A Boy is Scared!

The thought of horror looms around the room, his understanding of every sound was important for fear to be tamed. Such a tranquil state is always believed to be demonic and beasty, most especially when they come in the coldness of the night.

 

Thoughts as gloomy as the nights besieged his faculties, nothing else seemed relevant to accommodate in his members than the rush to pull away from the imminent grip of dread. Even at that moment, his eyes where no longer fading him, they became as shinny as those of the watch-guards in the barracks. His teeth quacked like they were being sort after to be unearthed. His heart raced like blood was the trophy for winning, which in his case was a mind game.

 

His panting compounded as early risers in the barracks began their almost noiseless monkey businesses; that was not a good time for principle, he thought. At least every other day was allowed for routines, but not today; not the day he needed freedom from these hideous imaginations. Their neighbour, Mama Musa, who was always noisy every time she wakes up for her early morning chores, was unsualy quiet this dark hour. Or has she also being held hostage by this same evil thought of horror.

"What is going on", he thought? 

Why is everyone not helping him get out of these bad thoughts that has entangled his moment of peace.

 

When it seemed like he was about to muscle up his guts, the dreaded mystery lady kids always called "Miss Koi-Koi" was now playing her own part of the game. Her's was tormenting. Lady koi-koi was popularly known for her lacadisic movements in the corridors of blocks and lines in the barrack. She was imagined to walk stylishly like a fashion-celebrity, with steady feet on high-healed Prada pairs and bloody eyes and lips. It was not like anyone has ever seen her, but her fame was well circulated, more like a 10-time Grammy norminee. Even mothers in the hood feared going out to heed to nature's call, most especially when there was a recent event of this mystery lass visiting some unknown neighbour the other nights.

 

The night stayed fresher and younger, never grew old; it seemed like a spell was casted over it to relive its time and grow younger like James Button; the kind that turns jiffies to minutes, and hours to days. His realisation of who patted him on his back was still a reality he consciously tried to throw aside. The last time he had such a scare was when he was just a little barrack boy; 5 years and 2 days precisely. His heart quivered at the sound of an escaping mice, helplessly looking for cover after haven bitten off a piece from an uncooked animal tendor. He screamed and jumped at the same time hoping both moves would create a shock zone around him and scare the little creature away, as if the mice even listened. The report would always be that the mice was feared dead after carrying out the same act in the neighbours kitchen, and the locals in Nigeria would say

 

"so this yeye rat don die finally, Na him dey chop our food finish. Make una kill am. Nonesense." 

Such a ridiculous lie to cover up for the grisly old barrack culture of food and wastes. If only rats could eat that much, who would have the guts to live with them.

His brother's pat on his back released him from the scary illusion he was having all night; which of course was still what started his panic all along.

 

"Look at this boy ooo. So you are still awake. Do you even know what time it is?" His nerves and fluids began resting from the mansory they engaged in.

 

"Are you crazy, why do you have to touch me like that... You almost gave me a heart attack."

The wild laugh that ensued from his brother was not one that can be expected at such hour of the day, at least not when everyone was trying to catch some sleep.

 

"Something is definitely wrong with you.. Look at you, at this tiny age of yours, you are talking about a heart attack. Hmm.. You better wake up from your slumber and get ready to pack your sales for the day." His brother's words were with humour and seriousness at the same time, but he wasn't finding it funny.

 

"Sales? Its barely..." on looking at the old table clock that was kept on top of the monochrome TV rather than on the table- because there was known actually, he screamed in a conscious way to complete his statement "... 4:45am. Oh my god!"

 

His mother who keeps to her own end of the timing, wakes up as always and directed her merchants to where their merchandises are. Its time to head for the road for the days sales, yes it happens that early and as always.

 

"Please mama, let me sleep a little, I will be up before you know it..." Immediately he closed his eyes, he woke up in the real world when the time was 15 minutes to evil.; it was all a dream.

 

Now, he's awake, still staring at the torn mosquito net, gazing into the nights and hoping for the strangeness of all works of nature. He still battled with time because and his mother still knew he kept late. Now, he heard a breezy voice from behind,

 

"Oh god, not again."

 

PART 1, Scene 1- Ends here.