RISING DEEP - Episode 7

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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - a large room, room, white paint all over the room, Uncle, father’s house, power, clothes, table, a graveyard, Jesus, bike rider, passers-by.


The last thing I remember was uncle Jones swinging his belt at us. At first I did not know how long it was. Later I found out I had been there for three days. When I woke up, I was bound hands and feet on a large iron table in a large room painted white from the floor to the ceiling. It took me a few seconds to adjust my eyes to the dazzling effect of the white paint all over the room. Uncle Jones was standing over me with that same belt in his hand. His face was still wrapped up in a frown like the night I saw him sitting on the edge of my bed. “What did you do, Patricia?!” he demanded. I was more interested in figuring out where I was than in his question. Repeatedly my eyes blinked and my mind searched for answers.

Raising the demonic belt in his hand, he demanded again, “Patricia, what did you bring into your father’s house?! What have you done? Tell me now or I will use this belt on you!” It was then I took note that the belt in his hand had a head like a snake. The sight of that left my heart beating very fast. “I don’t know! I don’t know! What did I do?!” I screamed, scared that he might use the belt on me again. He lowered the belt and explained, “You brought some power into your father’s house. That power has destroyed things for us. Where did you get the power from? Who gave it to you?” “Power? What power?” I asked, thinking very hard to remember the events that had led me to the situation I found myself in. In a flash the events of that night flashed through my mind. “Jesus! Where is Sandra? Where is Samuel? Tell me, what have you done with Sandra?” I demanded, crying hysterically.


By now I was on the edge, my eyes darted about the room in search of Sandra. As though on cue, the giant door to the room swung open and two men with black paint over their bodies bore Sandra in and placed her on a similar table as the one on which I lay. “Sandra! Sandra!!! What did you do to my sister uncle Jones?” “I am going to cut her open while you watch if you refuse to tell me the source of the power you brought into your father’s house,” uncle Jones threatened and began to fold the sleeves of his shirt. A butcher’s knife was handed to him by one of the men covered with black paint, and he proceeded to rip off Sandra’s clothes. As he tore her clothes, Sandra moved a bit, giving me hope that she was alive.

As if someone spoke to me from within, I heard the words, “Prayer cloth and anointing oil.” “I will tell you uncle! Please spare Sandra! Please don’t harm her!” “So, what did you bring into that house?” he asked, dropping the knife in his hand beside Sandra, whom he had stripped stark naked. “My pastor gave me prayer cloth and anointing oil. I sprinkled the oil all over the house and put the prayer cloth under Samuel’s pillow.” “Prayer cloth? What is that? How could mere prayer cloth and anointing oil unleash that sort of power? You are lying!” he yelled at me, picking up the knife again. “Wait uncle! Daddy was committing abomination in the house…I mean the worst kind of abomination you can think of! He was having sex with mom and Gegwe together every night!” I paused expecting him to be shocked by what I had said. There was no look of shock on his face, he simply looked at me blankly and then moved over to my table. I was scared when his gaze shifted to my breast. “Our house was filled by spirits after daddy began to commit the abomination in the house. I didn’t mean to cause you or anyone harm, I was only trying to help daddy and send out the spirits,” I said pleadingly.

He put his hands over my breast and tore my clothe wide open from the top, revealing my bra.

As a heinous smile appeared on his face, he pulled up my bra, exposing my breast. That same demonic, lustful, feeling swooshed over me. I tried to fight but could not; my hands and feet were bound. While I pulled at the ropes which bound my feet and hands, uncle Jones began to undress hurriedly. “Don’t please! Uncle don’t! Please! Please I beg of you, don’t!” I cried still pulling at the ropes. I didn’t mind that the ropes were cutting into my skin. The more I pulled at them, the more my skin peeled off. “You destroyed what took us years to build. Now, we are going to rebuild it with you. You and Sandra were meant to be for future use, but since you have become very dangerous, it is time to bring you in,” uncle Jones said. I did not understand what he said, but within me, I knew he was talking about what they did to Gegwe.

Having peeled off his clothes, he began to remove the residue of my clothes. Each touch of his hand as he removed my clothes seemed to unleashed layers of lust over me. Unannounced, my parents barged into the room. Their faces looked like they had been burnt by fire. I was glad to see them, nonetheless. I could not remember being that happy to see them since I discovered their abominable act. “Daddy! Mommy! Help me! Please help me!” I screamed. My parents didn’t budge at my cry. They walked over to the table and began to remove their clothes. They were going to join the act. They were going to defile me through incest. I cried, pleaded and begged, but they did not listen. My father was the first to touch me indecently, As much as I didn’t want to, I heard myself moaning in response to his touch. Shortly my mother and uncle Jones joined him. That left me moaning louder amid hot tears. Then the door swung open again and Gegwe walked in with half her face charred.

I saw Sandra move on the table as though she was waking up. Inside me, I heard that same voice again say to me, “Call Sandra for help.” It must have been the act of God, in that same moment, uncle Jones moved the knife away from my table and dropped it on the table on which Sandra lay. My parents and uncles Jones were now doing all sorts of things with my body and moaning pleasurably. I saw Gegwe hurriedly removing her clothes. Clearly, she too was going to join them. Above the ceiling, I saw some of the spirits I had seen in my room gathering very fast. I could tell then that what my parents and uncle Jones were doing was some kind of ritual. With all the strength in me I screamed, “Sandra!! Sandra!!! Help me!!!”

The Graveyard
Samuel stirred on the ground where he had lain unconscious for days and suddenly jumped to his feet. “Jesus! Where is this place?” he asked, cleaning off the red sand on his body. His eyes darting about, he realized he was in a graveyard. “Jesus!! How did I get here?!” In fear, he began to move away from the graves before him. Some distance away from where he stood, he heard a twig break. Without waiting to find out who or what it was, he bolted off. Panting heavily and feeling dizzy, he tasked his frail body to run as fast as he could. When he had made it across the community playground, he crashed to the ground, gasping for breath. Then a roiling dark cloud wafted over to where he lay on the ground and slowly began to cover him. “The blood of Jesus! The blood of Jesus!” Samuel shouted. The dark cloud dispersed violently and he heard a monstrous female voice, shriek from within the cloud, “Aaaah!!!” He dragged his tired body from the ground and began to stagger toward home.

Some distance away from the playground a voice called out to him, “Samuel! Samuel!” Trying to turn and see who it was, he slumped to the ground. This time, he did not stir a limb. It was a commercial motorcycle rider. Samuel and Sandra had used him to move about the neighbourhood on several occasions. “Samuel what is it? You look terrible. Sandra told me you were missing,” said the bike rider. When he got closer, he saw Samuel was foaming from the mouth. “Jesus!! Help! Help! Help!” The bike rider shouted at some passers-by a few distance away. He bent down to lift Samuel as the passers-by ran toward him. Using his shirt, he cleaned off the foam in Samuel’s mouth. He opened Samuel’s eyes and found it pale in colour. He is going to die, he thought to himself. “Bros na wetin?” asked one of the passers-by who ran over to help. “He is dying; I need to get him to a hospital!” shouted the bike man. One of the passers-by lifted Samuel and moved over to the bike rider’s motorcycle. The bike rider jumped on his bike and the young man carrying Samuel sat behind him. In flash, they rode off to a hospital. The other passers-by stopped a taxi and followed behind them.

STORY CONTINUES...
               CLICK HERE TO READ EPISODE 8
 
               CLICK HERE TO READ EPISODE 6

Written by:
Uzoma Ujor

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Moofyme.com: An African Literary Blog: RISING DEEP - Episode 7
RISING DEEP - Episode 7
Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - a large room, room, white paint all over the room, Uncle, father’s house, power, clothes, table, a graveyard, Jesus, bike rider, passers-by.
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Moofyme.com: An African Literary Blog
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