AND HE CAME AGAIN ( A SHORT STORY BY JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT)

AND HE CAME AGAIN… ( A SHORT STORY BY JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT ) 1

He told my mother that he wanted me to come to his house and take the money that he was owning her. I’m not always comfortable going to this man’s house and my mother knew this and she would always send me to go and get one or two things from him, meanwhile, I don’t really know the relationship between her and this man.. A lot of people had been complaining about him both in the street, and in his compound; on how he handle young boys roughly in the compound. So when mother sent me there, I was reluctant to go but she was of the opinion that I should go because, if I did not go and collect the money from him, we would all go hungry for that day. I prowled out of the compound as she began to abused me and call me all sort of names which I don’t like at all.

When I got to his house, he ushered me in and asked me to sit down on the sofa which I did, he went into his room and came back later with a small scissors. He went to the door and bolted it. He was looking at me on the sofa where I sat. Then after locking the door, he came back to me and sat behind me.

“Ebuka”, he called ” See, you have to cooperate with me and no harm will befall you. But if you don’t cooperate with me, you will not like what I will do to you with this scissors. Don’t scream, don’t shout or hesistate in any position I ask you to stay, ok?!”

I answered afraid, looking at the small scissors on his left hand and his angry face and back to the scissors on his hand. He began to remove my trouser gradually. Next, he removed my pant and began to caress and rub my private part to my head. I was aroused by his romance and gentle touch. I wanted to scream and shout at him but was afraid of what he could do to me with that scissor. After touching me here and there, he asked me to stand up from the sofa I was laying down. I stood up, and he gave me back my trouser that he put behind him. I collected it from him and wear it; waiting axiously for him to give me the money that I was told to collect. He stood up and gazed into my eyes and said.

“Ebuka, make sure no one hears of this because if they do, I will kill you and nobody will know your where about. You are just a small boy and you know, the way I will kill you and your mother and sister will not know and; you know your father is dead and no one is going to fight for you. You are a nobody!. And for your mother, tell her I don’t have the money yet.”

After saying that to me, I covered my shame with my hands because I couldn’t look at him in the eyes due to the fear that filled my eyeballs. I was afraid that he might just thrust me back to the bed and strangle me there and no one would know what has become of me. I was afraid of being beaten by this hefty man whose face was brutally designed with marks and stripes that I can not describe with my little aging eyes. I left his house abused, ashamed of myself and my hatred for life materialised again. I hated being human; human frustrated by another human in the name of satisfying their feelings and want sexually.

I walked down to the street still crying, the trees I ignored their greetings and dancing. Before, if I was not in a bad mood, I would rush to one of the trees and shake it with my little strength which mother once said it can not even kill a fly let alone hurting someone. But I told her I knew many ways of dealing with situations rather than coming to them face to face, I would target their weak points. I know the weak points of those trees that shake their bodies towards my side. I knew where to hit them and they would feel the pains. I wasn’t in the mood of looking at the trees, I thrust myself forward; daydreaming, remembering how he touched me here and there. He kept on telling me that if I shout I would be in trouble. He unzipped my trouser, hold my manhood, and caressed it excitedly. He romanced me and asked me to stand, sit and stand again. He moaned and groaned with his eyes tightly closed with my manhood in his palms angry. I remembered his painful fingers in my anus strolling as if he was looking for a lost coin in a deep hole. As I remembered all this things, tears filled my eyes, but I immediately wiped them off my eyes because of what he said. His words still ring a bell in my heart and head.

“Ebuka, make sure no one hears of this because if they do, I will kill you and nobody will know your where about. You are just a small boy….”

When I got home and mother saw me coming towards the gate, she ran to me anxiously as if she wanted to devour me like a hungry lioness. I make sure my eyes were carefully wiped and no sign of red colour was seen on it because mother was a careful observer. She could see what is hidden in your heart.

watchout for part 2

Bio
John chizoba vincent is an actor, poet, novelist and director. He hail from Nkporo in ohafia local government area of Abia state. He studied mass communication at the Lagos state Polytechnic and theatre art from helen paul theatre and film academy. He is a published author with four books to his credit. He has over five hundred poems online and journals.

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