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A Goblet of Fire II

 

A GOBLET OF FIRE II

goblet of fire

If you miss the previous episode, you can read it below. This is the concluding part, enjoy and let me know your thought. My word for today let us remember that it is not just the presidency and governorship elections that are important, those we vote into the house of assembly who would formulate our laws. Let us make sure these men are sound and of good character, they are selfless and those that want the prosperity of the nation above their personal pockets and selfish desires. I would keep making noise, let us spread these Goblet of fire instead of the one written in this write-up. T21

A Goblet of Fire I

A Goblet of fire II

I was stopped short in my jaded stride when a figure breezed past and into the bush on my left. It dissolved into another path leading to another part of town.

‘Idiot’ I blustered. I sucked my teeth so hard that I tasted blood on the inside of my lower lip.

Stupid riff-raff!!!

The man had dashed across my path so fast I could only conjure fragments of images of him.

Of course, it was a male. He appeared adorn in a threadbare clothing that showed signs of squalor like someone just out of the gutter.

He was also dark in complexion. And yes he ran like his entire life depended on it. At that time, this was my thinking at the time.

I was contemplating whether to pursue him for bumping into me like a hit-and-run but I was too weak to change my career home for something that tenuous.

***

It was up to five seconds from then… It was as though I slipped into a hazy day-dream. There was a fiery-looking sand storm of angry abominable howling from the storm.

I was so enthralled by these magnificent army, it seemed I was clamped to the ground I stood. Every other thing was in speedy motion.

The earth quaked, the air vibrated resoundingly as the feet of the army from hell drummed on the bare laterite. A brigade was marching with determination towards me.

I was soon wriggled out of my reverie when a fat block of wood slung through the air hit me across the face like a scalding slap from the Nigerian special anti-robbery squad (SARS) police.

Eh, I…!!! I tried frantically to speak.

Thief…Thief…!!!

Catch am…break him head…make he no escape o…

My heart skipped. I was both mad and afraid at the same time. I saw myself trying to come to terms with what was happening. I did a double take as my head swirled sharply at angle 180. Left…right…left again. I hoped earnestly they were referring to someone else behind me.

But the pandemonium intensified. Their martial song rang out ominously. An army of Armageddon were bawling at me like menacing pit bulls moving in for a kill. They bore in their flailing hands fat blocks of wood, cast-iron rods and other improvised weapons.

It was clear what their intentions were in spite of my inability to grasp their strange chanting. Yet it was the cadence, the wild scary timbre of their cacophonous voices that spread the horror through my entire body.

Within split seconds the hysterical crowd had bloated. I searched with intense fear in my eye to find a face, someone who would likely stopped all this madness. To tell them I wasn’t the one they wanted… That I was only a poor child of a poor background and I had never stole a pencil in my entire life.

Just then a craggy-faced man with an angry pink scar on his right cheek lunged at me with the iron rod in his hand. Another jammed my face with a stinging slap when I tried to reach for support as I groped the intangible air.

I dropped like dead meat on the ground while the horde from hell pulverized me with all their might and adrenaline in their veins.

I passed out…

‘He don die abi?’One man from the mob asked.

‘oya bring the matches… And the tyre..

‘Join petrol sef’

***

I jerked suddenly and awaken into an almost clear consciousness as I found myself in a large ocean of water and on the verge of sinking. A voice was yelping deep in my subconscious.

Help…help…I couldn’t distinguish between thought and reality. Please don’t…don’t do it. My voice is getting fainter with every strength I drew.

From a dirty black ten litre gallon, I was being doused with a swimming pool of premium motor spirit.

It was both cold and soothing, this bath – the water…PMS, until I heard “…oya, strike am”

I knew it was too late even as I whispered forlornly for clemency.

Suddenly, the heaven rended and there poured a rain of fire in ceaseless torrents.

Then the bon fire started. Then the fire dance kicked in. Soon everyone was dancing even though to all kinds of music genres.

Their music seemed fast like a disco while mine was like a slow jazz. Like a ball bobbing up and down on water. Like me being immersed in an ocean of gasoline.

Like taking a stroll in a theme park called Paradise where it is said that the streets are paved with pure gold with sweet fruity fragrances took flight from the rarest most prized flowers.

Mine on the other hand was not too different just a huge goblet of golden fire while tiny bits of golden petals like zobo leaves dropped deciduously on my earth, my whole body carelessly and indiscriminately.

Instead of sweet scents. The fragrances here was sulphur and carbon. I recognize that smell any day. It had been promised in the holy books…a lake burning with sulphur.

And am I in hell for a sin nobody explained to me as the golden fire licked my entire body to their amorous delight.

 

***

In one quick moment as I was in the final process of dying, I took in the reflection of the thick concentric circles of these hysterical Armageddon.

They had on faces filled with a main course of satiation. Smiles like crocodile teeth stretched from ear to ear. Their eyes glazed from the heat as hell consumes me into another black heap of rubbish in the streets for the banquet of ravens and street dogs.

***

I have heard people bitch about many things in this country yet in my 30 plus of existence, there were only two occasions I witnessed people in their number, in an entire community laugh hysterically over an evil occurrence: the death of military dictator, General Sani Abacha and when I was lynched… This is my story, an innocent soul wrongly and brutally cut short of life.

 

Written: Mayowa Shobo

Picture: Google

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