FIRST LOVE - Episode 6

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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - grandfather, virgin, altar, sun, restore my virginity, blood, My parents, police, school, He was a popular guy in my class, Facebook, classmates, killings.


After the scary cries were over, a voice thundered, “How did this happen?” it was Ryan’s grandfather. “She was a virgin a few hours ago! How did she lose it before the sacrifice?” he wondered aloud. “Ryan! It must be Ryan!” an old woman observed. “How could he have gone into the house without being seen… wait… except he used a shadow. Find Ryan now! Find him!!!” Mr. Tyler demanded. My heart pounded as I lay on the floor. I did not know what they would do to me. I was certain that sparing my life was not on the card. “Her non-virgin blood has defiled our altar, by her life shall our altar be rebuilt,” Ryan’s grandfather announced. “No! We cannot place her again on our altar! Kill her now!” Ryan’s grandmother demanded. Her words left me mortified. “Ryan did not take her virginity in his human body; he came as a shadow, her purity can be renewed by morning and evening sun. Take her to a cell and make sure that morning sun lights upon her; and in the evening, let her be tied to the holy tree in the city. By her, our altar was destroyed, by her shall it be rebuilt!” By those words from Ryan’s grandfather, my fate was sealed. For a period of four years I was moved from my underground cell to a road in the city where I was tied to a tree so evening sun could shine on me.

In those four years, I wore no clothes not even for a second. Whether it was cold or not, they did not give me clothes to wear. I ate what they gave me to eat and drank what they offered to me. Daily, they sprinkled that sparkling water on me and had me assessed to know if my hymen was healing. They expected that the rituals they subjected me to would restore my virginity since Ryan did not have sex with me in his human body. At the early days when they began tie me to the tree in the city, I would cry out to passers-by for help. With time it dawned on me that to other people, my cries were inaudible and voiceless. They could not even so much as see me. When the evening sun would light on me, I would feel a burning sensation through my body just like when the first gleam of sun would light upon me in the morning through an opening on the roof of my underground cell. I had to learn to call the name of Jesus and plead his blood each time either the morning or evening sun would shine on me. I am convinced that by the power in that name, and in his blood, my hymen took long to heal.

My Family and The Search to Find Ryan Tyler
My family was thrown into turmoil from the moment I was taken by the evil cult. Nneka my elder sister had to tell my parents what she knew about Ryan Tyler. My parents, especially my mother, almost died of heartache. In spite of how much they warned me, yet I chose to follow my ways. My parents had to involve the police, and from my phone, Ryan Tyler’s picture was obtained. The police were swift in their investigation. The news of what had happened offered the police an explanation for the many disappearance of African American girls in our city. They also wondered if the same cult was responsible for the many white teenage girls who had disappeared in our city over the years without a trace. When the police came to my school to ask school authorities questions about Ryan Tyler and to obtain his bio record, they were shocked to find out that no one in the school, both teachers, students and non-academic staff, knew who Ryan Tyler was. There was no one like him in the school record and no one had seen his face before.

The question that left everyone with was who were the people he was seen with in school. In spite of this revelation, I could not believe it that Ryan was not a student in the school. He was in the same class with me. He wrote exams with us and did his assignments with us. I saw him answer questions in class many times. It just was not possible for him not to be a student in my school. My sister and my parents were shocked further when my classmates described me as a reserved person who preferred to hang out alone. This also was stunning to me. I was not a lone ranger. Most times I was with Ryan, kissing and making out in corners of the school. I was full of life and told some of my friends in my class about Ryan, especially about how he liked to have me show him my panties. If Ryan was not a student in my school and if no one really knew him, how about my classmates who hung out with him. He was a popular guy in my class.

Through my Facebook account, the police hacked Ryan’s Facebook account. They saw all his chats with me, his friends and the pictures we took together. They saw all the pictures of my panties which he had snapped when I pulled my clothes down for him. My parents were heartbroken to see what I had been doing. I had no knowledge he had been posting them on his Facebook wall. They never showed up on my wall, and when I checked to see what he had on his wall, I did not see those. They were just not there. With what the police had seen on Ryan’s Facebook wall, they were convinced that Ryan was not a phantom. He was real and had friends. With that conviction the police stepped up their investigations to find him. However, there was something which worried both the police and my parents, none of Ryan’s friends on Facebook were in my school.

Three days after the police hacked Ryan’s Facebook account, they found out that all of his friends on Facebook were dead people. Some had been dead for over fifty years and some thirty years. The others had either been dead a few years back or had recently died. Only one person amongst all his friends was a living person and that was me. For the police, that finding felt like hitting a brick wall in their investigation. It strongly suggested that perhaps Ryan was a dead person too. No one knew where he lived, who his parents, relatives or friends were. I had been to his house twice but he did not let me stay for long. Since I was missing, there was no way I could lead the police to his house. About a month after I had gone missing, the police discovered that they had made a mistake. I was not the only living friend Ryan had on Facebook; there was one more person. A young girl, an immigrant from Ghana, by the name Kessie Kufuo. He may have gone into a relationship with her just like he did with me, to use her as a sacrifice to break the curse on his family.

The Kessie Kufuo was not in Alabama, and so the police had to reach their colleagues in Nevada to question her and let her know that her life might be in danger. The Kessie Kufuo blew the police away by letting them know she had known Ryan for years and was engaged to him. They were actually planning their wedding, and for that reason Ryan had been living with her family for a week. When she was asked where Ryan was, she told the police he had stepped out before the police arrived to take their dog on a walk. The police decided to wait for Ryan to return. When the wait dragged into hours, they decide to let the Kessie know what had happened to me in Alabama, and about all the missing girls down there, both white and black. Kessie Kufuo was so shocked by what she heard that she fainted. Later the police found out from her that Ryan had not had sex with her in all the years he had been dating her. The she was still a virgin.

This left a lot of questions on the minds of my parents. Why was it that Ryan knew a pure virgin from Africa years before he met me, yet he did not use her for their rituals, instead he chose me? The last bit of information which sent both the police and my parents running for cover what that Ryan’s image matched, to a great degree, the image of a certain Ryan Tyler who died in 1804. After slaughtering the family members of his white slave master, he took his life. The police in 1804 believed that the killings had evidence of ritual killing. The manner in which they were killed, how their bodies were laid on the floor and the writings found on the floor, which were written with blood, left the police to believe the killings were some form of sacrificial ritual. They were convinced that the black slave named Ryan Tyler killed the family members of his slave master to end a curse which was ravaging slaves in certain farms in Alabama. As much as there was no means to investigate the paranormal, the police in 1804 stated clearly in their investigation report that the curse destroying slaves back then stopped after the killings by Ryan Tyler.

STORY CONTINUES...         CLICK HERE TO READ EPISODE 7

                                                  CLICK HERE TO READ EPISODE 5

Written by:
Uzoma Ujor

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Moofyme.com: An African Literary Blog: FIRST LOVE - Episode 6
FIRST LOVE - Episode 6
Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - grandfather, virgin, altar, sun, restore my virginity, blood, My parents, police, school, He was a popular guy in my class, Facebook, classmates, killings.
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