People get killed by drunks everyday across the globe. But you died young and people don’t like that. Your grandma who had died of stroke was bitter when she saw you. She was crying, she couldn’t look at you – with your head that had become a big mass of squashed bone and flesh. The dead don’t bleed.
You wanted to cry. The thing about being dead is that you always want to live again, even when living had been slowly dying.
People get smashed by trucks a lot. You didn’t just die. You got murdered by a fool who thought he could do a fast one instead of slowing down.
April 1993. It is two years now and Mr. Fangun’s wife needs a baby. Your grandma looks at you and you understand how it all began…at least for some people. The unending cycle. The babalawo throws his cowries and you impatiently stir the courses. This spirit business is a time-eating type. Plus there’s nine months more. But you can’t wait; to breathe again, drink water, eat food…have wants and needs. Even though you will die again, many more times.
About the writer
Michael Larry wishes to see past the surface story. As a want-to-be, he thinks writing is a stepping stone to freedom.