Esther Nnaemeka

A Second Diet

Esther Nnaemeka
@esthernnaemeka604300

2 days ago

#NircleStories
The aim of this is to be smart and not run mad. To discover, know, ascertain, decipher and despite it all, not have a broken mind. That stale air about you that leaves people staring; your actions so distinct and separate that they clearly show your intelligence but also doesn't hide that you are rotting away mentally too.
An antithesis of life. The true bane of existing.

Read with only a fragment of your attention and a quarter of your thought because I cannot guarantee that when you are done you will be with yourself. In fact, you will most certainly be in shreds. Bits of you will go to where they truly belong. The scraps that hang on to you with their gummy tentacles will hurt you. But they will be you regardless, so I guess that counts for something.

*************************************

When nightcrawlers move, headlessly dodging into the thickness of the darkness that makes them shine, Obinna moves too. It starts as an urge to pee, his lower abdomen pulsing with a dull ache, the pain sharpening beneath. He gets up from the mat, his body unfeeling to the roughness of it, and makes for the door.

In the bleakness, his foot collides with the wooden bench his mother usually sits on to peel roasted yams and he remembers she is in the room as well. He stoops to feel around for her and when he does, he gently taps her shoulder.

“Nne, I am going to urinate. Achorom imi mamiri.” She stirs, mumbling incoherent words and turns to the opposite side. By now, the urge to pee presses on even stronger and he leaves without attempting to wake her again. “It would be quick”, he assures himself.

As soon as he steps outside, the wind greets him, whispering adulation in his ear.
“Nwadiala, son of the soil, nnoo. Welcome to your land, the earth greets you.” As if in response, the dust picked up by the wind tickles his feet, causing him to move away from his compound, and further into the bushes.

A part of him wants to turn back before it is too late. Before dawn breaks, and his mother begins to search for him. However, the pull is strong, much more than last time. They are calling him in loud voices; the leaves rustling, the branches loudly snapping beneath his feet as he walks, the crickets chirping, as though they are announcing to the world that one of them is awake, and is “willingly” visiting. Hopefully forever.

As he moves along, the tall grasses murmur their gentle lacerations, their tender blades slicing unseen, yet he walked on, oblivious to the subtle scars etched upon his skin.

He reaches the heart of the forest and stops. The voices return, this time in a loud decibel, not a soft undertone.

“Obinna, join us. Answer your call. This is your fate. Don't be a proverbial stubborn fly.”
The voice says this three more times, the last time accompanied by a thunderous tremor which shook the ground, sending shivers down his spine.

He takes some steps back, then swiftly turns to leave. He runs all the way back, this time more aware of the grasses, as he parts them with his hands, winicng in pain as he feels the mild stabs of the blades he cannot avoid.

As he approaches the compound, he glances back and meets a terrifying sight. An apparition emerges, its body a grotesque fusion of lion and gorilla features. The creature's appearance is even more unsettling than the previous one he had encountered, which had seemed to combine the attributes of a tiger and a cheetah.

He screams and increases his pace, not looking back till he arrives at his compound.

“Mama, please open the door. Ha na-achu m.
They are chasing me.” He frantically bangs on the wooden door till his mother comes out. Her wrapper looks like it is about to fall off her waist as she moves to him, her eyes filled with questions and fear. His uneven breathing fills the air as her eyes move around, from the compound, where she sees no one but him, to the cuts on his face and singlet, down to the darkened patch around the crotch area of his shorts. She sighs and holds him by his hand, leading him to the room.

The cock crows. It is a new break of dawn.

1
13
2 days ago

Esther Nnaemeka

Sign in to post a comment.


Sign In