Seven 1

Seven - Episode 1

Seven – Episode 1

SORRY!

I’m really sorry for not posting this episode when i promised (23/11/12). Work, school and poor internet connection are the main culprits and I’m remorseful.

Ive taken time to read and re-read this episode though and I hope you enjoy it.

If you’ve not seen the prologue, you should read it here –> https://damstylee.wordpress.com/2012/11/15/seven/

Do Enjoy the first episode of SEVEN!

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Yes! Grandpa. She replies enthusiastically .

Okay then. We better get started before its time to do your chores.
He then carried her and placed her on his right knee, kissed her on her forehead and they sought to finish the story his life was centred on, the story he would soon finish.

Peeping from the door was a couple, the lady wrapped in the embrace of her hubby.

He’s going to finally finish it.

I know. And they share noise less kisses before retiring to their bedroom.

You ready?

Yes!

_________________________________________________________________________

He must die!!! The crowd scream in discordia harmony.
Who the hell is he? Our children are not safe with him alive! are some of the rants that flooded the air.

The village guards try to shut them up by wielding their sharpened swords in reckless abandon.
But the crowd couldn’t be shut up. They had had enough. The murderer had to go.

They soon stop screaming in respect for the King when he walked in.

Kabiyesi o! They say in unison as they all prostrate, man and woman on the burning red clay floor heated up by the burning midday sun.

He takes his seat, gestures for them to rise and gives charge to the village town crier to go about his business as the guards go in to get the accused.
Shortly afterwards, a man drenched in his own blood is dragged into the arena; the crowd scream out and hurl stones and sticks at him. Most missed but a precise stone caught him on the forehead causing his head to fly backwards in an awkward manner; this was accompanied by another set of jeers.

“Today, we are here to decide the fate of this man; Ayomide Ifakunbi The town crier announces after their jeers had died down.

He has been accused of murdering the daughter of our elder, Baba Jakande.
Her body was found in the ofa stream and witnesses have come forward to say he; Ayomide was the last person they saw with the deceased before her corpse was discovered that fateful day.
Today, we decide whether he is guilty or not.”

Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! The crowd vociferate.

Silence! The king’s right man screames out.
Can’t you see the king is present or are you all blind? Where is your respect?!

The noise reduces but some murmurings could still be heard in the crowd. Somewhere beside the throne, the accused raises his head to look at his accusers, his face but a shadow of its former self and eyes trying to find solace in the fearsome mob-like crowd. He soon finds her but her tear laden eyes make him look away almost immediately as he couldn’t stomach the shame he felt.
In the midst of all the hullabaloo, a dreary fellow moves through the crowd, his face covered by the black hood with his finger and toe nails also painted black rendering his appearance more grotesque.
He continues his advance through the crowd, his attention not at all moved by the uproar around it is focused on Ayomide. He later stops at the side of Ayomide who is startled at the strange man’s appearance.

“Who are you and how did you pass through the guards?” He waits for a reply but the strange man’s gaze is fixed on the crowd now, his palms rubbing each other in a sinister manner complementing the black hood and overalls.

“Hey there! I’m talking to you!” His voice attracts the attention of the guards and the royal cortege.
They stare in amazement as they watch the accused speak to thin air.
“I think he has run mad.
He’s faking it. He must die!
What if he’s not?”

“Silence!” The king bass voice booms, causing the whole arena to be rendered still and quiet, the only noise coming from a crying baby somewhere in the crowd.

“Ayomide!”

“My Lord!” The accused replies dropping to his knees.

“Who are you talking to?”

“This scary man, Sir…” And he points to the strange man.

“Who?!” The king askes again confused as to what the accused is talking about since he just pointed to thin air, he looks at the chiefs and royal cortege but they are as puzzled as he is. The crowd start to murmur now, as an argument ensues causing two distinct divisions.

“He must be mad! The gods have caught up with him!” One division says.

“He is pretending jor! Can’t you see he’s smiling? That’s how those criminals act.” The other division decipher.

At the other end of the crowd, Ayomide continues to question the stranger, while trying desperately to hide the fear that was welling up in him. If these people could not see this man whose silence is spooky as well as bewitching, he must be going crazy.

“Are you going to answer me or what?”

“Why do you want an answer?”

As much as he wanted to hear the man talk, he couldn’t hide his fear as the man turned to look at him, his eyes reminiscent of dark bottomless pits. His mind began to play out the pictures he had as a kid when his Grandma taught his sister and him from the bible.
Still frightened as hell, he turned to run but he was wrestled to the floor by the guards few feet away. His pleas for them to see reason futile as the crowd jeered the guards on.

“Please!
I don’t want to sit near this man.”
He wails pointing the ring finger of his right hand at the image of the man that was oblivious to all eyes but his.

“He is mad! He has gone crazy! The gods have heard our cries! They have punished him!” They rejoiced in loud voices, some already engaging in celebratory dances.

Some minutes later, after the noise had died down, he is chained to a pole and sat where he was before.

“Why did you try to run?” He heard the strange man ask.
“Do you think you can outrun me?”

“Who are you?” Ayomide replied, trying his best not to gape at the succubus beside him.

“You still don’t know?”

He then turns to stare at the baffled mob, “You would think he would remember after all He did for him”

Huh?

At that instance, he raises his hand, his fingers intertwined in a gun like fashion and directed at one of the guards securing the mob.

At the supposed “pull of the trigger”, the guard drops dead, making that section of the crowd run helter skelter and Ayomide leaping away in fear.

“Do you know now?” He asked finally, his expressionless face giving nothing away.

You! Ayomide responds

To be continued

Watch out for the remaining episodes in upcoming weeks.

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Damstylee

I Think | I Write | I Inspire

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11 thoughts on “Seven 1

  1. Pingback: Seven 2 | Damstylee

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