general appearance: A decent suit, a nice wristwatch, a briefcase..
“Eh? Stupid thief? I know where he went off to, follow me.” I took the lead, towards the direction of the escaping thief. We took off jogging. “Can you hurry up young man…if it’s money, I can pay you for your help.” I just smiled and continued jogging as we made the curve into the secluded area, out of public sight.

We moved just a few more meters when I quickly spun and pushed him to fall, his briefcase clattering across the ground. I rushed to remove his wristwatch and took his iPhone from his right pocket. I knew it’d be there because I keenly watched him earlier as he frantically searched through his pocket for his wallet; Then I took off running.
“Delinquents of society erhn?” I yelled back at him, laughing out loud with his briefcase clutched to my chest. I made a detour to the agreed rendezvous point where I knew Akoto would be waiting for me with a stolen wallet.

The Visitor

The number you’re calling cannot be reached at this moment, please try again la- I cut the call.

Gaddamit! Shitty network. I immediately start redialling. I have been trying to reach her for close to thirty minutes but this shitty network keeps telling me I ca-
Oh hello, sup are you in your room? I’m about leaving to your place…
Okay… o …okay, see you in a bit then. I hang up.

Thirty minutes later I find myself outside her door, giving it a rasp knock. She opens and steps aside for me to enter, without a word of course. Typical of her. I enter her room and find myself looking at a well-laid bed, which reminds me of mine. I smile. I continue looking around, trying to take in the little details ordinary people might ignore – but I’m not as ordinary, am I?

Her slippers are neatly placed under her bed. Her array of footwear is arranged on the shoe-rack, according to sizes and material used. Books on the shelf in alphabetical order, taking the type of paper-back into consideration. I roll my eyes at this point as I try to ignore how the inside of wardrobe looks like. Oh goodness, I’m itching to see her bathroom.

I hear three metallic clicks behind me and I make a mental note that no-one is going to be disturbing us, at least not anytime soon. I turn to her as she walks from the door and offers me a seat on the couch nearby. I pretend not to have heard the offer and and proceed to her laptop which was on the table, playing songs from – I sigh. I don’t even know what playlist this is.

I remove my Chuck Taylors and kick them under the bed, knocking her soldier-slippers off their various positions on the square tiles. The act catches her attention and she looks up at me. I return her look squarely and crack up grinning. Her hard jawline softens up and her face splits into a wide smile. I enjoy tantalizing her with my little acts of defiance because I know it sets off her OCD urges. I feel my horns growing an extra inch – The mean devil, ain’t I?

I hop onto her bed, messing it up. I think I hear her heart miserably squeak twice. She’s livid now. I feign cluelessness and go on to tinker with her perfect playlist. She rushes to take the laptop from me and I close the lid just in time; she trips just as she gets to the bed and she falls on me. I’m caught by surprise. Wait, I should’ve been caught off guard, but I’m not.

She looks me in the eye and I hold her gaze for a couple of seconds. I see a glint of spark in her eye for a fleeting second. She blinks and the spark is gone. She mumbles a gibberish apology and tries to untangle herself from me. She gets up, tries taking a step back but I grab her, pulling her to fall on me again. I catch her off guard and kiss her. She kisses-me-back-not. She reels back from my grasp and I feel disconcerted. I keep my head low for some moments. Silence hangs in the room from the aftermath of her rejection, deepening my abashedness. Shit, I messed up?

I get off her bed, no, not to leave. I go to the table and fetch my bag, no, not to leave. I look inside and bring out a brown paper bag. I make a mental effort to ward off thoughts on the prior, errmm, situation. I feel her gaze on me as I unfurl the paper bag. I’m here to hit blunt for the first time, so it’s high-time we get started. I pour the contents of the bag onto the table. I’m not really an expert at this so I don’t know the strain or type of grade it is, not that I really care. I see her beam beside me at the sight of the grass. She is not a first-timer, neither is she an expert. Pfft! We’re just a duo of amateurs about to get high.

I bring out a pair of scissors from my bag and start cutting up the weed, chopping it up into very small pieces. Kai! I have no idea what I’m doing or why. I’ve only seen some other people do that, so here I find myself. We start the session soon enough. I cough twice, one each after my first two hits, and I feel okay, I guess. Twenty minutes into the session and I’m feeling light-headed. I grin, I don’t know why but I do. I’m based on the bed, grinning like a fool. I glance at her only to find her trying smoke tricks. Okay she might not be an amateur after all.

I’m high but I’m not sure. I’m not sure because I don’t know how it’ll feel like, what to expect. Everything seems fine to me, I keep on hitting anyway. I’m on my second or third roll, I  lose count. See, it doesn’t matter. I watch her get up to the fridge and bring out three cupcakes. I get curious. She walks over to the table and sprinkles hefty heaps of the grass onto the cupcakes. I laugh out. Okay I’m behaving stupidly – I chide myself.

She comes to sit by me on the bed with three hemp’ed cupcakes on a serving tray. I excitedly gobble one down, same as she does her’s. The third piece sits between us as we stare at it in silence. My mind starts fogging and I try desperately to clear it. She eats the third cake without sharing it with me – the greedy bitch.

My G-shock beeps, signalling that it’s midnight. I hear the tray clatter onto the floor and feel myself getting pushed to lie back on the bed. She sits on top of me and takes off her top, staring down at me in her bra. I get confused and just stare back. Just a while ago, she rejected my advancements so I try to figure out what this is about. She bends over and kisses me, covering my entire face with her hair. I kiss her back surely.

I keep slipping in and out of clouded thoughts. I don’t notice when my shirt and trousers even come off – I feel the cool air from the ceiling fan against my  bare legs and chest. Am I raping her? She looks at me amused. She tells me it’s okay. Oh shit! She has super-powers, she just read my mind. I wonder if weed is an aphrodisiac and discard the thought. I’m quite caught up in the mood as well.

I barely notice I’m stark naked now, okay except for my socks. After a lot of fondling with my erection she positions herself to sit astride me. The fog lifts momentarily off my mind, just before my tip pushed past the lips which form her labia. I ask if she has protection. My inner Poseidon knocks my head hard in the back, and threatens to stab me with the Trident if I don’t shut-up. She assures me nothing will happen, but I’m not willing to take the chance. I squirm uncomfortably beneath her and get her pissed off. In a flurry of movements, she gets off me, dons her undies and she’s at the door. She unlocks the door and kicks me out, only giving me time to put on my boxers. I cling on to my jeans trousers, shirt, Chuck Taylor’s and bag, in one crumpled heap on my chest.

I shiver as I step outside; cold night. I maneuver through the poorly lit neighborhood, hoping to flag down a taxi back to my place. I glance at my watch – 2 a.m. In the spur-of-the-moment I hear quick movements somewhere behind me but I’m too slow to react. I feel a heavy blow to my head with a club of some sort. I utter a short cry. I see lots of blood. My blood…then oblivion.

I stand by helplessly as I watch the three ritualists drag my limp body into the dark night. A midget trails them,  carrying my Chuck Taylor’s. I’m left stranded, a ghost. I extend my arms in front of me taking a look at my surreal form, clad in only boxer shorts and a pair of socks. I shake my head and smile as I trace my steps back to where I just came from.  The girl who cried “Saman,” here I come. I try out a good impression of an eerie high pitched laugh.
In a flash, I’m standing outside her door.

*

“Saman” – Ghost

A Cock-And-Whose Story

I first met Helen outside the local restaurant. She had just finished getting some rice to eat and was just looking to take a leisurely stroll – she was new to the neighborhood, I could tell. I watched her as she crossed the road, gracefully skirting around the cars. I watched her as she made her way to the other side of the road; my side of the road.

I’m not one who really believes in fate; or that there is a Big Guy up there watching from high above the skies; having a thousand winged creatures at His command… pfft! Just ordinary birds if you ask me. However watching this beautiful angel cross the road, made me wonder if my mother’s old tales about divinities contained some truth after all. Quite ironic, it seemed. 

I quickly nibbled on the corn I was having for lunch…”Oh damn it! Now she’ll think I’m too basic. My breath surely reeks of corn.” I took gulps of water from a nearby tap. These humans hardly close their taps well. I got the water to trickle down my back, as I tried to beat down my ruffled appearance.

I hurriedly caught up with her. “Hi, I’m Sam. I noticed you’re new here, I could show you around if you don’t mind.” She peered at me, taking in my demeanor. “Hi, I’m Helen… Nice comb you got there on your head.” Oh yeah! My golden red comb stood firm on my head, catching the light of the dusk. I lavished her with extravagant compliments. She looked good: colorful, neat beak, shiny feathers, even her claws looked pedicured.

It was morning, many days later. I had taken a sand-bath and set out to meet Helen at our usual meeting spot. We had been seeing each other since the day I met her outside the restaurant. I waited at our usual spot but she wasn’t coming. Nothing to really worry about but my small eyes caught some movement around a car that was parked some few yards away. Curious, I moved towards the car, as tentatively as my two legs could carry me.

There, beneath the car lay my Helen, who laid beneath this arrrghh – that cocky bastard. The sight of Helen mating with another cock made me lose it. I went under the car and continuously pecked at him with my sharp beak. When I finally dragged him out to the open, he was dead. Blinded by rage, I had killed a fellow cock. That was a foul thing to do even for a fowl.

I ran. I got caught a couple of days later by the humans. I don’t know how the humans got involved. Maybe the fella fowlla I killed was well-connected – an associate of theirs perhaps.

Now the humans are about to carry-out my sentence, I didn’t even face trial. I see knives. I see hot water boiling on fire. I see pepper, onion and other spices. They keep referring to me as bronya akukor, whatever vile name that is. I see the smaller humans, the human-chicks, skipping with excitement. I find it quite surprising that they are gleeful at the prospect of my torture and death. I shouldn’t have caught feelings but I have no regrets.

I’m not one who really believes in fate; or that there is a big guy up there watching from high above the skies; having a thousand winged creatures at his command… pfft! This is all an unfortunate coincidence if you ask me.

7th March In A Compound House.

It’d been two hours past her 8 o’clock curfew but Awo still had no intention of going home yet. The whole place had been thrown into a state of euphoric frenzy following Kwame Nkrumah’s declaration of Ghana’s independence. Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah. That was last night but looking around her, she realized people had no intention of settling for anything less of intense partying and celebration.

She had spent all day preparing Ga kenkey and shito for the household, with her cousins helping with the frying of the kpanla, their favorite fish. She worked diligently to ensure she had a pretty free schedule that night because she wanted to go out to town. By dusk, she had bathed and fed all the little kids and waited keenly for her mother to return from her rounds – collecting debts from her market-women friends. She had to ask for permission to stay past her curfew.

After lots of persuasion and promises to be of good behavior, she left the house by 6pm. She put on her favorite skirt-and-blouse combination and made her way to meet Charles at the agreed spot, a little piece of paper clutched in her hand. Charles had earlier passed on a note via his younger brother who was friends with Awo’s cousin, naming a location and time for their usual rendezvous.

They met and walked around town, talking, laughing at random activities of people, making plans for the new future. A lot had changed overnight and they loved the time they had spent talking about possibilities. It was quite late, at least for Awo, and they now stood outside the gate to her house; her hand in his. They just stood there in silence, listening to the distant sound of music and people still celebrating in the lively parts of town.

“Why are you not saying anything?” Awo whispered shyly into the dark night. He didn’t respond, making her feel she wasn’t audible enough.
“Why are y-“ she tried saying again, this time a little louder.
“I heard you the first time, Awo,” he whispered back, gently squeezing her hand.
“Then why didn’t you say anything back?” She playfully chided him. He smiled, squeezing her hand again.

“You’re looking very beautiful tonight Awo.” She couldn’t help but smile as she looked up at Charles. It was the childish goofy grin he always had on his face whenever he complimented her; that was what made her like him more and more each day.

“Thank you Charles” she said, bending her head a little to avoid his gaze, a little shy. Her glowing ebony skin did well to hide the blushing she could feel on her cheeks.

He moved to stand directly in front of her, raised her head with his hand and leaned in to kiss her. She was getting sweetly flustered and was quite glad there was no-one coming down the road. She closed her eyes, waiting to feel his lips crush hers, waiting to taste his lips, waiting to share their first kiss. Just then, the gate to the house got swung wide open, sending high metallic echoes to pierce the quiet night.
Her eyes flung open as she felt Charles cringe back from her as if he had just touched a hot box iron. She looked towards the gate and there stood her mother with a chalewote in hand.

Charles stood there befuddled but quickly waved a hasty goodnight to both Awo and her mother, breaking off into a trot towards the direction of his house. Awo tentatively walked onto the compound quite abashed by the whole situation. She dreaded the next morning, when her mother would elaborately and  to a great extent of exaggeration, narrate the event to her siblings, grandparents, aunties, uncles, cousins and even Maa Maggie – the bread seller, making her embarrassment complete.