Bloody tongue [Part 1]
Esther Nnaemeka@esthernnaemeka604300
1 month ago
#NircleStories
Time inhaled and exhaled and let you out in one breath. But that breath was toxic, it was acidic, it was heavy. There were times when I wanted to look at you, when I really wanted to see you, but there was a fog clouding my eyes. It pressed heavily on me and I couldn't get it out. I tried, tried, I honestly did try my best but it was all in vain. I just couldn't see you, I just couldn't hear your name. You had lost your eyes, your ears, your mouth; you had lost yourself.
Your soul died on a sunny day. The air was so hot that it became even painful to breathe. Each breath I took seemed to scorch my nostrils. I kept rubbing them with a handkerchief, expecting to see blood each time I took it out.
It was April. The rains were supposed to have arrived. But they were vacant; probably stolen by the skies, thus leaving the sun with no choice but to do the work of the rains. And this it did so viciously and so ferociously that everyday in that month was filled with mirages. Of water, of coolness, of life, of death. But not all were mirages, for you abandoned yourself and truly became empty and dead. It was a dream to me, it was not real. It happened so suddenly that it could not have been real. Time most certainly froze that day.
That Sunday you tore the buckle of your heels apart just so you could not go to church. But Mama made you wear the orange shoes that did not match your yellow dress. You lied that you have a stomach ache, twisting your face in a contortion and making muffled sounds loud enough to reach Papa. But he prayed and said " every devil in this stomach be gone in the stupendous name of Jesus". You were out of excuses and had no choice but to go to church with the rest of us. You however remained seated throughout the praise and worship service, the sermon and the offering session. You asked me to help you put your offering in the basket and I wanted to refuse. You stopped me from saying a word by looking away after pushing the money in my hands.
Just as the Pastor said "let the living jump up and shout hallelujah", they trooped in. They warned us first, with a bullet. The bullet moved across the room and dived into the body of the young boy beside you. His blood splattered and you got some in your mouth as you screamed. You later on write to me that his blood tasted like the wine you drank during the last holy communion service. It is hot and burns your tongue, that is why you can no longer speak, you write. And you leave it at that, without giving me full details of what happened.
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