FIRST LOVE - Episode 2

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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - sex in the open, in a garden kissing passionately, sex, America, grandparents, Africa, Igbo, Igbos, slaves, no longer in the room, strange experiences, the foam was soaked with blood.

We sat on a mat in a garden kissing passionately. My shirt was unbuttoned revealing my breasts which were scarcely covered by my bra. Like a bewitched soul, I yielded all my body to him to do with as he wished. Our tongues wandered in each other’s mouths and our hands snaked all over our bodies. We didn’t mind that those next to us could see and hear us. I was clearly losing my mind. Maybe it was America. I could not believe I could engage in any form of sex in the open. “Why don’t you make love to me?” I asked Ryan. “No. I don’t want to. Sex is way deeper than penetration and orgasms. I don’t want us to rush things.” His refusal to have sex with me knocked some sense back into my head. I pulled away from him, readjusted my bra and buttoned my shirt. “Walk me home, please,” I said, looking sad. “Give me a few minutes to calm down. I will walk you home,” he said. I sat on the mat thinking about how fast I had fallen into darkness. Back in Nigeria, my waywardness was not as extreme as it had become in America. “I wish I had listened to my parents. How do I break free from Ryan?” I mumbled under my breath. The more I thought about leaving Ryan, the more I realized just how bound I was to him.

Sometimes it felt as though my soul had been meshed with his. “I will be going to see my grandparents this weekend, I want you to come with me,” Ryan said. I wanted to say no immediately, but I could not find the strength to tell him no. I hated being that weak but I could not help it. I reasoned that I was weak toward Ryan because he was my first real love. “Silvia you haven’t said anything about my request.” His words brought me back to the present. “Oh I would love to see your grandparents.” The moment I said those words, my heart sunk into my stomach. It was as if I had violated a sacred boundary. The fear over me was so visible that Ryan could see it. “What is it baby?” “I don’t know. I just became afraid suddenly,” I said with tears running down my face. Ryan took me in his hands and hugged me as warmly as he could. “If you don’t want to go with me, it is fine. You must not go with me because I asked.” “I want to go with you, but I don’t know why I am afraid.” Ryan thought for a moment and then said almost to himself, “You have a strong spirit. Your inner senses can see beyond your present.”

“Is that why I am afraid?” “What tribe are you from in Africa?” he asked, ignoring my question. “Igbo.” “Huh! Igbos, most of the stubborn slaves from Africa were Igbos. They preferred to die than live as slaves… grandparents will be pleased to meet you. They think that we might be Igbos.” That revelation got me so excited I forgot to give heed to my fears. The prospect of convincing my parents that Ryan was a descendant of Igbo slaves brought to America left my heart full of excitement. Ryan remained thoughtful until we reached the spot where he usually stopped whenever he walked me home. I could not risk being seen with him. I kissed him with renewed energy before we said goodbye.

“Nneka Ryan might be Igbo!” I said excitedly to my sister. “What makes you think he is?” “He told me today that his grandparents think they might be descendants of Igbo slaves who were brought to America. “No, Silvia. Don’t get your hopes high. That won’t convince mum and dad. These black Americans have lost their African essence and flair. They are not like us. At least I know mom and dad do not see them as Africans.” She brought had fingers close, gesturing the gap between native African and African Americans and then continued, “They are lost somewhere in the middle between whites and blacks in Africa.” Her explanations took the wind out of my sails. “So I don’t stand the chance of convincing mom and dad that he is Igbo?” “No, babe, you don’t.”

I spent much of the night brainstorming how I might convince my parents that Ryan was actually Igbo. The moment he mentioned that his family might be from my tribe, I latched onto it and became fixated about it. I could not really remember the moment I slept off. My senses came alive when I heard voices in my head. I startled from sleep and saw that big fiery eyes were staring at me from the walls of the room. The window which my sister had closed was strangely open and an ominous wind was blowing into the room. I could not bear the horror I beheld. I yelled out loud and shook my sister who slept soundly next to me. She did not move and no one heard me. I wanted to jump out of the bed but my feet could not move. I shut my eyes and dug my head under the pillow. In a split second, I saw that I was no longer in the room. I was lying on the ground in a vast cotton field. I had not seen cotton before, but the moment, I saw it, I knew it was a cotton field.

Slaves with bloodied, mangled, faces and hands filled the farm. In a twinkling of an eye, all the slaves surrounded me while I lay on the ground. With their fingernails which seemed more like talons, they tore into my skin and began to eat me raw. I fought to break away from them, but they were too many. I woke from the dream screaming and the bed on which I lay soaked in blood even though my skin had no scratch. In a corner of the room my parents and siblings watched in horror. When I jumped out of the bed, I sought refuge in my mother’s arms. No one in our house slept a wink all that night. We prayed till morning. I was so shaken up by that dream that I could not go to school the next day. My mother had to take excuse from work to look after me. My father went to work but returned shortly. With the two of them alone in the house with me, I knew I was in trouble.

“How on earth did that happen? Where in God’s world did the attack come from?” my mother asked in quick succession. “We don’t have such experiences in our family. I would have suspected our family. Our family foundation is clean. Your grandparents served God, protected gospel preachers and shunned idol worship. Silvia, what have you brought on yourself?” my father asked, looking very worried. “I don’t know. It all happened as I told you.” “Don’t give me that Silvia. You did something which attracted the attack. You broke an hedge somehow. The bible is clear, he who breaks the hedge, the serpent will bite. What have you done Silvia?!” my mother demanded. I searched my head and came up with nothing. There was no way I could have made a connection between the invitation Ryan Tyler offered to me and my nightmare. I had forgotten how I felt when I accepted to go see Ryan’s grandparents with him. “I don’t remember anything which I might have done which could be responsible for the attack. Believe me mom and dad. I do not know where the attack came from,” I said innocently.

“Have you had sex with any man? Are you still a virgin?” that was my dad. “I am still a virgin, daddy. I have not had sex with any man.” “Do you have a secret boyfriend?” “No,” I lied. “Darling, I want you to take her into the bathroom and find out if she is lying,” my father said. “That won’t tell us much. I have already done that last night. Her hymen is still intact. I am thinking she may have been initiated into a cult without her knowledge.” “We may have to talk to our pastor then,” my father suggested. “I would like to do that but I don’t want church people to get the idea that my daughter is jinxed. Why don’t we fast and pray and see what the Lord might reveal to us?” “That is good but, I think this is the sort of case we should not handle alone. Did you see how much the foam was soaked with blood and yet Silvia has no scratch on her body. This is glaring demonic activity.” “Why do I feel like Silvia is not telling us everything she knows. Well, I will soon find out if you are lying to us,” said my mother. “Mom, I have told you everything I know.” When my parents were done drilling me, they let me go. To tell the truth, I was as much scared as my parents were. The things I had seen were horrifying.

Later that day, Ryan called to inform me that we would not be going to see his grandparents that weekend.  He offered no reason for his change of plans. However, I was happy for that. With what had happened, there was no way my parents would have let me go anywhere. The next night, I have no other attack, but there were moments in the night when I felt like someone was watching me. There were also moments I felt like I heard my name. It was as if someone was trying to tell me something. The whole feeling was very creepy, but because I did not want to scare my parents, I did not tell them about these experiences. I was eager to give them the impression that all was well with me so I could be allowed to go out with my friends. The next morning, I was in the kitchen very early washing plates, and suddenly the water in the sink crystallized and formed the words, ‘death is coming’. I wanted to scream in fear but could not. My lips and tongue would not move. All I could do was drop the plates and fled the kitchen. In all of these strange experiences, I missed Ryan and craved his touch.


                                                   CLICK HERE TO READ EPISODE 1                                             

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FIRST LOVE - Episode 2
Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - sex in the open, in a garden kissing passionately, sex, America, grandparents, Africa, Igbo, Igbos, slaves, no longer in the room, strange experiences, the foam was soaked with blood. An African Literary Blog
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