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Whose Murder by PONYAK

WHOSE MURDER
      I ran into the sitting room and met my parents, uncles and aunties with their children all sitting and having a n ice time. No one seemed to notice me. I went straight to my mum, bent over and whispered into her ears
     “Mum, some people just abducted Jeffrey. I tried to run back home with him but, they overpowered me and took him away. Please let’s follow them, I know where they followed and we can catch up with them.”
     She looked at me coldly with rising exasperation and shouted “Justin shut up! Go get dressed and stop roaming about in my sitting room with a towel around your waist like a prostitute looking for who to nail her.”
      For the first time, everyone seemed to notice my presence and when I looked, I discovered I was actually having a towel round my waist. As I left for my room I heard a baritone accompanied by an aggressive and unpleasant noise. I thought the world was coming to an end. After a minute or two, I remembered I had set an alarm for 5:30 am.
      I quickly jumped out of my pajamas and slipped into my joggers and went to perform a duty I swore to perform with the whole of my heart-jogging. Well, I didn’t decide to on my own. My friends said I was getting fat. Apart from that, I needed abs as it was the reigning thing. I started around 5:45. The street was quiet and the streetlights seemed to have joined in the duet. There was nobody on the street even my fellow Joggers. Maybe I was early today. I started jogging as I imagined what I would look like after sometime. The church bells rang calling worshippers to worship and I could also hear the Muezzin’s voice at the other side of the street.
      I jogged for 30 minutes and stopped to stretch my legs and my heart stopped, my mind went blank and my head felt empty. I saw my myself walking into the bush towards a rock.
     I wanted to ask myself what was going on but it seemed like I was logged out of my own mind and was denied access to it. I saw what looked like an old man in a white high waist wrapper. I was walking but it was as if I was floating. I couldn’t change course, I walked straight to the old man and he held my face in his hands and the coldness in his hands sent rings of cold down my body. He had a face like that of an antagonistic god in Hollywood movies. He had white beards and an extraordinarily long moustache. He had a dry chest that made it possible for his ribs to be counted. The flesh in his enveloping his torso was sagging and he was barefooted. He whispered something under his breath.
      He led me to a flat rock where I saw two white cocks and some other weird things. I laid down obediently like an African child that was beaten to sleep by his mother. I wanted to resist but I couldn’t. the old knelt beside me, spread his arms wide and faced the sky while he muttered under his breath. It was then that I realized he was holding a decorated African blade.
    He was now caressing my torso with the decorated blade and I could feel the numbing coldness of the steel. He stopped at my neck. It was then that I wanted to log back into myself again. I felt the tip of the blade on my fragile little neck. The next thing I felt was warm, thick and sticky liquid squirting all over me. It tasted like blood. Somehow, I managed to log back in and stagger to my feet.
     It was like the other people jogging couldn’t see me. I reached home and went in through the sitting room and for the first time, I noticed something different about my father’s portrait. It was as if he was trying to tell me something. I got into my bathroom with my blood stained joggers and turned on the shower.
    After a long bath, I picked up my toothbrush and toothpaste and I felt a presence behind me. I looked up at the mirror and there he was! The old man I had encountered earlier. He was still holding the decorated African blade. He raised it up and speared it towards me and I ducked and it shattered my mirror. That was when I heard my mother’s voice praying and her footsteps approaching. I didn’t know what to say to her if she inquired to know what was going on. Somehow, she went back.
    I wore fresh clothes and packaged my blood stained clothes in a polythene bag and decided to go back to the scene of the encounter to know if all happened in reality or it was another movie in my head. I disposed my stained clothes in the public trash and crossed over to the scene.
    People had gathered round. Some were taking pictures and nodding their heads pitifully. I managed to find my way to the front somehow and there he was! The old man with white beards laying on the stone like I did, holding his decorated African blade in his left hand. I looked at the body confused trying to recall what happened earlier. Again, my head felt empty and my mind wanted to go blank and I resisted somehow. Could it have been me? Did I murder the old man with the decorated blade?
    I looked at the body again and he was staring at me with his stone cold eyes. He sat upright. Once again, nobody noticed. He walked towards me I was already mummified with fear. He raised his decorated blade up and once again, it was just me and him. He started muttering to himself again. The sky became dark and there was lightning and thunder.
    I could see him bring down the decorated blade down in compressed momentum aiming for my neck. I heard Demi Lovato’s -Stone cold blast through the skies and all was silent.

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Comments (2)

  1. Wow good 👍

  2. I like the suspense. Made me eager to read. Kudos Ponyak!

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