Thunder crashed. Lightning flashed. She turned with hesitant casualness. Before lightning left the blackness of night gulping back the world around her, she had a glimpse of him ducking out of sight.
She clutched her bag in response to the realization that she was being tailed, increasing her steps. A second later found her running.
She scissored through the wind,
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.
They said the darkest hour comes right before dawn.
How fitting they called this place the Isle of Death’s Shadow. Not even the moisture dripping from gnarled branches of this cursed forest could quench the fire in his throat.
He shivered as he passed the poles displaying the disembodied heads
Inside the questioning room, wrists cuffed to the table, I listen to the two detectives on the other side of the glass divide until a female voice joins in. Gbemi. The one I have been waiting for.
“Aren’t we just a terrible bunch? She says. “So we arrested a lady just because we found a few other ladies chilling in her basement?”
They laugh, and when I laugh too, they stare in at me. I wink at them. I see their growing confusion; I shouldn’t be seeing or hearing them through the soundproof partition.
“I’ll speak to her.” I say aloud, relishing the shock on their faces.