Someone in The Dark

SOMEONE IN THE DARK


Assignment for Lesson Five
Some writing instructors consider theme as abstract nouns. But to simply say theme is love or hate is too simplistic. When you expand on the abstract and give it a universal emotional connection with others, (readers), the theme is strong & understood.

A theme can be something as simple as:
Crime doesn't pay
True love prevails, or doesn't
Don't judge a book by it's cover
Unrequited love
The good guy always wins, or doesn't
Revenge is sweet
Giving is more rewarding than receiving
What goes around comes around, etc.


Read the link listed below.
http://menwithpens.ca/fiction-writing-story-theme
1. Choose a theme (your choice) and write a new story using the thematic elements covered in this lesson and the website links.
2. I expect at least 250 words and no more than 2,000.
3. Do not state the theme you have chosen anywhere on the new piece.
I do not expect you to add symbolism in the new piece, but if it shows up, all the better!
I expect you to practice the techniques you have learned so far in this class in your piece.
Post this piece as lesson 5, part one, in the forum.

Immobile, I stood transfixed in my spot pondering what my next course of action ought to be. In the heat of the moment I lost all conscious awareness of this realm. My blood chilled as tension rose to boiling point, my heart was malfunctioning, skipping and pounding against my ribs like the activity of women pounding yam in a mortar. I have arrived at the point of lethal repercussions. In the silence I heard muffled breathing. No! Silence herself was breathing, heaving and sighing with the fatal threat of magma moving rocks and creating a natural vent for the release of long suppressed emotion. The ground beneath me began to give way like a solid melting, all of a sudden the shroud of darkness became so thick, you could cut a big chunk out of it with a penknife, confusion rushing in, accompanying the madness. I managed to say something, to scream but my vocals were no longer mine to control. I heard my voice coming back to me from within the thickness mumbling indiscernible utterances. I sensed evil creeping up around me, closing in on me, yet I couldn't tell what it was nor ascertain if it was alone my only companion being fear that fastened its grip on my guts like the membranous duct connecting the fetus with the placenta, sipping away on my courage and will.

Then I saw it! It burned like brimstone, like an orange glow - - - No! They bore the semblance of blood, like balls born of hades' vile blood, like two fireballs from Apadach, or Hell of hell. The eyes of Husua, the Goddess of Vengeance. Consciousness rushed at me like a stampede of mad cows - I was standing in the presence of the author of mortal corruption - a tremor traversed my soul as each morsel of realization enhanced my knowledge of my present predicament. I acknowledged then that the evil presence that now encircled my form was Husua's aura, her servant, Ibak, Vengeance herself. It's ironic that I had been elected as the sacrificial lamb by the Oracle but I escaped and fled Ruaga. I ran to the Hills of Seven Caves, to Ethiaba, far away from mortal existence. From my childhood days parents warned their children unceasingly about this accursed elevation, these hills were hunted, by what nobody knew exactly. 'She walks these hills' was all the explanation anybody who cared to explain gave. It was to my advantage that nobody would risk his life to venture into these terrains in search of an insignificant sacrifice like me, not even Konkaro, the kingdom's champion. I was safe, safe as a condemned man given a choice of death. I chose to hide in the Seventh Cave, it looked the most forbidding. This cave could only be accessed by a man or child lying on all fours and crawling inside like a reptile because the opening was too small to admit a human figure standing upright. The mouth of the cave possessed a semblance of a toothless old man or woman saving but a single tooth hanging on rotten gums at the middle. I remember standing for probably a longer period than could be considered necessary contemplating implications, what lay beyond this portals? Still I couldn't go back, not to the stakes, not to irrational consent to death. I would be plain stupid to do a thing like that, not even Isiba, the Priest's charms could effect my return.

Here I stood in the presence of my enemy fearing nothing but evil. Now there's a belief among my people that if a man or woman is chosen for sacrifice it is vanity to attempt an escape because Husua would come after her sacrifice. I had chosen the point of meeting with her it seems by fleeing my home and family. The fire of her eyes burned fiercely and seemed to throw out sparks of flame like a burning, crackling twig. I felt the fingers of an invisible hand forming around the back of my neck, around the place where my hair was cropped, it squeezed and brought its weight to bear I fell on my knees and went facedown hard prostrating before Husua's malefic presence.

'No mortal stands before her majesty's throne, Cadaver!'. It was Ibak speaking into my ears.

I wasn't at all surprised she knew my name. The Priest must have announced my name at Husua's shrine on the day I was chosen as the atonement for the sins of my ancestors - I don't believe that spirit-beings are all-knowing. I didn't know what to answer so I kept mute awaiting inevitability.

'What do you seek?'. Husua's voice slippery, slithered through the deep darkness to me, feminine and transuding malevolence. The voice of a middle-aged lady if this thing could be called a lady or the female of a dog!

Suddenly, I was thrown into a new state of chaos. Didn't she already know what I wanted? To live of course! Or could it be the Priest never actually mentioned me to Husua? Could I lie my way out this?

Husua dispelled my doubts when she spoke again.

'Do you know why you were offered to me as sacrifice?', she asked.

'No', I replied. I felt really stupid speaking to blinding darkness and two burning balls and I said so. It got Ibak all mad and she flung my body against the wall of the cave. I felt like a feather blown away by the wind or like Ideot must have felt when he rushed out of a bush at an on-coming vehicle. Uncle came on a visit from Port-Harcourt in his new Hyundai Accent and didn't notice Ideot, not on time anyway, who tried to embrace a running vehicle! Idiot would have been a more proper name for that kid. Now back to my reality, I slumped to the floor after bouncing off the wall and had enough sense to lay low motionless.

'Nobody calls Husua a mere shadow, mortal!' Ibak's voice boomed like the thunder on the 'Night of the Masquerade'

I wanted to explain that I intended to say I would have appreciated it if she revealed her form and came out of the darkness, but I considered it wisdom to hold my tongue.

''The Priest would give his life to see the flames of my eyes. No living mortal has ever seen me before. Consider yourself lucky, Cadaver'.

I took Husua's words literally, my fate's already been decided. I was going to die.

'Do you love Uman?'

Husua's words caught me off-guard. I couldn't help it, couldn't control the blasphemies pouring out of my lungs.

'Is it not enough that you have me, you soul-sucking THING. What has Uman got to do with any of this? Leave him out of this. Why do you allow evil to control you - - - ' This time I saw the palm of her hands, like thick, murky water held into form by thin synthetic fiber.

'Silence!' Ibak's hand slapped me to the floor repeatedly, throwing me in and out of consciousness - - -

The darkness lifted gradually consciousness crawling in like sunlight hesitant to shine at dawn. I must have been unconscious for hours, days yet I couldn't cry, not now that I thought I knew what was at stake. My eyes started adapting to the evil darkness that surrounded the cave I could see that my body had been moved deeper into the crypt of the cave. Here the walls were white, at the center stood an Alabaster Throne elevated on a golden podium. Stars and cosmic quantities danced round it, the kind of stuff you would expect in an Hollywood fantasy epic movie, but this was happening to me. Husua's form appearing and dissolving intermittently sat in the Alabaster Throne. I still couldn't SEE Ibak. I rose to my feet, surprised to see the pain in my body gone, The floor was transparent blue. I remembered Mr. Thomas', my junior high teacher's denunciation of the supernatural, calling it MYTHOLOGY if only he could step in my shoes, presently. I looked around frantically, searching the vicinity for Ibak, I didn't want to be slapped unconscious so soon at all once, still no sign of her. Husua perceived my thoughts.

'Vengeance is only conceived not seen. Men created her and she survives on their lust. Anyway, I sent Ibak out on an errand so we could discuss 'privately'. Now about Uman - - -'

I made to protest but Husua forbade me with a motion of her hand.

'- - - You met him on your last visit to your uncle at Port-Harcourt', she continued.

Uman and I were having a secret affair, nothing out of the ordinary but none of our parents knew anything about it, not even Uncle Innocent. Uman hailed from Ruaga, my hometown but his family rarely ever came home, not even for Christmas he couldn't tell why either though he did promise to come someday to introduce himself to my parents. Uman was albino, fresh from college and in his final service year. He majored in Political Science.

'He is the reason you are my slave. Sit!', Husua continued.

A hand-carved terracotta stool embroidered in gold appeared beside me and I took it on impulse. I had a better view of my surroundings at this time, this place no longer looked like the insides of a glorified cave. This place could have been an Ethiopian castle in all its glory for all its worth!

Pulse pounding, heart palpitating, gestures exaggerated by trepidations, and through quivering lips I succeeded in forming the word, ''Why?'

'It's a long story. . . ,' Husua started to say. 'Many years before your generation. Long before the Portuguese intruded the coast of West Africa, before the British came with guns and a Bible - - - '

Well, Husua knew so much about the history of my people it made me wonder if she also read the dailies.

' - - - Before the relegation of tradition to justify a foreign taboo custom demanded that slaves be buried alive in their owner's grave together with the corpse as escorts accompanying the dead to the Land of the Ancestors. In those days, one of the Fathers of Ruaga, one you directly descended from passed on, nine slaves were chosen to be buried with his body one of these a young lady heavy with an eight-month pregnancy. Menebok, (Mercy in english) that's the slave girl's name, cursed your kingdom just before the earth snuffed out the cries of the Nine'.

Husua pointed to a wall by her right with a fiery finger. I followed her hand on mere impulse until I was standing before a plaque carved into the cave's wall and revealing inscriptions printed in amazingly, fresh blood. This is what is written,

Ten score years shall lapse
And it shall come to pass
That, for every slave blood shed
Two among the free shall bleed.
Dongon shall traverse this land,
Until the coming of Uman.
For Ibak shall rest only in part
Until a sacrifice pierces His heart.

'The 'His' on the last line refers to the first Uman, your ancestor, also your lover and if you would receive my words your lover, Uman, is your ancestor incarnate. Dongon, the spirit of disease has an order from me to ravage your land with an epidemic until the coming of the sacrifice, YOU, Cadaver! Uman's heart will be pierced according to prophecy when he learns you've been sacrificed, Dongon will stay his sword over your land, and Ibak, Vengeance, will finally experience complete rest after 200 years! - - - '.

As Husua explained the prophecy scales came off my eyes, I saw the light, yet I didn't want to be part of Husua's world. Instead, I became a loner, not sharing in the spirit realm and no longer a living body - - -