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he undid his bowtie. “You do know these stories do not have a happily ever after?”
“Smudge and waterproof eyeliner along with mascara.” I pointed to my face proudly. “Also you’re technically still here so if anything it’s just a prolonged happily ever after.”
I was expecting one of his snarky comebacks but there wasn’t one. Instead he merely grinned.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Come, Mr. Lord!” I tapped my wrist. “I have a seven a.m. meeting so I can’t afford to spend all night dreaming about you.”
MALACHI
I wasn’t sure if she really believed she was dreaming or not. I’d hoped she would remember as we walked through history—the ruins of our history—and yet she still seemed clueless. It was both frustrating with her and myself. Frustrated with her for not remembering…frustrated with myself for wanting her to remember when I knew what could…what would happen…
“The year was 1684, and there was not a soul throughout Igboland who hadn’t heard of the disappearances—the beast that came and stole men, women, and even children from the world, whether day or night. Sisters were missing, brothers were dead and tears soaked the earth as fear slithered from village to village. Elders, Kings, and men came together from all across the land. And in desperation, only one answer could be found, that which elevated Obinna to greatness…”
8th Onwa Asato (August) 1684 – Okwu Village, Igboland, Nigeria
“Chizoba, walk!” I commanded the stubborn old white goat with black spots around its eyes as if it were some warrior, yet still she pulled none of her own weight and instead stood there happily chewing on the grass, not at all caring that her back legs were sinking into the mud. “Go ahead now.” I threw my hands up in frustration. “Eat. Take your time. I’ll wait.”
Walking from behind her, I dusted off my hands and feet as I sat by the grass she was eating and shook my head at her. She ate as if we deprived her of food. “Chizoba, hey…are you the only goat in Obokwu? Why now? Why? Every time I turn my face you’re running someplace. Look!” I lifted my feet to show her. “You make me run more than my own father’s switch. Are you not ashamed?”
She cried out as she began to slip further back into the mud but only because it made it harder for her to eat.
“Ahh! See? Good for you!” I nodded to her as I rose from the grass and moved into the mud behind her. This time when I pushed under her legs she struggled and was able to free herself but instead of waiting for me the selfish goat began to run once more.
“Chizoba!” I ran after her. At least this time she ran towards the village. She cleared a path through the tall grass as she ran, which was how I always knew the way she went. I stayed low. My plan was to capture her and throw her over my shoulder. I was tired of her games but as I moved forward I saw the smoke rising in the distance.
The sound of lightning…
The words of my father came to mind: if you hear the sound of lightning coming from the rod of a white hand run, run and warn the others.
Again, I heard it, and yet, instead of running from it, I ran towards it. Leaving Chizoba in the grass I leaped over the stones of our land and ran towards home. My hands touched the brown walls and I looked around to see my father and my brother fighting, but the rods of lightning shot smoke and fire into the air.
Reaching for the dagger that hung from my waist, I drew it and prepared to fight. But before I could step forward his calm old eyes, clear like the sky, stopped me. He and every man and woman were armed and ready to fight these beasts of men that we’d long heard whispers about. He offered me one word. The only word that could be offered if this were to happen.
Run.
So I ran. I ran so that I could do what I’d been told to do—warn them all. I ran and ran even as the lightning came chasing after me. I did not know the language they squawked as they sent their fire at me. In the corner of my eyes I saw Chizoba running alongside me, however she could not escape their fire and fell. Her wailing was the last thing I heard as her white coat was stained with red.
I cried out as I tried to cover my eyes when pieces of the tree showered down in front of me. I fell face down onto the rocks. Blood pooled in my mouth and moments later I could feel the pain spread across my face. Reaching up I placed my hand over my eye.
Obinna, run. Run my son, run! I heard my father’s voice. Spitting the blood out of my mouth, I picked myself up and ran. My feet carried me further and further away and soon I came upon another village. Yet I did not stop. Instead, I reached down and took the piece of cloth at my waist and waved it in the air so they would know…the beast had come. The women who had children grabbed them and the men and the others grabbed their spears. I wished to speak with them but I could not.
I ran.
I ran for my father. Even if my legs would burn, even if my heart would stop, I would run. Each village I ran through I waved the cloth for them to see, the sun began to fall and the moon rose over the plains. It was all I could do. And just as my body began to fall forward, arms caught hold of me.
“Brother.”
I lifted the cloth to them one final time before falling over.
11th Onwa Asato (August) 1684 – Bikjga Village, Igboland, Nigeria
“You are awake?” Her voice was….so familiar. Like a voice I had heard a dozen times in my dreams. I opened my eyes and saw her kneeling over me. Her brown eyes stared down at me and when she smiled my heart leaped. My mind reeled with memories beyond my control. Reaching up I touched my face and felt the healing paste that had been put over it, but it was too late…I remembered.
“Tell the elders,” the woman called out to the other women I hadn’t noticed behind her.
“You did well. Rest,” she said as she tried to push me back down. However, the moment her hands touched my skin she jumped and pulled her hands away as she frowned. I knew by the confusion on her face….it was her.
